#and his hands are like the only part of his body he can reliably move rn

[aphel1on]

problems with writing fic set in fantasy historical china

"i want lan wangji to knit"

wikipedia informs me knitting did not reach china until the 1920s. devastating

[kentoxo]

friction | you x crush!nanami pt. 1

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: first!! ever!! story-driven smut!!! im so excited! literally love this man sm and have yet to make any sort of fic on him. ahhh!! let me know if yall like this idea! i'll be releasing mini parts sporadically as my free time allows me to :)

December | Tokyo, Japan

Nanami relied on you, simply because you made it a point to become ever so reliable to him.

Monday through Friday, you would always arrive just a few minutes before him, feigning an earlier arrival with your coat stowed away, and your computer on with work tabs open on the monitor. This morning, like every morning, went exactly within your expectations. You’d know he arrived by the sea of ‘goodmorning, Mr. Nanami’ flooding the office. The firm steps of his Italian oxfords would always remind you to straighten your back and await him with his cup of coffee in hand. 

“Goodmorning, Nanami,” you hum, your words sliding off your tongue like butter. You don’t look at him, as you were busy basking in the privilege of long-dropped formalities. Although Nanami was very strict with work and coworker relationships, he only accepted you speaking to him informally. At least, in regards to his honorifics. 

“‘Mornin’,” Nanami huffs. He takes a seat beside you, stripping away his black peacoat. It was a heavy winter in Japan, so in the ocean of snow and winds were city workers and dwellers, draped in coats or inappropriate attire. You knew it was rude to stare, but you were always entranced from seeing his body in his usual beige suit. A veiny hand presents itself before you. 

You carefully fill his hand with his hot-brewed coffee, “just the way you like it. Your favorite barista was in today, finally. He was out with a cold, and took a few days off sick.” 

Nanami’s free hand frantically moves his mouse, impatiently waiting for his computer to illuminate on. “It’s unfortunate his counterparts cannot mimic his talent. We may have to poach him into our corporate cafe.” 

You begin to draft an email, the lingering warmth from his coffee resting in your hands. “I can draft an email for you if you’d like. You have a meeting with Mr. Takada at 2, so it could be opportune to mention it.” 

His eyes casually flicker over to the calendar pinned on the dividing cubicle wall, between both of your computers. It was organized in neat font thanks to you and your handwriting. Hazel eyes begin to scan the calendar, with Nanami lightly cupping his mouth. “And were you able to postpone the team meeting for today?” 

You nod, never missing a beat, “I’ve long sent the email, and made my rounds earlier today to remind them that we will not be gathering today. I’ve set up an alternative forum that works for everyone's schedule, including ours.” You reach over for a folder you had neatly sitting in your ‘complete’ basket. “I’ve already printed copies for the documents we’ll be going over, and booked conference room 3.” 

“My favorite,” Nanami breathed out between swigs of his bitter coffee. “Did you double check everything?” 

“All documents were revised 3 times for mathematical errors, grammar, and consumability. I’ve also prepared catering to be brought tomorrow, as the meeting would take place at the beginning of everybody's shift.” 

The blonde man stripped off his blazer, revealing his alluring, navy blue shirt. He neatly drapes it over the back of his seat and leans back once again. He crosses his arms over his chest, the bulge of his bicep evident under the fabric of his dress shirt. “Any new updates from Mr. Takada or the team?” You could hear the office quiet down, the sudden silence of keyboard tapping and casual conversation. 

“Mr. Takada has yet to send anything, so that is still pending. The team, however, has made quite the advance in their work. They’ve already predicted our numbers for the end of the year, with our solidified, confirmed numbers already calculated and organized in a shared Excel.” 

Nanami smirks mischievously, “I don’t believe it. How’d you manage to get that out of these loafers?” A few of the staff playfully complain, receiving a small chuckle from Nanami. You felt your cheeks warm up from his hidden dimple coming to the spotlight of his lips. 

They all go back to their work after exchanging light words and laughter. You lean over slightly towards Nanami, not giving him any sort of eye contact. “I let them choose the breakfast we will be catering for the meeting,” you whispered playfully. 

He leans as well, “you truly are a woman of trade, Y/N.” He quickly opens up a few documents on the screen while finishing the final drop of his coffee. His bottom lip glistened with coffee, having him casually drag his tongue to wipe it off. “How about our lunch for today? You and I, that is,” he made sure to clarify. 

You opened your drawer and fished out a menu. It was a menu from a seafood restaurant that opened close to the office. You slid it to him, opening it up to reveal his annotations when he initially looked through it. “I scheduled an order for both of the dishes that you had circled. Both options look delicious, so I figured we could sample from one another's plate.” 

Nanami turns to you, his lips hinting at a smile. He lightly tugs the bottom of his lip with his teeth, sending shots directly at your heart. “What are we drinking?” 

“I couldn’t find your favorite iced tea, but they have this pomegranate drink that I think you’d enjoy greatly,” you hum confidently, “it has yuzu in it.” 

Nanami’s lips finally curve into that saccharine sweet smile. “Why do I even clock in anymore?” Nanami jokes, “I can be on autopilot so long as I have you Y/N. Thank you for being so diligent.” He begins to rise from his chair, causing a few of your fellow coworkers to look over. “I’m off to the kitchen to grab some snacks. Would you like anything from the cafe?” 

You nod, “tell any of the baristas my name, they’ll know. They also have those apple pies you like today, so definitely grab one while they’re still available.” 

With an excited hum, Nanami walks away from you, your eyes glued to how good that blue skirt hugged his torso. Broad shoulders, sharper blades, and muscular. His scent wafted you when he left his seat, the notes of sandalwood and frankincense taking you over. But your thirsting thoughts simply had to be bursted by Yū Haibara. He temporarily took a seat in Nanami’s seat, and turned your chair over to face him. 

“Keep staring and maybe you might actually start drooling,” Haibara humors. Before you, Haibara was Nanami’s only right hand man. He is not as diligent as you are, but he keeps up with Nanami the way others can’t. “I thought you wanted to keep your crush a secret?” 

Before you could respond, your hand immediately cups around Haibara’s mouth. “I’ll punch the drool out of your mouth so we can twin– can you please not say that out loud, in the office?” You grit your teeth after your words, letting your hand fall to reveal a cheeky smile from the obsidian-haired man. 

“That is the most aggressive thing you’ve ever whispered to me,” Haibara whispered back, finally using his head voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t too loud or else you would’ve mauled him. “That’s no way to speak to your manager.”

“If you were my manager, nothing would get done,” you teased, looking back at your computer to analyze some of the numbers Nanami sent you. “Did you need something, or are you just here to mess with me?” 

“Both!” Haibara hums. “I’m not messin with ya, rather I just want to keep my eye out for you. I’ve already told you about how Kento feels about dating. I would hate to see you–” 

“I know, I know,” you quickly shut down, waving your hand in his face. “I’m not trying to act delusional or anything. I already like him, so there’s nothing I can do.” Haibara stays quiet, not wanting to bother you. 

Haibara knows when to draw the line when he teases you. He reveals a paper from who knows where and offers it to you. It was a thank you letter from the Sales Department. “I visited them as soon as I came in today. They thanked you for helping them with a small project and asked to transfer you back.” 

You picked up the letter, your cheeks going warm again. You pucker out your bottom lip and hold the letter to your chest. “I miss my team so much! Ah, it felt so good to work with them again!” Your eyes then flicker at Nanami’s small name tag beside your desk. 

It wasn’t that Nanami was this amazing man, but he was wonderful. When you were transferred from the Sales Department to the Finance Department, you weren’t sure you were going to do well. Especially considering you were transferred specifically to be Nanami’s assistant. But on your first day, you noticed that Nanami joined you in the empty desk beside your own. His office was not big enough to host you and your needs, so he has refused to use his office since then. He told you it was necessary to work with one another, and that sacrifices on his end must be seen in order for work to get done. 

Since then, you have never let him down. 

“But I’d never leave this,” you say, the sentiment in your words striking Haibara. “Their words are kind, but Nanami’s words are heavy. I feel… appreciated by him.” 

Haibara scoffs enviously, crossing his arms over his chest, “wish that was me. Nanami never made me feel appreciated. He didn’t even congratulate me when I was promoted to Head Manager!” 

“And I still won’t,” a deep voice sounded from behind you. Turning around, a smile tickled your lips as Nanami came back. One hand occupied your drink, while the other held a steaming hot apple pie. He delicately places your drink on the corner of your desk before going to Haibara, lightly spinning the chair with a push from his knee. “Off.” 

“Am I nothing to you?” Haibara moans theatrically. “You’re commanding me like a dog on your couch.” 

Nanami assumes his seat after ripping Haibara off of it, “I’d still let a dog sit on my couch. Anyways, what did you need Ms. Y/L/N for?” 

Haibara quickly rushes to your side while playfully sticking his tongue out towards Nanami. “I was passing her a letter from the Sales team. They want to steal her back from us.” 

You quickly elbow his stomach from him not saying the whole truth. 

But it was too late. “Is that right?” Nanami murmurs. He moves his mouse to wake up the computer, immediately getting back to his workflow. “They can try, but it’ll never happen,” Nanami said simply, “I’d never approve it.” 

It was… a compliment? Well, that’s how it felt like to you. It felt like Nanami wanted you all to himself, but only in a work capacity. Despite this being platonic and strictly work related, it still sent waves of emotion to your heart. 

Haibara chuckles, “who knows? Maybe Y/N will go on her own accord.” You look back at Haibara, practically seething at his unthinkable words. Haibara quickly puts his arms over his stomach, protecting himself from another potential blow. 

Nanami quickly removes his hands from his keyboard and looks over at Haibara. His face was distasteful. “Move away from my assistant before you rub your stupid on her. While you’re at it…” Nanami reaches over to his rack of documents and pulls out a very thick folder with a label that reads ‘To Do.’ He eagerly holds it out to Haibara, who reluctantly takes it from him. “These are all the clients we need to look through. Pick out at least 20 that you think would be an asset to the company if we worked with them.” 

Haibara, without another word, drags his feet back to his office. You try to hide your smile as you excitedly pick up your iced drink. Taking a sip, you let out a satisfied sigh. “Thank you for getting me this, Nanami. I hope there wasn’t a line or anything.” 

“None at all,” Nanami hums. “I didn’t realize that you liked your drinks so sweet, Y/N. I could swear you usually get a different drink.” 

Your shoulders hang a bit from his words, but you were still quite upbeat, “it’s been the same since I was transferred to your department.” You made sure not to imbue your words with disappointment as you would hate to make him feel guilty. “It’ll be a year soon since I’ve joined the Finance Department.” You pointed to the day on the calendar, which was marked clearly with an X. 

Nanami looks over at you with a warm smile, “you have been a wonderful addition to the team. I’m glad that Mr. Takada knew what I needed, and recommended you.” 

Unable to contain your happiness from his flattery, you quickly glue yourself to your monitor. You tap away at your keyboard like a maniac, attempting to calm the quick beating of your heart. Your drink, in a way, was tasting a little sweeter than usual after his words. 

[maxlarens]

perhaps bsf!reader and ibiza!lando in a sitch where like, lando isn’t getting girls in the clurb bc everyone thinks reader is his girlfriend and he ends up pushing her away????????

-🧃

perfect and beautiful thank you!!! i feel like it’s been five hundred years since i wrote or posted anything, i sooo hope u guys enjoy this! not much lando when i read it back but i guess i had some emotions to hash out here?🤨

There's a certain level of willingness to be observed that you have to subject yourself to in being Lando’s friend. You know that full well. Have been more than aware of it in the past few years, as Lando performs better, becomes more and more known.

You’re used to it for the most part.

The wandering eyes that slide right off you and Fewtrell, to instead favour Lando’s head of dark curls. The skeptical ones that linger, wondering what someone like you is doing around someone like him.

At least you have Max to commiserate with. To share that pulse of shame that beats like a second heartbeat occasionally. To remind yourself that Lando is your friend, not some burning star whose wreckage you’re caught in.

You’d never want him to feel like his success is a burden, or that it’s not always the easiest thing in the world to be his friend. That’s not really the case anyway— you’ve never had a friendship like the one you have with him. Max might be a close second, but it’s not the same. Point is, you’d move heaven and earth just to continue being friends with Lando.

It’s just— the eyes—

There are a lot of them on you here.

Appraising (but never of you independently, always in relation to Lando. You can tell), skeptical, jealous, bitter, even pitying. You think it must have something to do with Lando and the way he’s got his arm slung over your shoulder. The way you’re leaning into him as he bops to the beat of the music. The way you’re holding his drink in your hand, lifting it up for him occasionally so he can gesticulate in his conversation with some friend of his that you’re only vaguely acquainted with.

You feel the eyes on you as you half listen to them chat. Something dislodges, seems to wriggle around under your skin, or settles in the pit in your stomach and gnaws. Anxiety, something like it. Shame again perhaps? You just know Lando’s arm feels heavy. Your clothes don’t fit right, on your body or in this club. You’re suddenly sure that you’re an imposter, a fraud.

You look for Max, eyes darting around but only find unfamiliar faces looking back at you.

It’s not that your chest starts to feel tight or anything like that, it’s just that out of nowhere there seem to be one million ants crawling around inside your body. You take a deep, steadying breath and it burns. The back of your neck seems to give way, your head spinning.

You blink hard, bring yourself back.

You duck out from under Lando’s arm and mutter, “Be back soon. Bathroom.”

Lando nods absently, lets his arm drop back to his side. You’re not sure what to do with your drink or his, he doesn’t seem to care. So you drop them on an empty bar table and flee to the toilets.

They’re semi-private, dark and (best of all) quiet. Apparently soundproofed from the club outside of it, there’s some crackling lo-fi playing on low volume and blissfully no one else seems to be in here with you.

Because it’s apparently a bathroom for the upper-echelon, there’s a plush armchair in the lounge section that you immediately collapse into. You shove your face into the cushions and breathe slow until your heartbeat returns to what feels like an appropriate pace.

You pull out your phone to text Max,

Ever reliable and always understanding, Max talks you down from the proverbial ledge. He convinces you to go back out and to talk to Lando, who’s always been able to kill the nervousness in your gut when he puts his mind to it. If that fails, then Max promises to order you a taxi back to the hotel.

You thank him profusely, apologise for interrupting anything he was doing with Pietra and gather yourself as effectively as you can—

(“Hey. Is she your girlfriend, man?”

Obtuse as ever, Lando frowns, eyebrows furrowing with it, “What? Nah, she’s my best mate.”

Tony, tips his head back and laughs, “Doesn’t look like it to me. Are you sure?”

Lando nods, crease creasing even harder, “Definitely.”

“Dunno mate, you’re all cozy with ‘er,” Tony shrugs, “If you’re looking to get some this weekend you might want to dial it back.”)

—and back into the crowd.

You fight through to the booth where Lando, his friend and a few others, that you’re again, only tangentially acquainted with are. Lando has moved to sit down on a couch, still wrapped up in conversation with the same guy. He’s got another drink.

You’re half-expecting him to hand a vodka soda with lime to you when you sit down next to him. You feel a confusing mix of guilt and upset when he doesn’t, only barely turns his head to acknowledge you. You sit for a moment, adjusting your dress your bag. Not needing him to stop talking altogether, but hoping to be brought into the conversation. Even for Lando to move so you’re not just staring at his back.

Okay, you blink, maybe this is on you? Maybe you shouldn’t expect drinks from him like that, maybe you should be grown up enough to know how to enter a conversation. Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting here feeling sorry for yourself as you watch him lean over and talk to a girl on the other side of the railing.

You’re ignoring the burning thing in your eyes as you survey the back of Lando’s head and the pretty girl that he’s hanging out of his seat to talk to.

She doesn’t look anything like you.

You feel pathetic just watching them. Especially when her eyes flit briefly to you and you offer up a well-meaning smile. It’s a little weak, a little cobbled together but you’re not a bitch. She might be though— she sneers at you. Only for a short moment, when Lando’s not really looking, but you see it nonetheless.

Oh. Alright. That one’s gonna stick with you.

You turn away immediately, blinking quickly, but tears dropping anyway. You pull your phone out, admit defeat and try to at least quell the thing that’s lodged itself in your throat all of a sudden.

You sling your bag back over your body, then reach out to grab at Lando’s shoulder. You squeeze a little, wait for him to turn his attention to you while you press a knuckle not-gently into your eyeball.

He half-turns, looking up at you but holding a hand out to someone who’s talking to him. Still half-listening to them. You frown, feeling confused over anything else. This… isn’t like him. You don’t get it, why isn’t he treating you like he normally is? You’d understand if he wanted to spend time with other people over you, you get that. Why wouldn’t he just say that if that’s what he wanted? Because that’s clearly the case.

You manage to choke out, “I’m gonna head off.”

Eyes glittering and huge in the dancing lights of the club, his mouth parted, he nods up at you in confirmation. Briefly, you make eye contact before he’s being drawn back into conversation by a shout.

“Sure, yeah. See you later,” he says, patting the hand on your shoulder, then dismissing you as he turns away to pay attention to someone else.

You can’t tell if he’s being a total asshole or you’re pathetic. You know what Max would say. And you’re leaning towards the same thing right now— he’d have known. Seen it plain as fucking day in your expression when he’d looked at you. You don’t know what to make of it. You think you just feel sick.

It’s not like you need him to cater to your every whim. You’d just expected a little bit more. At least for him to notice that you’d nearly had a panic attack in the bathroom. At least for him to not go from being totally normal to icing you out all of a sudden—

and you know he’d done it on purpose, intention aside. You know. Because, historically, he’s been no stranger to it. He knows exactly how it feels.

You’re more hurt by that than anything else.

this turned out longer than i expected lol. but yeah, angsty sorry i didn’t prepare u guys😵‍💫 i’ll either write a part two or i’ll write something else for them in ibiza that isn’t so angsty soon!!!!!

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

After Wes did his part, it's Adrien's turn now

*knock knock*

"Come in! I don't usually have a visitor at 8.30 PM at summertime, to whom do I owe such pleasure? Oh....Adrien, son, why are you still in the office? Everyone usually left around 6 or 7 PM, except Cathy obviously, she's such a reliable assistant for me. Oh crap, enough with the rambling, what's up, son?" the DILF said cheerfully, unaware of Adrien's malicious intention

"Oh, the pleasure's mine, sir *close the door*. Especially when I will explore that tight hunky body of yours using that beautiful rugged hands and feeling all the raw authoritative strength coursing all over my system," Adrien said grinning as he takes a swig of his vial that he dropped to the floor with almost half of its content still left inside it. He found himself delighted with the mint-like yet more intense sensation from the potion as he tried to make his move

Taken aback with his own employee seemingly in lust with him so openly, he tried to speak a few words to get some sense back to Adrien. After all, this is the star recruit from a local Catholic college, why is he openly admitting to his homosexual desire knowing full well that his own boss is very much a devoted followers of Christ? But, the moment Adrien sprinted like his sole life goal literally placed right in front of his lanky 28 years old self, Mr. Wilson knows that shit will go south quickly, so he readied himself for an impact as he closed his eyes and raised his arm before realizing that 80% of Adrien's body already absorbed into him. Now faced with Adrien's face literally super close with his face, Mr. Wilson realized how fucked his situation at this very moment as Adrien's form seemingly turned slimy and his eyes clearly a little bit wrong

"We're going to be so close, I'm practically going to puppet your body to do whatever I desired," Adrien said with a maniacal grin that Mr. Wilson wouldn't expect coming from the usually-reserved new joiner

Adrien then lunged for a deadly kiss that will seal their fate and despite Mr. Wilson effort to move his arm to stop Adrien and turn his head away, rest of Adrien solid-slimy form still not absorbed by Mr. Wilson's body simply splashed on the surface of the DILF's face and upper part of the suit. The "slime" then moved to enter all possible orifices, be it Mr. Wilson's mouth, nostrils or ears, all entries are utilized and stuffed to the brim by the leftover slime. Mr. Wilson's body then convulsed like a fish taken out of the ocean in his seat, battling for its life as the invader inched closer than ever to take full control. His erratic movement and the spreading sensation of the invasion drawn him to unbutton his shirt and tried to do anything to stop the sensation from taking hold over his entire body. Yet, when the cold, slimy feeling managed to gain access to the veins in his cock and simultaneously reached the back of his head, he knows that he's fucked beyond repair. Eventually, Adrien's invasion overwhelmed the 51 years old muscle tank, which then roared in delight as he finally take a deep, crisp breath of the air-conditioned, sandalwood-scented executive suite from the lung of the one and only Robert Wilson. He chuckled in delight as his control become stronger with every second passed with him inside his DILF of a boss body. The body actually started to feel less and less foreign and it's like as if he's always in control of this 5'7" fit ball of muscle within minutes, so in an abuse of his boss muscle memory, Adrien slid the calloused hand Robert Wilson used to shake hands with high-powered executives and bureaucrats into the exposed muscular chest now under his control.

It instantly electrifies him as Robert's memory revealed a very sensitive nipple that always sent the law firm partner to his knees during all his sexual escapades. Adrien experienced the same knee-buckling sensation as he can sense the growing erection confined by the denim. Add to the fact that Adrien just practically aroused the 51 years old by slipping inside of him, creamy white spunk painting his underwear and the rest of his clothing is simply inevitable. Not even a minute after teasing the perky pink nipples of his own boss, Adrien shot the biggest load out of Mr. Wilson's dick as if he's been blue-balling himself for weeks! Adrien simply chuckled to the mess he created,

"Sloppy guy, don't you? Fuck I don't expect you to be this easy, sir," he said as he savored the taste of now-his cum from his finger, the taste and the deep chuckling just sent his flaccid cock into yet another semi

"Hahahahahah, I can do this shit all night long," he said as he grinned mischievously while ensuring that he cleaned all his fingers

Looking at his disheveled reflection, Adrien decided to at least clean himself up before meeting his boyfriend. Besides, he's been dying to see the inside of the executive bathroom inside Mr. Wilson's office, so he strut himself to the secluded bathroom in his soiled clothing, the shit-eating grin plastered on his face as his eyes caught the plaque of the law firm, Wilson, Thorpe, van Beecker, the idea of walking around the law firm he now basically own and demanding attention from everyone as they all practically worked for him now really drive him close to the edge. But, he calmed himself down and managed to get into the bathroom without another spunk spoiling his pants.

Inside the shower, more memories of Mr. Wilson unlocked for him. A dinner plan with his son tonight, yeah, just gonna call that sport after this whole shower to cancel it, and mostly memories about works from the past few months. The sensation feels calming and right, that all of this feels deeply personal yet very much rightfully his. It's like climbing a mountain, there's more sight and area that his eyes can see from a much higher vantage point the longer he climbed, or in this case, the longer he stayed inside this body. He can direct his focus to a certain memories even from the distant past now, like his wedding day, the day his only son was born, the moment he tearfully admitted to his wife that he fell out of love with her and reconnected with his old homosexual desire, everything becomes more and more accessible which certainly can help him to play the part of Robert Wilson through and through. He did all that with his eyes closed, head backed to the wall without realizing that his hand wandered all over his body, feeling all the muscle and the ridges of his weathered, strong physique and letting out momentary delighted moan and groan with each touches and more memories revealed. When the memories showcased the first memory of Mr. Wilson, the merging eventually completed as he no longer viewed Mr. Wilson as a separate entity and seeing his memories from third-person point of view, he's seeing and experiencing it from Mr. Wilson's perspective. As that moment happened, the climax hit Adrien very hard as 53 years of Mr. Wilson's life finally fused very beautifully with his own set of memories, making all the pain, sorrow, joy, lust, euphoria and all sort of sensation that Mr. Wilson went through crashed into his system and knocked himself off as volleys of cum wildly unloaded from the hard 9 incher monster that's been on the edge for the past couple of minutes

Adrien found himself splayed on the bathroom floor, losing track of times and his body sticky from all the mess he sprayed. But he just simply chuckled as he found himself finally fully at home inside this studly DILF body he can comfortably called his now. He just quickly wiped off the excess, drying cum from his body with the shower still running and finished his shower in no time as he cannot let his boyfriend waited any longer

As he walked back to his office, he found it weird that the door is opened and he can clearly listen someone humming from inside. And that's the voice of his son, Carl! Shit, he thought frantically, thinking of any excuse to explain why he's showering in the office and skipping dinner with his son without informing him. As he tried to keep his cool and walked into the office suite, his son suddenly greeted him first with no shirts on whatsoever

"Hello, dad. Or should I say, Adrien,"

That's when Mr. Wilson's eyes darted to the now-empty vial sitting in his desk. Who is this person and how the fuck he's in control of Carl's body????

[springseasonie]

Auralism Pt4 | PJS + ZCL (M)

Jisung x reader x Chenle

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Immediately after your interesting introduction to your long time favorite voice actor, you walk to the back of your place of employment and see someone you weren't expecting.

Warming: sexual content, dom Jisung, sub Chenle, switch-ish reader, voyeurism, a little gay tension ???

Word count: 4,8k

A/N: had to write this like 3 times to finish it then I deleted it immediately after finishing on accident but then we got the doc back 🎉🎉 trials and tribulations my friends but it's finally done!! Very sorry for making promises I couldn't keep but I hope you all like it

Something told you to check the back room for your charger but you didn't expect to see the man you just said bye to 5 minutes ago with his dick in his hands. It's like time froze, the way you and Chenle stared at each other in that room. His eyes wide and your hand gripping the door knob. It was like a silent war being fought. Who would say something first, who would make the first move. Chenle glanced at your feet while watching you stare at the cameras. There was one pointing directly at the back of the counter like always.

It shouldn't have taken you this long to put two and two together, but it did and now alarms are going good in your head. You turned your head, looking away from him for a split second, but in that second, Chenle stood up and grabbed you. Your body instantly froze, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as the door slammed behind you, leaving you in the room with him.

“I know this looks bad but-”

“Looks bad,” you said, brows scrunched in confusion. “Your dick is out.”

Chenle looked down, realizing he was still in a very compromising position. Quickly, he turned and fixed himself, face as pale as ever. He's ever been so embarrassed in his life. Chenle wouldn't say he's the best at bidding his perverted thoughts, but he does a damn good job. But this time, he has no idea how he let himself slip up.

“Were you watching me?” You already knew the answer to the question, mouth becoming dry with each second that passed.

Chenle turned around, empty eyes staring at your bizzare expression. He wanted to say something badly, but he couldn't help himself but let his mind wander under your gaze of scrutiny. The fiery look in your eyes made him hot, the anger in your voice made him sweat.

“I-I was,” he admitted.

You gulped, taking deep breaths to try and stop yourself from becoming angrier than you already were. You never took him to be that kind of person but looks can clearly be deceiving. You and Chenle have always kept things on a very normal note, friendly conversation and brief contact outside of work, so to you, all of this was completely left field. But to him, he would think about it all the time. Chenle is good at hiding his feelings. He can keep it cordial with you if need be, playing the character of the nice reliable male coworker. But once he's clocked out, all he can think of is your pretty lips, the leggings you wear to work, the way you talk. He's obsessed with you and there's only one way to get you off his mind.

“That's a really fucked up thing to do,” you said, voice raising a bit. “That's a creep thing to do. You're a fucking creep.” For a moment, Jisung's presence in the building was completely forgotten. The only thing you could do is focus on your anger, trying to bite your tongue in the best way possible. A shiver shot up your spine watching him stare at your lips, the frown on your mouth not deterring him from his sinful thoughts. For some reason you kind of liked it.

“I'm really sorry,” he said. “I just…I don't know.”

“You're joking right? Instead of actually talking to me you watch me like a fucking weirdo.”

Your words travel right to his dick, degrading giving him a sense of gratification. The annoyance and anger you have for the current situation blinds the clear lustful expression on the man's face. Chenle can't speak knowing he has absolutely no rebuttal to anything you're saying, nodding at every word that comes out of your mouth.

“Fucking sick perverted freak,” you groan, reaching for your jacket and bag. You picked it up swiftly, leaving Chenle to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

Opening the door, you stared at your feet, not seeing the figure that stood in front of you, walking right into him.

“Did I scare you?” Jisung's deep voice snapped your chin up, looking at him with wide eyes after completely forgetting about him. Chenle stood and watched, a hint of jealousy starting to brew in him but also curiosity. He watched you fuck him on camera but would it be different in front of him? Would you be more shy and timid or would you turn it up a notch? Chenle wouldn't describe himself as a voyeur, but he's tempted to take on that label full time.

Jisung is an attractive guy, tall, deep voice, nice lips. Of course you're into him, he's practically perfect. Chenle doesn't think he's inferior to him, just a little different. Regardless, you're still attracted to him so it doesn't matter who you have sex with, he'll still have a chance.

“I'm sorry I forgot you were out there,” you said in a panic, only for Jisung to shrug his shoulders.

“Well I see that,” he says. He looks up from you, facing the man who stood across the room. “And who is this?”

Jisung eyes him closely, eyes moving up and down to size him up. You look at him nervously, gulping at the unwanted interaction. You didn't want this to end your chances of ever seeing him again, wanting for Chenle to go home as quickly as possible. But every time you looked at him he was hoping he didn't have to leave. He stood there silent as he allowed his hard on to grow more and more slowly. Was he thinking about fucking you and Jisung watches or the other around? Or was he thinking about Jisung and himself fucking you at the same time?

“Chenle.” You answer. “He was…”

“Watching us?” Jisung looks at you, brow raised when your brows furrow.

“I-I was not-”

“Don't lie,” Jisung said. Deep voice filled the room. “you're a creep.” Chenle watched Jisung sneak his hand around your waist, pulling you to his body. He pressed your hips against his groin, burying his face in your neck. A smirk slid across his face watching Chenle’s eyes widen at the sight, staring at Jisung's hands sliding down your hips and between your legs.

Chenle takes the scene in, your small gasp tickling his ears as he watches the man rub you between your leggings. He can feel the blood moving right to his dick making it harder and harder. He watches Jisung take his other hand off your hip and place it on your neck, holding your jaw firmly.

“Look at him Y/N, he looks like he's gonna explode,” Jisung says in your ear.

You look at Chenle whose cheeks are like tomatoes. Mouth slightly open, lips dry as he watches you get felt up steps away from him. He wants to touch you too, to feel you, hear you. You were beginning to enjoy this, Jisung touching you like he owned you and Chenle being forced to watch like a sad puppy. Jisung rubbed your clothes clit, smirking as you let out soft moans. 

“You're so pretty. Right Chenle? Isn't she pretty?” 

He gulped, breath hitching when the younger male suddenly turned his attention to him. “Y-yes of course.” 

“Prove it.” 

Chenle gave him a blank stare. “W-what?” 

“Show her how pretty you think she is.”

Chenle watches Jisung reach into your pants, your hands wrapped around his wrist as he begins to toy with your body, moans pouring from your lips. Mindlessly, Chenle's hands reach into his own as well, wrapping his palm around his cock, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck,” you whine softly, pushing your body against Jisung's hand more. Your eyes were closed, but there was no doubt Chenle's eyes were on you. Jisung kissed your forehead, circling his fingers in your soaked cunt while you grind, a scene that played in Chenle's mind for a long time. 

The male across the room kept pumping himself as slow as possible, not wanting to cum too fast from watching you. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“Tell her what you like about her,” Jisung ordered, blinking slowly at the man in front of him. 

“I..uh..” he could barely think straight. All he could think about was pushing the guy away and taking you right there. Feeling your tight pretty pussy around him, making you scream his name. “I like her eyes..”

Jisung scoffed, his gaze on you permanent as he slowly pushed two fingers into your wet hole. 

“J-Jisung, fuck,” you whines softly, knees feeling like jelly when he begins to move them in you. 

“I know baby, I know,” he mumbles. 

Chenle hadn't realized how fast he was pulling himself, hand constantly moving like it had a mind of its own. His heavy breathing was heard all over the room, so much so it caught your attention. You opened your eyes, staring right at him. His flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, pretty lips. You're loving this more and more as the seconds go by, wanting to torture him a little bit more. 

“Her eyes can't be the only thing you like.” 

Chenle opens his mouth, but can barely focus with the way you're grinding on Jisung's fingers, desperate for more as you maintain eye contact with him. “I-I like her lips. The way she says my name. I like her..fuck..her nice ass..” 

Your lips curve into a smirk hearing him speak, begging him to keep speaking. 

“Prettiest voice, prettiest moans..” 

Chenle is breathless at this point, mouth dry watching you bite your lip, furrowing your brows at the combination of Jisung's fingers and Chenle's praise. The sweat glistening on your forehead under the dim lighting made you even prettier. The boy's soft pants were turning into moans, hand quickly pumping himself as Jisung speeds up his fingers inside of you.

“Ji, oh fuck,” you whimpered, legs clamping around his hand.

“Gonna come for me, hm? Cum all over yourself like a dirty little slut?” 

He watches you, lips between his teeth as you nod fast, not daring to tear your eyes from him. His fingers continue pounding into your sloppy wet hole, the sound of your pussy filling the room. Your eyes roll back, pressure building in your stomach faster and faster. Your walls are getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, mouth open as you moan over and over again. 

“I-Im cumming, fuck Jisung,” you moan, head falling on his shoulder, body shaking at the feeling. Your cream all over his hand, hips pushing on his fingers more and more as you reached your high. 

The both of you completely forgot about the other body across the room, lost in each other's touch and feeling. Chenle didn't even realize he came until he removed his hand from his pants, the sticky liquid all over his hand making him cringe. He's never been in a situation like this before, watching someone have sex right in front of him, being caught watching someone. It's a turn on, a sensation he never knew existed. 

“Chenle,” Jisung stated, “get on your knees.”

“W-what?” 

“Get down.” 

Chenle felt his stomach erupt in nerves, carefully falling to his knees on the other side of the room. He watches you walk up to him carefully, the prettiest glow in your skin that he's ever seen. The man is silent as he watches you undress in front of him, shoes go first, your leggings come down painfully slow. He needed you so badly he could practically taste you already, already seeing how much you came through your panties.

“You don't get to touch her till I say so,” Jisung says, coming behind you placing his hands on your hips. 

Chenle gulped, still watching you from his lashes. You hadn't said a word, allowing Jisung to take the lead on the entire situation and for some reason that scared him. 

“What do you want from her right now?” 

Chenle gazed at you, a dreamy expression in his eyes while watching your hand trail done to your panties. “I want to taste her.” 

“I'll let you if you apologize,” you respond, a shaky breath falling from your lips when your finger grazes your swollen clit. 

“I-Im sorry.” 

“For?”

The man looked like a puppy below you, brows knit, faint whines coming from him. If he had a tail, it would be wagging off the charts. His hands are grabbing at his pants, his hard on so clearly visible. He's nervous, not sure what to say and it's making him sweat but he has to say something. 

“For���uh…”

“For being a creep,” you finish, tone a bit stern. He nods, making you raise your brow slightly. “Say it.” 

“I'm sorry for being a creep.” 

“And?”

He gulps. The back and forth is beginning to frustrate him, just wanting to move your ruined panties to the side and give you what you've been dying for. But he knows he needs to do whatever you ask. After all, he is in the wrong. 

“And watching you in secret.” 

“Good boy,” you mumbled with a soft smile. Jisung rubbed circles in your hips, watching you pull your soaked underwear to the side. Chenle didn't wait for a single second before letting his mouth attach to your core. He ate you like a starved man, sucking and licking any part of you he could. Chenle's sweaty palms grabbed your legs, squeezing your thighs as if they were stress balls. 

“Fuck he's really going at you baby,” Jisung's raspy voice spoke in your ear, hands slipping under your shirt massaging your breasts. Jisung kisses your neck softly and slowly, grinding his clothed cock on your ass. 

“Fuck Chenle,” you whimper softly. He sucks your clit nice and hard, slurping noises filling the room. “Just like that.” 

He looks at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you for approval as he flicks his tongue on your sensitive bud. Chenle keeps going, unable to hold back making you begin to shiver. Chenle feels your legs getting weak, but the other male behind you holds you up. He starts to groan, feeling you grind on his mouth, wanting to feel more of him. Chenle sticks his tongue out, allowing you to grind on his face more. 

“You look so pretty, baby. Keep fucking his face, just like that,” Jisung whispers in your ear, instantly giving you butterflies. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, grabbing Chenle's hair pulling him closer to you. He flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud faster, his groans turning you on more and more. He sucks your clit hard, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. “Shit.. you're such a good boy..” 

“Are you gonna cum in his mouth,” Jisung whispers. 

You nod, moans getting louder and louder by the second. Your grip on his hair got stronger, making the boy whine in pain and pleasure. You could feel him melt in your hands when you came, legs trembling when his tongue lapped up your juices, eyes never breaking from your pretty face. 

But before Chenle could get too carried away, Jisung pulls your hand off his head, pulling his face from your legs. He was a mess, his hair disheveled, lips pink and plump, face wet with your cum. He's never been this desperate for a girl in his life, but you bring it out in him in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“You had your fun,” Jisung mumbled, pulling your body from the man on the ground. “Now I'll have mine, and you're gonna stay there and watch.” 

Without a word of protest, the man pulled you to the small couch that was on the wall behind you, plopping into it. He watches you, eyes never leaving your body as you climb on top of him. You hadn't had sex in ages, the sheer anticipation of feeling him inside you sending you off your rocker. The location of the sinful act didn't even cross your mind, your place of employment now feeling like a second home in a way. 

Chenle almost immediately took his cock from his pants, pumping it to the sight of you on top of the other man, watching you grind and kiss him. He couldn't see your face, but he didn't need to, not when your ass was perfectly fine. His eyes traced the lines of your back, hand squeezing his shaft as he wished it was himself you were on top of. 

Jisung kisses you in the sloppiest way possible. Tongue and saliva everywhere, his hands all over your body. You put your hands on his shoulders, lips still locked to each other's as you feel his hands rubbing your thighs, snaking to your ass. His big hands squeeze you, pushing you on his hard cock for more stimulation. 

“I wanna sit on your cock,” you mumble on his lips, peppering kisses on his jawline. 

Jisung says nothing, just reaches down into his shorts, pulling out his rock hard cock. You straddled his lap, knees sinking into either side of him. The male underneath you, pulls your panties to the side, pressing his tip into you. From how much you struggled to get him into your mouth, you knew getting him inside you was going to be a challenge. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, brows knitting when you felt a slight stretch. 

“You can do it baby.” Jisung's breathe hitches the moment he feels your walls engulf his tip, squeezing around him him. It was taking everything in him not to just ram into you at the moment. His head falls back, your eyes still on his face. Chenle watched you, eyes burning into your back as he watched you grind on the man, taking in every inch of your body in. 

With every move you made, Chenle matched in his hands, stroking himself as you grind slowly, speeding up when you sped up. Your moans made him shiver, groaning softly as he squeezed himself in his palms. Chenle nearly came when you looked over your shoulder, staring right at him as you moved the scene feeling like it came right out a porno. 

Jisung held onto your hips, fingertips pressing into your sides tight. He couldn't stop thinking about how you probably dreamt of this moment, thought about fucking him all the time, riding him till you cried. He could tell by your face that you were completely lost in the movements. So wet, he could slip out of you at any time. “Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, brows furrowed. 

Jisung smirked, eyes looking over your shoulder to see the other man jerking himself at an embarrassingly fast pace watching you ride him. Jisung held your hips tight, taking in your whimpering as you began to move faster. “Fuck, so big,” you whine, holding his shoulders tight. Your body shivers in his hands, hot skin making his palms sweat.

The sounds from your lips almost sent Chenle into overdrive, your sweet soft voice crying out and begging for more making him harder and harder. Chenle shivered when his fingertips dragged over his sensitive tip, the action making his hips buck into his hand. All he could do was imagine it was your tight pussy around his throbbing cock, imagine you were riding the life out of him. Chenle watches the way Jisung digs his fingers into your flesh, drinking every indent the man makes in your skin. He just wants to touch you, fuck you, make you feel good, but you won't let him. He doesn't mind, at least you didn't smack him and kick him out. 

Jisung slides his hands to your ass, squeezing tight as he begins to groan softly. “Just like that baby girl,” he said, a raspy voice filling your ears. “You wanna cum on my cock?” 

“Y-yes..” A gasp flies out your lips when Jisung lifts  you off his lap, laying you down on the couch. The man threw your leg in the air, sitting it on his shoulder as he stuffed his cock back inside you. You could barely catch your breath when he began drilling into you, your moans turning into whines and cries of pleasure all while lying there staring at Chenle who was still watching in awe. 

Chenle pumped his cock faster, watching the way your chest rose as you breathed. Your face fell on the dirty fabric, eyes fluttering open to look directly into his. A smile pulled your lips as you reached your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as you watched him. Seeing him absolutely lost in you, helpless and desperate, wanting to feel you and be inside you, made you feel powerful. Chenle's moans were music to your ears, Jisung's hands all over your body, your senses heightened. 

“Fuck..I'm gonna cum,” you moaned breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” Chenle, sucking in his breath fast when he started to feel himself getting close. You watched him watch you moan uncontrollably, your lust taking over your senses seeing how fucked out he already was with just his hand. 

“Chenle,” you whimper, making the boy's eyes go wide. “Chenle, I'm so fucking close.”

Jisung didn't bat an eyelash, smirking as he continued to fuck the life out of you. His lip slipped between his teeth watching you rub your sensitive clit faster, pounding into you harder. “That's my girl,” he grunted. “Keep playing with yourself, cum all over me.” 

Your fingers kept rubbing, eye contact never breaking with Chenle while Jisung kept going as if he wasn't even there. The teary look on your face sent the man into overdrive, just that one look making him spill out all over his hand with a loud moan. Chenle couldn’t bear to look away from you, so pretty and sweaty, eyes wet with lust and desire. He's pathetic and he knows it, but if it makes you happy he'll live with it.

Jisung's grip on your leg tightens, his climax closer and closer. You can recognize those moans and grunts from anywhere, knowing he was about to cum. 

“Cum Jisung, cum in me,” you whimpered, mascara covering your cheeks. “Shit, shit..” Your orgasm hit you like a car, your whimpers turning into loud cries, body jerking underneath the man on top of you. Jisung still continued to pound into you, practically fucking the breath out of your body. With every gasp that left your lips, he went harder. Your trembling hands reached up, grabbing at his chest as you whined loudly. 

“I'm almost there, baby girl..” you were so tight around him, he was surprised he could even move. Jisung pounded into you until he came deep inside you, holding his breath as he released inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. 

A calm silence fell over the room, nothing but breathing bouncing off the walls and into your ears. You're hot, sweaty and completely delirious to the events that have just taken place within the past 30 minutes. Having sex with your favorite voice actor in front of your hot perverted coworker was not in your plans for the night, but you definitely cannot complain. 

“I can cross that off my bucket list,” Jisung chuckled, breaking the silence. “Jesus, that was fucking crazy..” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. But that was the only thing you could say. You couldn't even look at Jisung, let alone Chenle who still sat on the floor in front of you two. That's when you and Jisung hear shuffling, turning your heads to look at the man standing up in a hurry, shoving his now flaccid cock back into his pants. 

“I-I uh… I have to go.” Chenle grabbed his things hastily, bolting for the door without sparing either of you a second glance. 

Before you protest, the door slams, leaving you and Jisung alone. You look up at the man, mouth open in shock. 

“Wasn't that fun,” he says, beaming a tired smile at you. Jisung pulls out, his cum slowly dripping out of you onto the black couch. 

“That was…something else.” You're still shell shocked, the events not yet setting in. Jisung shuffles from between your legs, fixing up his pants and clothes. That's when you notice just how naked you actually were. “Fuck,” you mumbled. 

Putting your clothes back on, your legs felt sore from holding them in position for too long. A small hiss left your lips, making Jisung chuckle softly. “I did a bit much, didn't I,” he questioned. 

“Nothing I didn't like.” 

You stand up, slipping your shoes on while he towers over you, watching you silently with a smirk on his face. “Give me your number.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your forehead, somewhat confused and surprised at his request. “My number?”

“Did you think I was gonna fuck you and never speak to you again? Especially when you're such a devoted fan?”

There it goes, your stomach erupting into butterflies like earlier. “You always know the right things to say,” you laugh. You're trying to keep it together, but unfortunately you're easy to read. 

“So, can I have it?” He licks his lips, eyeing you down like he's going to devour you. 

You gulp, nodding at his request. 

“Good girl. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

~

Walking into work the next day made your head rattle. All you could focus on were the sinful acts that took place behind that very counter your coworker Lily stood. You try to keep it normal, saying hi to everyone before walking into the back. 

Your body tenses when you see Chenle putting his things in his locker, the man turning around hearing your footsteps. You were expecting him to ice you out, but he gave you a small smile, nodding his head at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, completely monotone. 

“Hey..” you put your things in your locker, gulping as he stood there, trying to not make it obvious that he was staring at you. But the awkward energy was eating away at your insides so you had to say something. “About yesterday I-”

“I'm sorry I stormed out. I was completely overwhelmed and embarrassed,” he interrupted. 

Your brows scrunch, head cocked to the side in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why were you-”

“I shouldn't have watched you like that. I'm sorry,” he admitted, avoiding eye contact. 

Your expression was blank, trying to compute his words. “Chenle, I don't care about any of that.” 

“Oh…”

“I wanted to tell you that yesterday was fun. I had fun and I hope you did too,” you said looking up at him sheepishly. “I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us.”

“I-it’s not awkward!” 

“Are you sure?? It seems awkward now,” you chuckle. 

Chenle takes a deep breath, before turning to you, his fingers toying with the sleeve of his jacket. “Listen, I really like you and yesterday was… an enigma. I want to get to know you on more of a personal note.” 

“Yesterday was personal.”

Chenle sighed, closing his eyes to try and rephrase his words. You stood there watching him struggle in amusement as he faced the ground. “Not personal in that way, personal in less of a coworker way,” he says. “A friendly way.” 

The reality of having options weighs on you all of sudden. You're very much attracted to both Jisung and Chenle. Chenle is cute, and wants to know you on more than a sexual level. Jisung has been your wet dream for years and seems like a pretty cool guy, not to mention the sexual chemistry with both of them is out of this world. There's no way they'd let you have your cake and eat it too. But you wouldn't know unless you try. 

You took a deep breath before speaking, biting your tongue as you stared at him through your lashes. “Jisung and I are hanging out later if you want to come,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” he says. Chenle's mouth goes dry looking at your face. “I-I could hang out with you guys.” 

“Only if you want to,” you add. 

“I-I want to.” 

“Are you sure?” You sense a bit of doubt in his answer but that feeling immediately goes away when you watch his jaw clench and his eyes harden. 

He nods, his staring only intensifying as the clatter in the cafe plays in your ears as back noise. He wants you so badly at the moment, to just shove you in the lockers and show you a good time, but he won't and he can't, so for now all he can do is agree to hang out with you. 

“Then um.. I'll see you later.” Your body is hot as you scurry away from the man, his unintentional hungry gaze making you feel small, but you liked it. 

“Yeah, bye.” His words faded out as the door shut behind you, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and his hard on. Chenle would never describe himself as a cuck but after the events that transpired the night before, watching the girl who isn't his girl but still his girl gets fucked by a handsome man wasn't all that bad. 

And he can't wait to do it again. 

[fastboatsmojito]

Inspired by this req !

Hot and Heavy - Gym Nerd! Scott Miller x Reader

| A/N; title based on the song by Lucy Dacus but the song itself is irrelevant to the plot lmao also pls don’t chew gum while you work out this is just Fiction <3

| CW; mostly just some good old bickering in a non-angsty way, Scott being Scott + the tiniest soft spot for you, I think that’s it 💆🏻‍♂️ I was going to make this smutty but it didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to force it so !

He was always there by the time you arrived, already sweaty and intense as you walked in.

“Jesus, Scott. You ever sleep?” You scoffed, setting your bag down and stretching your arms.

“Eight hours.” He barely looked up to talk to you, focused on the weights in front of him.

Of course. He was unintentionally irritating, the crisp, clean compression shirt he sported making the size of him just that much more unavoidable. You weren’t competing with him - you couldn’t if you wanted to, but he wasn’t a bad ‘gym buddy’, disregarding his grumpy attitude and refusal to actually call you that.

He never overstepped, he was quiet but reliable, giving you space and unenthusiastically spotting you whenever you asked.

You held your hand out towards him as he walked over and grabbed his bag, rolling his eyes at you before taking out a piece of gum.

“You get one. If you swallow it again that’s on you.” He said, the piece of gum still in his hand pointing at you as he spoke.

“Already cranky, I see.” You snatched the gum out of his hand, grinning at his less than pleased expression.

——

After a while you got a little overzealous with some weights, voice coming out shaky when you realized it was too much for you to lift all the way. “Shit- um, Scott?”

“What?” He didn’t look up at you when he replied. He didn’t usually have to, used to you asking him whatever questions popped up in your head during your workout, gym related or not.

“Can you come grab this for me?” He looked up then, disregarding his strict routine to jog over to you.

“Yeah. Fuck, why’d you add all this shit? You know that’s too much, right?” He lifted it back up for you, as soon as he was in front of you with his hands on his hips you knew you were in for one of his infamous lectures.

“I know now. I thought I could handle it-“ You tried to explain yourself, clearly falling short when he shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid. I won’t be able to workout if I’m too busy worrying about you breaking your neck. If you need help, just ask-“ He reprimanded, putting his hand up to stop you from interrupting him.

“Before it’s too much. That’s the only reason we’re here at the same time.” He always looked like someone’s dad when he got like this, aggressively chewing his gum with a disapproving look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right, I’ll ask for help next time.” You muttered before standing up, motioning to walk off before he stopped you.

“Before-“ He moved to stand in front of you like some angry bouncer, waiting on you to finish his sentence.

“Before it’s too much. I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be smart.” That’s what he always said, you always apologized anyway.

——

You were done after that, uncomfortably dripping sweat from basically every part of your body, walking over to grab your water bottle as you met Scott on the bench. You sat down as he intently watched you trying to massage your leg.

“You hurt your leg, or what?”

“Just a cramp.” You sighed, laying down on the bench instead.

“Come here.” You propped yourself up on your elbows after he said it, confused expression on your face like he just said something insane.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just come here.” He motions for you to move closer to him with his hand, grabbing your leg and placing it in his lap when you were close enough. As soon as his hand moved to your leg you tensed up, unsure of what exactly what you were expecting but surprised nonetheless.

“What’s your problem? Christ just let me massage it out for you, don’t be a brat.” He complained, hands massaging over one of your legs when you relaxed.

“I’m not being a brat, you’re just not exactly the affectionate type.” You winced as he was particularly rougher right where it hurt.

“This isn’t affection, this is you not getting enough calcium and overworking yourself. That’s not on me.” He continued, moving to the other leg when he was pleased with your satiated breathing.

“You know I do this on purpose, right? I choose to do this, even if I’m a dick about it sometimes. I just want you to do it correctly, not get yourself hurt.”

“You’re a dick about it most of the time.” You corrected, sure you heard a light laugh out of him.

“But yeah, I know. Softy.” He rolled his eyes at the unusual nickname, tapping your leg to move it before he stood up.

“Hit the showers, you’re all sweaty.” He cracked his knuckles as he said it before walking away, ignoring your final remark.

“There he is.”

——

[steddieas-shegoes]

disposable hero

for @steddiesongfics using the song disposable heroes by metallica released (appropriately and specifically for eddie munson to come back) in 1986

rated m | 1919 words | cw: implied sexual content, temporary character death, implied violence, blood, mind/body control | tags: kas!eddie, the good guys win, getting together, reunions, first kiss, hurt/comfort

◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️

Eddie woke to nothing.

Well, there was something. There were things.

But nothing that led him to believe he was safe, or even alive.

He was cold. He was pretty sure if he was dead he wouldn’t feel cold. Or maybe he would. Maybe this was his own version of hell: darkness and a cold that lingers in your bones, seeking sunlight it will never find.

Time doesn’t seem to pass, but he knows it is. The solitude only adds to the lingering emptiness in his chest.

He yearns for warmth, yearns for a friendly face, someone to talk to. He isn’t sure where he is. His last memory was Dustin crying, and he thinks he can vaguely remember someone else yelling his name and apologizing, but he can’t be too sure of anything in this place.

There isn’t much to do except wander, hope for someone or something to appear to make some sense of where he is.

He’s alone.

He’s scared, but trying not to be.

He’s pretty sure he’s been abandoned, but is trying so hard not to let that bother him. The weight in his chest at the thought of everyone moving on isn’t quite as heavy as the weight at the thought of him being dead.

Eventually, the knowledge that he was being watched was all he could focus on. He couldn’t figure out who it was, where they were, or what they were hoping to see.

He kept wandering, hoping for any sign, communication, a way to get back home.

A voice in his head told him to prepare, but he didn’t know what for. The voice told him to be ready for blood, to be ready to taste.

The voice told him he’d be on the frontlines, but frontlines for what?

He wasn’t reliable under pressure, as evidence clearly showed. He didn’t feel like he was capable of what this voice wanted.

But he felt the compulsion to listen, to do what the voice asked. Something in the back of his mind pulled until he lost the ability to reason against the voice.

His time blurred even more, the darkness became a background thought as the voice spoke to him, spouting words that would sink deeply into his hindbrain.

********

Eddie heard voices, something different from the voice telling him to prepare. He could recognize them vaguely.

One voice in particular, though this time it wasn’t crying and begging him to be okay.

Henderson.

The voice in his head pulled him away, made him ignore the freedom in that tone.

He didn’t feel anything for a while. He didn’t see anything. He wasn’t anything.

And then he heard it.

His name.

He saw Steve standing in the corner of a completely destroyed house. The room was unrecognizable but it vaguely resembled a bedroom.

“Eddie. Please. This isn’t you.”

What did that even mean? Of course it was him. He was Eddie.

He looked down at his hands, bloody and shaking, claws covered in unrecognizable debris. His clothes were torn, his body was sore, bruised in places he didn’t realize he could.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie did. He could listen to this voice. He could let this voice drown out the other one, the one trying so hard to control and push and shove him into a battle he didn’t want to be a part of.

“You’re okay. You didn’t hurt any of the kids,” Steve was holding his hands up as he came closer, slowly. “You won’t hurt me, right?”

Eddie grunted.

“You’ll be okay. I promise. El is helping and we’ll get you home. You wanna go home, right?”

Did he? Up until now, he didn’t know going home was an option. He didn’t even know there was a home to go back to.

What was home? What did he remember?

Steve’s hands covered his, and Eddie tried to pull away.

“Blood.” Eddie’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t even sure if Steve heard.

“I don’t care,” Steve reached for his hands again. “It’s been a year of wishing I could fix what happened. A year of wanting to know what your hands feel like when you’re not dying in my arms.”

Eddie felt a strange whimpering noise bubble out of his throat as he took in the state of Steve.

He couldn’t remember everything, but he knew this wasn’t the Steve that he went into the Upside Down with. This was a shell of the Steve he knew. Dark circles under his eyes made him look pale and withdrawn, and his hair had been cut shorter. He seemed thin, missing some of the muscle in his arms and legs.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’m gonna keep you safe. You’re gonna stay here with me until I get a signal that El is done with what she needed to do.”

“Safe. Steve safe?”

The beaming smile on Steve’s face seemed out of place, but Eddie couldn’t help giving what he hoped was a decent smile back. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to smile.

“I’m safe. We’re gonna keep each other safe now.”

The voice in his head was white noise compared to the soothing words coming from Steve.

Minutes passed, and Eddie found it easy to be present with Steve, taking mental note of every movement.

Steve had pulled off his jacket and used it to wipe off as much of the mess coating their skin as he could, only pausing for a moment at the sharp claws replacing normal fingernails on Eddie’s hand.

A flash outside the window followed by a silence made Eddie look at Steve with a silent question in his eyes.

“Alright, we gotta go.”

Steve pulled Eddie along, out of the house that didn’t fit in Eddie’s memories, down the road and towards a set of bikes laying on the ground.

“Kids should be here any second-“

He was interrupted by yelling.

“Eddie!” Dustin and Mike were the first ones to them, but Steve held his hand up to stop them.

His other hand stayed locked with Eddie’s.

“Don’t overwhelm him. One at a time. Slow.”

The kids listened, and something in Eddie’s brain was shocked at that. Were they bad kids?

Dustin hugged him, but Eddie could tell he was holding back. He wrapped his one available arm around him and awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“Henderson.”

Dustin looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. “Yeah, man. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Wheeler.” Eddie looked up at Mike, who was very obviously struggling to maintain composure. “Taller.”

Everyone laughed and Steve squeezed his hand. Mike leaned in for a hug, but was interrupted by yelling.

“Eddie!” Lucas barreled over, ignoring Steve’s too-late warning to take it easy.

That’s okay, though. Eddie was pretty strong now.

He held all three of them against him, not letting go of Steve’s hand the entire time.

Warmth flooded back in, pushing the cold back to where it belonged instead of inside him.

********

“What is he?” Eddie overheard Dustin ask Steve outside the bathroom.

“Not sure. Alive, though. That’s the most important thing.”

Eddie had been ordered to shower, but he’d been quick, and they hadn’t shown him how to turn the water off. There were at least six different knobs or dials that didn’t make sense. He was just standing there with a towel over his shoulders, naked, listening to their conversation.

“Do you think he’s still dangerous?”

“I don’t think he was ever a danger to us. He would’ve hurt us-”

“He hurt you.”

Eddie let out a whimper before slamming open the door.

“Oh, God, dude! Clothes!” Dustin yelled before turning and walking away.

Steve pushed him all the way into the bathroom and closed the door, pointedly not looking below his chest.

“Let’s get the towel on you,” Steve suggested, tugging it off his shoulder and trying to wrap it around his waist without looking.

Eddie could care less about the towel. He knocked Steve’s hands away and tried to look over every inch of visible skin.

“Hurt?”

“Only a little. I’m okay. You stopped,” Steve tried again to get the towel around Eddie for his modesty, but Eddie wasn’t having it.

“Fix it.”

Steve felt his eyes water. “It’s just some scratches. They’ll heal quick.”

“Fix.”

Steve pulled his shirt up and Eddie saw the “scratches.” They were more like gashes, one even maybe needed stitches.

“Always a hero.”

Steve snorted, pulling his shirt back down. “Pan meet pot.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. Steve waved it off.

“Anyway, I can clean it up as soon as you’re done. You look done. Are you done?”

Eddie wasn’t letting Steve brush him off. The more aware he became, the more he remembered, and he knew Steve was the type to brush off even the worst injuries.

“Fix. Now.”

He pushed Steve against the counter as gently as possible, pulled his shirt off over his head, and dropped to his knees to look at the bloody lines along already-healed scars.

“Eddie-” Steve sounded breathless.

Eddie looked up at him, hands gently covering his hips. “I did it?”

Steve’s breath left him in a rush as he pulled Eddie’s hands away and fell to his knees in front of him.

“Vecna did it. He used you to hurt all of us, but you only got me a little before you realized.” Steve was warm, always so warm. Eddie had a hard time focusing on his words when the heat from his skin was calling out to him louder. “You stopped on your own. I’m okay.”

“Warm. Mine.”

If Steve wasn’t warm before, he certainly was now.

“Eds, you’re, um. You should get dressed.”

“No. Warm.” Eddie pulled Steve into his chest and held him there, letting the warmth take over completely.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he breathed out, voice shaking. Eddie could feel his breathing where their chests were touching, uneven and borderline panicking. “Missed you so much.”

“Here now.”

“Yeah,” Steve let out a small laugh. ��You are. Can’t believe it.”

“Yours?” Eddie felt exhaustion seeping in where the cold had been present before. He wasn’t sure if he was even coherent enough for Steve to understand.

Steve’s lips brushed against his bare shoulder before he pulled back. “Yours like…a boyfriend?”

Eddie wracked his brain trying to figure out what exactly a boyfriend was. He never had one, he didn’t think.

But he remembered thinking as he was dying the first time that Steve would be a good boyfriend. He remembered feeling like he could be a good boyfriend for Steve.

“Hold hands?”

Steve giggled. “Yeah, we could do that. Like earlier?”

“Kiss.”

Steve’s smile faltered. “Yeah. Could do that if you want.”

Eddie felt his own smile growing, watching as Steve blushed.

“Kiss?” He asked this time, wanting Steve to be able to say no. He didn’t want Steve to feel like he had no choice, not when Eddie knew firsthand what it was like to have your choices taken from you.

Steve nodded, leaning in to gently press his lips to Eddie’s.

“I should shower,” Steve said against his mouth.

“Me too.”

“You already did,” Steve snorted.

“Again.”

“Even when you don’t have words, you’re a menace,” Steve shook his head fondly before pecking his lips again. “Fine, but the kids are all downstairs and they will check on us soon if we don’t come down.”

“Later?”

Steve nodded. “Later,” he promised.

[emo-batboy]

Okay what is this I keep hearing about Harvery Dent and Bruce Wayne being caught kissing???? Storytime?

Okay so this is probably a much longer winded story than I’m sure you expected but here’s my whole explanation of Harvey/Two-Face in the Battinson universe:

I always like to imagine that there is a distinct difference between Harvey and Two-Face. In this world, Harvey is regarded as an accomplished man suffering from DID who is forced to live in Arkham to keep his second personality, Two-Face, behind bars. Meanwhile, Two-Face is a notorious crime boss and master manipulator. They share the same body, yes, and it almost impossible to tell them apart sometimes, yes, but Bruce is the only person that can reliably tell who is in control.

You see, over the years, Two-Face has become an expert at pretending to be Harvey, so much so that the guards at Arkham just refer to them as Dent now. There have been several incidents where doctors believed Harvey was somehow cured of his DID and they gave him more privileges due to “good behavior,” only for Two-Face to bash a prison guard’s skull in while trying to escape.

But the one person he can’t fool is Bruce, the man who knows Harvey so intimately that he can examine his facial features down to the micro expression.

They thought they would get married one day, Bruce and Harvey. It was sickeningly sweet. They were so madly in love. Then the accident worsened Harvey’s condition. Bruce will never forgive Two-Face for taking his true love away from him.

Bruce visits Arkham once a week to see Harvey. Only the guards know about their past relationship because the two can’t stop giving one another heart eyes while they play chess and tell each other about their day. They’ll talk for hours, and it’s no secret that a pretty, Bambi-eyed, lovestruck Brucie Wayne will pay off any guard to see his “friend” for another fifteen minutes or so.

But sometimes, Bruce walks into the room, sees Dent’s face, and immediately storms out. Because it’s Two-Face. Posing as his former lover, wearing his lips and cheeks and nose, but the eyes are just wrong, all wrong, and he’s giving Bruce a smile that isn’t even close to Harvey’s gorgeous smile. And it’s sick. The guards can’t tell, the other patients prisoners can’t tell, no one else can tell but oh, Bruce can fucking tell.

On other days, Bruce will be talking with Harvey one second, only to stop mid-sentence, scowl at him, and say, “Give him back. I’m not talking to you.”

Two-Face breaks into a grin. “I can never pull one over on you, can I, sweetheart?”

“Shut the fuck up. Where is he?”

“He says he loves you, and you look very nice.”

Bruce has been held back by the guards several times for this very reason. He blames himself that they can’t hold hands during visits anymore. Instead, they talk through that stupid fucking glass, but at least they get a private room. The guards now know that even if pretty Brucie Wayne looks sweet and delicate when talking to Harvey, he can also throw a decent punch.

On good weeks, it’ll be nothing but soft words and smiles.

“I finally bought those chocolates you recommended,” Bruce says.

Harvey smiles. “Did you like them?”

“I did. Thank you.”

On bad weeks, Bruce will leave with hot tears streaming down his face, and the guards will treat Two-Face just a little harsher than necessary as they escort him back to his cell.

Sometimes, it’s a mix of both. Even rarer are the days when Harvey comes back right before Bruce leaves to say goodbye to his angel. Those moments are the most tender because they all know Harvey has trouble taking control back. But he did it for Bruce, just to make him smile again before they parted ways.

One day, however, a guard thinks he can flirt with Bruce. He makes a move when no one’s looking and receives an answer in the form of a black eye. Only a day later, he gets maimed by Dent and lands in the hospital. Bruce learns about it during his next visit.

“Your boyfriend’s other half tried to kill that guard last week,” another guard tells him.

“The one that grabbed my ass?”

“Two-Face put him in a coma.”

Bruce chuckles and picks at a loose thread from his dress shirt. “What you makes you so sure it was Two-Face?”

No guard tries making a move on Arkham’s favorite visitor again. And the star-crossed lovers keep seeing one another and confessing their undying love. Even after they accept their fate. Even when Bruce tells Harvey about Selina and how he’s slowly falling in love with her too. But something is holding him back.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Bruce whispers.

“I don’t either,” Harvey says, tracing his love’s hand through the bulletproof glass, “but I want you to be happy.”

“But I’m happy with you.” Bruce was always a crybaby, but he hates crying in here the most.

“You can be happy with me in here. But I can’t bear to be the reason you’re not happy out there.”

After a bit more convincing, Bruce finally agrees. Before beginning a new relationship, he tells Selina about him and Harvey, tells her that it’s non-negotiable, and she accepts it.

The next time Dent breaks out of Arkham, Selina gets a visitor. “Break his heart, and I’ll drown you in the pier,” he says.

Selina smiles as her hoard of cats purr against the stranger. Maybe they can tell just like Bruce can. Or maybe this is Two-Face doing Harvey a favor. Either way, she doesn’t particularly care.

Selina gives him a once-over and nods. “Likewise.”

Anyway, yes, that is my BruHarvey lore. Hope you enjoyed :)

@bruciemilf this is right up your alley, bestie

[cherrychilli]

18+ Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex

WC: 2.9K

A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!

One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.

It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.

The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.

But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.

"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.

"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.

"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.

Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.

~

That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.

The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.

Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.

"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.

You craved it.

You needed it.

But he doesn't come.

The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.

~

When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.

Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.

The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.

He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.

"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.

"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.

"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.

It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.

He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.

"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.

"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.

His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.

"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.

Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."

You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.

It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.

And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.

"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.

He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.

"Later."

Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.

You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.

Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.

Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.

It just doesn't feel like enough.

With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.

For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.

It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach

Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.

"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."

You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.

Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.

But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.

Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.

“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.

And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".

"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.

You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.

That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.

"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”

He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.

“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.

You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.

At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.

Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.

"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.

~

You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.

His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.

With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.

"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.

You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.

"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.

"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.

"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Once more exorcising spirits or using them like WWX does, doesn't stop them from reincarnation, you all gotta stop this when the only thing that is said is if resurrected WWX doesn't fulfill his "term" HIS primordial soul is forever destroyed based on the usual points of Mo Dao usage that is performed by everyone else that is not Wei Wuxian (i.e. Jin Guangyao, Mo Xuanyu, Xue Yang and Su She).

The nature of this “sacrificial ritual” was a type of curse. The caster was to harm themselves with a weapon, making cuts on their body and using their own blood to draw the array and write the spells within. They would then sit in the center of the circle and give up their mortal body to evil spirits, using the annihilation of their soul as the price to summon a nefarious, malicious ghost. This was all done in order to request the fulfillment of a wish. Thus, it was the opposite of “possession.”

This is the part that I can see confusing others, but, with doaist belief, there are several souls, the human (living one, the three hun and seven po that remain in death). Mo Xunayu did not sacrifice his right of reincarnation just the living one he had at the time, and frankly the one that is cared about in the moment as that is where karma is accrued in order to be judged throughout the circles of Diyu until a soul is purged clean to enter their next reincarnation cycle, samsara. Your karma only follows you based on what you did in your wordly life in consequence and a soul is thusly free to garner further negativity or, better itself to enter the next samsara. When it comes to the Po that stay it can be for any reason, and are liable to rise apart from the "human" as they are only the emotions left at the time of death or, of the "human" daily actions that were strongest. Once the hun souls (these ARE essentially the parts of the person that are essential in spirit and is the primordial existence of that life) are all reunited within Diyu, the human can move on. The Po can still roam the world and why funerary rights and respect are performed and met.

While both were forbidden magics of ill repute, the difference was that the former was much less popular than the latter. After all, few wishes were so strongly desired as to make someone willingly sacrifice everything they had. This was why the technique had been nearly lost after centuries of disuse. The examples recorded in ancient books had only a handful of cases that were backed by reliable evidence, and every single one of them had been for revenge. Every malicious ghost summoned by the ritual had fulfilled the caster’s wishes perfectly, in cruel and bloody ways.

He also did not make anything to do with this ritual or any of the actual mo dao curses (a whole one which we see in book which is the one hundred holes and what it's backlash is for Su Shi using it). What Mo Xuanyu does is also true Mo Dao as it is manipulating the primordial spirit self of another and his human existence. It is a disruption of several Samsara and consequence that will be righted, good or bad for either. Wei Wuxian's cycle just started anew sooner as he was given life again and paid for his karma with his previous death, as reiterated through the novel and himself. Mo Xuanyu has only swapped their places in samsara and death and life.

But the tough thing was, the Sacrificial Ritual followed the will of the caster first and foremost. So it didn’t matter how much he objected… He was already inside this body, which was a silent acknowledgement that both parties had formed a contract. He had to fulfill the wish of the caster, or the curse would rebound, destroying the possessor’s primordial spirit and extinguishing it forever.

Following the rules of karma and Samsara, Mo Xuanyu already gave his place in the human world, he fulfilled his part of the ritual as needed and will eventually reincarnate based on whatever karma he accrued in that life. Wei Wuxian still has to fulfill the wants of that sacrifice before he is free to do as he wants as his primordial humanity is what will be destroyed, the part that always is made to enter Diyu in order to reincarnate.

In all of this, it is not gui dao, as gui dao uses what is already in existence in order to be used with the many Po souls that can arise and still be found in the likes of graves and disturbed places. Po can be disturbed even after years of rest and why you also do not bring negativity into temples, ancestral worship places and areas, or the graves itself. Po being the emotionality left to the world are prone to aggression and can make themselves rise as jiangshi 僵尸, stiff corpse, or as the work calls mutations of them 走尸, zou shi, walking corpse and 凶尸, xiong shi, fierce corpse. None of these retain human characteristics other than the po it relies on that already have existed before Wei Wuxian was present.

I have said this before but I'm expanding on this as it fandom falsely put the onus of this all on Wei Wuxian still for a sacrifice. Or to put the death of Mo Xuanyu, the caster, on Wei Wuxian, who wasn't sure why he had been summoned back to life and was not expecting that. Wei Wuxian had already been dead, nor within that thirteen years he had been, conspired, as what most Mo Dao users do when they break their nascent souls, to eventually revive physically.

In the very first chapter it has already exposed that the moniker of the book is false. The practitioners of Mo Dao are Mo Xuanyu, later Xue Yang, Su She and Jin Guangyao, not Wei Wuxian who we see works in a totally different medium of physical cultivation and meditation that does not warp or manipulate a soul itself to become defiled, the po wandering the human world are not the human soul that are being made into jiangshi. The point of Mo Dao is to corrupt a living soul (the self usually)by evil manipulations.

Wei Wuxian is not, never was, a Mo Dao demonic cultivator, nor was the first as there were centuries of techniques for this, and his crafting of ghosts is falsely defined within the same category. This is also foreshadowed with his argument with Lan Qiren about the exorcism and suppression of ghostly spirits being the only orthodox means of dealing with them, and the lack of understanding orthodox clans approached spirits as a social taboo.

[lagoonalake]

SEVENTEEN IDEAL TYPE PART 2

Part 1 here

DK

Personality: 4 of pentacles, 9 of swords, the lovers

Someone home oriented, strong nurturing vibe, someone who can be a bit stubborn, a bit anxiety prone, I’m hearing the typical mom lol, while he’ll be the funny relaxed dad, relationship oriented, kinda clingy a bit jealous type, a bit feisty, practical, possessive, stable, more predictable, very affectionate and loving, romantic, queen of the house, the boss at home cancer, leo, taurus, virgo

Appearance: 3 of cups, 6 of wands, strength

Another air sign, another one for who looks aren’t too important! XD it’s more about the connection, and that this person he is with is nice and friendly, that being said, he likes someone who looks strong, confident, may like red hair, or the color red, orange, warm colors, shorter, curvier types that are a bit feisty, big hair, strong shapely legs leo, sagittarius, aquarius

Turn offs: knight of swords, 10 of wands, justice

People who are too energetic, impulsive, always on the move, cold and calculating, unfeeling and overly rational or detached, people who are “exhausting”, too talkative or are party poopers, always spreading negative energy around them negative aries, aquarius, gemini, saturn

MINGYU

Personality: ace of cups, 9 of swords, queen of swords

Charming, intelligent people, elegant, sophisticated, rational, well spoken, balanced people, icy exterior, plays hard to get and has this cold aura but is actually sensitive, someone who he’d managed to tease and get a reaction from even if they are usually so well behaved and in control, a thinker, strategist, possibly tends to be attracted to people who are depressed that he can cheer up, someone with a sense of humor, witty libra, air signs, virgo, saturn, venus

Appearance: the lovers, ace of swords, the hanged man

Romantic looking, like the typical romantic lead in a movie/drama, classic timeless beauty, harmonious features, long straight hair, lighter colors, princess vibes, slim shapely body, hourglass figure, feminine, well designed bone structure, clear voice, beautiful well kept hands, soft clear skin libra, capricorn, venus, neptune

Turn offs: 8 of cups, 9 of wands, knight of cups

Someone outside of his environment or usual circle, someone who makes the first step, makes it easy for him, or pines over him (he wants to be the chaser), someone who looks unhealthy or doesn’t take care of themselves (like Joshua, looks are important for him and he thinks he is handsome so he only accept people who he’d consider as beautiful as him, conventionally good looking), someone who is kinda detached from celebrity lifestyle and would think of it as shallow or unimportant scorpio, aquarius, sagittarius, pluto

THE8

Personality: 10 of swords, 9 of cups, the magician

Someone who has gone through a lot, very intelligent and knowledgeable, someone who despite their hardships is positive and calm, chill, mature, motherly vibes, hippie vibes, someone sensual, the sexual bond is important, someone with a sense of humor, good with words, healing presence, independent and resourceful, probably older than him or with a lot of life experience, generous aquarius, scorpio, cancer, jupiter

Appearance: 3 of cups, 10 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles

Another one who doesn’t care much about looks, mostly that this person is reliable and that physically they “are not too mismatched”, so maybe similar build to him, looks etc… likes a nurturing vibes with a steady reassuring presence, deeper voice, darker warm brownish colors capricorn, cancer, taurus

Turn off: 2 of pentacles, 5 of wands, ace of swords

Conditional love, for some reason he wants someone who can gives love unconditionally without ever expecting anything in return (I’m getting a bit of an imbalance here though, like he expect the person to give all the time), argumentative people, cold detached overly practical people, people who are too stubborn, people who bring up things that he doesn’t want to hear libra, virgo, capricorn, aries

SEUNGKWAN

Personality: judgement, the magician, 8 of cups

I feel like he wants a savior, someone who can help him make a sort of transition in his life, someone very positive with very intense decisive energy who can help him turn things around, someone outside of the industry, intelligent and who can make things happen, strong and independent, positive and with a light hearted yet intense energy, witty, excellent communicator, a way with words, healing words, charismatic, funny, good sense of humor gemini, scorpio, pluto, mercury

Appearance: page of cups, 9 of cups, the magician

Someone with a big smile, kind, happy looking, round youthful face, friendly and approachable, short hair, possibly darker skin, cute and cuddly, “huggable”, someone with an expressive face who can look a bit mischievous mercury, gemini, sagittarius, jupiter, leo

Turn offs: 3 of swords, 9 of wands, 8 of pentacles

Depressed, sad, negative people, people who are on the defensive, always looking for a fight, pessimism, workoholics, people who complain all the time, people who are false, untrustworthy and backstabby negative scorpio, aries, capricorn

VERNON

Personality: 2 of swords, 2 of wands, the devil

People who are a bit confusing lol, who make him wait, with strong sexual magnetism, sexy, sensual, passionate, people who are relationship oriented, people who are more balanced when making a decision, who think before acting, intelligent , open minded, is attracted to a bit of danger or a challenge scorpio, libra, pisces

Appearance: knight of swords, the tower, wheel of fortune

Lean, tall, dramatic appearance, striking, expressive, sharp features, defined musculature, someone who stands out even if they are not conventionally beautiful, androgynous style and features, can be attracted to people of all ethnicities, likes diversity, dark skin, short hair, could like a good dancer, street style, modern looking, city vibes, dark colors, rocker style aquarius, uranus, aries, sagittarius

Turn offs: 6 of swords, 5 of wands, the hierophant

Someone seemingly too easy going or calm, someone who forces him to do something (he hates being told what to do or being advised lol), someone overly argumentative, stubborn, narrow minded, overly traditional, boring, predictable, someone who looks or acts like everyone else or the way it’s expected to, someone who cares too much about their image taurus, virgo, libra, cancer

DINO

Personality: the emperor, 4 of wands, page of coins

Someone with leadership qualities, who can take charge of the relationship, strong and rational, with a good head on their shoulders, protective, independent, someone he would respect, someone marriage material interested in building something cozy and stable that would last, someone trustworthy and honest, charismatic, with authority, fun-loving, who likes to have a good time, responsible yet knows how to relax, happy, who can enjoy life to the fullest, enterprising and positive leo, aries, libra, taurus

Appearance: page of coins, page of swords, the hermit

Fresh, natural beauty, roundish face, small features, petite compact body, expressive intelligent eyes, cat face, more light colors, white, light blue, clean, simple aesthetic mercury, aquarius, gemini, virgo

Turn offs: 10 of swords, death, strength

Someone messy, whose life is in shambles, someone who always seems to be in survival or crisis mode, overly intense or emotional people, people who have a bunch of issues, health issues, family issues (he doesn’t want any extra baggage lol), people who struggle all the time scorpio, pluto, uranus, mars

[whumpback-wail]

07 - Decrescendo

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader)

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IMPORTANT NOTICE: Reminder that this fanfic contains dark and mature themes. The TW/CW are in the masterlist and are constantly updated as I add each chapter. Please reread the warnings, proceed only after you reread the warnings. If you don't like/can't handle the topics mentioned in the TW/CW, please DO NOT read. This work is 100000% fictional and any similarities to real life people and events are purely coincidental, and none of the characters (especially the villains) are real. Again, please DO NOT read if you are not certain you can handle these topics or are in a bad place mentally. Minors are strictly forbidden. I only create content, and I am not responsible for your personal content preference and moderation. If you think you will not like this story, please just scroll away. You have been warned.

Wriothesley didn’t know how long he sat there watching her sleep, silent tears long since dried out. He couldn’t imagine the trauma that (y/n) must have gone through. She’s really strong, although he wished she didn’t need to be.

A knock sounded at the door, and Neuvilette stepped inside.Wriothesley turned his head around and nodded in greeting, not caring about how he looked with puffy red eyes and tear stains on his face.

“How is she?” The Iudex placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulders.

Wriothesley scoffed, rubbing his nose, “Terrible. We both are.”

Neuvilette nodded, understanding.

“Dougier spilled once we brought in Chlorinde.” At the mention of Dougier’s name, Wriothesley bristled, hands clenching on his thigh.

“She hasn’t even touched him. Wriothesley, we found Arderne’s location.”

“Where?” Wriothesley was on his feet in an instant.

Neuvilette hesitated.

“I… I only came here to tell you that, since you deserve to know the update, but in your current condition, I’m afraid you have to sit this one out.”

Wriothesley couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “What? Why?”

“I am doing this for your sake, Wriothesley. I know that look in your eyes right before you pounced on Dougier. You were going to kill him right there.”

Wriothesley grumbled. As much as he hated it, Neuvilette was right.

“I mean he’ll be dead once he gets sent back to Meropide.” The raven haired Duke sat back down, feeling defeated. He also knew he was acting rashly when he straight up decked Dougier, but that was as if his body moved on its own. That yet again proved Neuvilette’s point. Well fuck.

“But until then, we will have to follow Fontaine’s laws. You know that better than anyone.” 

Sighing, he could only quietly agree with the Iudex. He kept his eyes on (y/n)’s sleeping form as Neuvilette excused himself and left.

Part of him was frustrated, he wanted to do something, anything, to help with the case, especially at such a vital moment. But he also knew he probably wouldn’t be able to hold back once he got his hands on Arderne. If he were alone, he would risk it and he wouldn’t care about serving another sentence in Meropide. But he has (y/n) now, and he didn’t want to leave her behind

Rubbing his nose, he got up to splash some water onto his face. He has to stay strong for her, for them.

Once all traces of tears were gone, he came back to her side, leaving a kiss on her forehead, a silent promise that he would still love and cherish her through thick and thin.

“I’ll be back, my love. I won’t be long.”

Wriothesley needed to clear his head, and he knew exactly what to do. He exited (y/n)’s room and thanked the two men guarding his fiancee, he took a mental note to give Navia a hefty reward to distribute among her men later. They have been a great and reliable help.

Going back down to Meropide, he went straight towards the pankration ring arena, where there are always some boxing targets for him to use. It has been quite a while since he last came here to let off some steam.

After a quick warm up, he let his mind go blank and proceeded to strike the targets. Each punch he threw using a hundred percent of his power, putting in as much body weight into it as possible to make the blows harder. Wriothesley was in a world of his own, head empty and mind solely focused on the target before him, not caring about the eyes of inmates who watched their Duke exercise.

• • •

“So… I heard that it shouldn’t be too painful?” Wriothesley rubbed (y/n)’s shoulders comfortingly. They are at the abortion center of the hospital, awaiting the doctor to prescribe (y/n) the medicine that she would have to take.

“Nope, since the pregnancy is under 5 weeks, we can do it by medication.”

(y/n) swallowed, and gave Wriothesley’s hand a little squeeze. “Will it… Will it hurt the foetus?” As much as she hated Dougier, the experiments, and everything she was forced to go through, the foetus growing inside her, no matter the source, is still innocent.

The doctor smiled and shook her head. “This pill was specially developed in Monstadt by the famous alchemist Albedo, and his assistant, Sucrose, who had used her anemo vision to enhance it even further. It will be completely painless for the foetus and the mother. Besides, the foetus has not developed to the stage where it can feel pain.”

(y/n) nodded, feeling more reassured.

“So now all (y/n) has to do is just take the pills twice a day for 3 days and it should be all good?”

“Yes, it should remove everything from inside her womb. She might feel a bit drowsy as a side effect, but it will not be painful.”

“I will. Thank you so much, doctor.”

• • •

“According to the judgement of the Oratrice Mecanique D’analyse Cardinale, Dougier and Arderne, you are deemed… Guilty.” Neuvilette’s voice seemed to echo through the Opera Epiclese, reverberating through the (y/n)’s chest.

It’s over.

“You have been sentenced to 60 years in the Fortress of Meropide, and you will have to fulfil your duties there, under the command of the Duke of Meropide, Wriothesley.

(y/n)’s eyes darted to Wriothesley, who stood under the balcony of the defendant, where she sat. She didn’t need to see his expression to know how satisfied he looked, it was reflected on the faces of Arderne and Dougier, the two main perpetrators of the facility. They stood on the balcony opposite her’s and their faces were pale as ghosts.

“B-but…” Arderne reasoned, wincing pitifully as his small movement jostled his broken leg, still wrapped in a cast. “But Iudex, surely we will be granted protection once we are back in Meropide-”

“I hate to break it to you,” Wriothesley stepped forward slowly, eyes flashing with a sadistic glint, “But the Fortress of Meropide is not under Fontaine’s Jurisdiction.” He has waited a long time for this.

Neuvilette nodded, repressing the urge to smile, “The Duke is right. The Fortress of Meropide has its own laws and systems, and anyone who has to serve a sentence there is not under the protection of Fontaine’s laws. I suggest you be on your best behaviour while you’re there serving… for the rest of your lives, it may seem.”

A giggle sounded from the back of the room. Furina, from her own balcony as the Archon, clapped her hands. “Bravo! Bravo! What a lovely finale to perhaps the most intense trial in the history of Fontaine! You two certainly broke the record for longest sentence ever given by the Oratrice. So in a way, congratulations!”

Neuvilette knocked his cane on the floor three times, “Lady Furina, if I may conclude the trial-”

“Oh let me do it!” Furina cleared her throat, and with an intonation almost perfectly mimicking Neuvilette, she said “And with that, this trial has concluded. Guards, take them away!”

It felt like a huge weight has lifted off (y/n’s) chest. She felt all the intense feelings she had just moments earlier melt away into misty grey numbness.

It’s over. Everything that happened could just be a bad memory now.

She took a shaky breath and looked downwards to seek her fiance, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for someone?” His voice appeared from behind her, as hands snaked around her waist.

“Wriothesley,” (y/n) turned around and hugged him, letting him catch her full weight as her legs turned to jello and gave up. “It’s over. It’s really over huh?”

Wriothesley kissed her cheeks, damp with tears, “Yeah, sorry you had to revisit old wounds, I know you want to forget everything, and keep the things that happened to you to as few people as possible. I hope not opening the trial to the public helped.”

(y/n) shook her head, “honestly, not really. But it was necessary, I know.”

During the trial, (y/n) had to be escorted out of the room a few times as she was starting to hyperventilate. Her therapist was there, always right by her side. It was unfortunate that Wriothesley had to stand below her balcony, joining the rest of the witnesses to this case. She would have felt better to have him right beside her.

She sniffed, wiping the remnants of her tears from her face. “Can… Can we go home now?”

Smiling, Wriothesley swept her off her feet and into his arms in a princess carry. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Walking out of the Opera Epiclese, (y/n) held onto Wriothesley tightly, burying her face into his neck. “So…”

“So…?”

“So what now?”

Wriothesley hummed, and (y/n) could feel the vibrations from his chest, “I suppose you have another therapy session tomorrow, so I’ll take you back to the hospital. But hey, at least now that you’re discharged, you don’t have to sleep there anymore.”

(y/n) smiled, “Yeah, I’ll be sleeping in our home, with you.”

“And we’ll do our absolute best to make things go back to normal, well… As normal as it gets anyway.”

She looked up at her fiance, who has been by her side through the worst of times, and still stayed despite how she had pushed him away in fear. She felt another feeling replace the numbness in her heart. Love.

Lifting her hand, she caressed Wriothesley’s cheek, and gently turned his head to face her. His footsteps faltered and his eyes closed automatically the moment he felt her press her lips against his.

Once they broke apart, (y/n)’s world was filled by the brilliance of the grin that stretched across Wriothesley’s face, “Well that was our first kiss after a very long while.”

Embarrassed, (y/n) buried her face into his neck again. Her ears tinged red, giving away the flush that had bloomed across her cheeks. “I just felt like doing that.”

Wriothesley chuckled, and continued walking, but this time he changed directions and went to the side of the road. He sat (y/n) down on short the stone walls that fenced the clean brick roads, and picked a rainbow tulip nearby.

“(y/n), love, I know I’ve done this before, and you’ve already said yes, but I think I need to do this again.” He got on knee, and fished inside his jacket pocket, taking out a ring that matched the one on his finger.

“(y/n), we have been through a lot these past months. The road was rough and the skies were dark. But even so, we pulled through together. You were so strong having overcome everything, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You voiced out your concerns at your lowest point, and I wanted to reassure you again to make sure you never have such thoughts ever again. I love you so much, and I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. (y/n full name), Will you marry me?”

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{{(＞＜)}       ☆ ～('▽^人)

Well that de-escalated quickly, I honestly was stuck and didn't know what to write after the previous chapter because I wrote the entire fic only for chapter 5 and 6, it was pure self indulgence that somehow blew up here on Tumblr. After that usually the ‘scenario I play in my head to fall asleep’ ends and I’m already asleep. So I think the next chapter would be the epilogue, to wrap everything up neatly (and emotionally). I will also post the originally planned plot of Trial by Fire after that, because I think you guys deserve to know it (frankly I think it’s much better than this blurb, and much longer).

Though I think this chapter could be better, heck this fic could be better in general. If it were more detailed and longer with better descriptions and scenes to show (y/n)’s recovery from the incident. Something more show than tell. But since the beginning, I did tell myself I will keep it short, since writing does take a lot of time and energy, and with the amount of work I have as an illustrator, it looks almost impossible. So perhaps my next work would be one-shots or just 3 chapters max. It definitely won’t be as long (but will be as angsty with hurt/comfort heheheheheh)

Now I’m a little curious. How do you fall asleep? Do you think of all sorts of scenarios or keep your mind blank? Or just scroll on your phone until you fall asleep? For me, it’s usually  angst and hurt/comfort scenarios with my favourite characters. Some could be self-inserted, others not really. Not sure why that works best for me, but if it works, it works.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story so far! If anyone wants to rewrite this to your own version, you can contact me, and please credit this fic when you publish yours. I’d love to read what you come up with!

Last but not least, thank you so much for reading! I hope you all stay safe and healthy, and I hope you have a wonderful year this 2024! Cheers!

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr @chifuyus-kitty @bunnibabe @the-real-fandom-person @idawnghoul @kitsunechan707

[kifkay]

Specialists and their Dragons

this is a part two of this post, where I expand on Specialists' dragons and their role in their lives!!

Sky:

all dragons are given "fancier" names at their birth, issued by the clerics stationed in Red Fountain. Sky's dragon is named Merciful Wraith of Pre-Dawn Blizzard, the second.

for obvious reasons, riders are allowed to pick "nicknames" for their dragons.

hers is Pearl, given to her for her snow-white scales.

she is a calm-mannered, small dragon, who is as quick as lightning.

Sky worries too much to ride her into open battle, but he flies with her for leasure and recon often.

Pearl loves diving in rivers - one of the only times when she becomes animated and playful - and has a bad habit of dragging Sky down with her. the girl just gets so excited when she sees a body of water!

Sky resorts to just jumping out of his saddle when she spots any river, and hoping for only a slightly-traumatic landing.

Pearl loooves Bloom (most dragons do), is playfully antagonistic towards Brandon (headbutts him and lightly nibbs on his arm) and shy around Helia. She is very spoilt by Sky and uses that to her advantage often.

despite her calm demeanor, she is still a dragon and will rip heads off - has done so in fact, to protect her rider.

Riven:

Riven's dragon is a BIG BOI, much larger than average dragons. He has a dusty pelt and scar-laden skin, accumulated over the long years of his life.

the name was Death’s Harbinger and he was easily the most aggressive/mistrustful of all dragons. even Codatorta, the most skilful rider of Red Fountain, could reliably control the great dragon half the time.

Riven looked into Harbinger’s big, milky, sad eyes and went all lifetime movie - horse girl - “I can tame him” on the poor dude.

after a long routine of slowly earning his trust, then getting adjusted to each other, Riven bonded with Fang - Harbinger’s new nickname.

Fang is a traumatised old dragon, whose size and temperament should be accounted for at all times - but he is also a huge grump. if Fang wants to nap, he’ll lay down on a sun-heated rock and won’t move for the next four hours.

Fang is also territorial over his rider and will puff smoke at Riven - to make him retain his scent, and therefore his mark of protection. Riven is very annoyed, because he doesn’t like smelling like wet dragon all of the time.

to both Riven and Sky’s chagrin… Pearl and Fang love each other.

Fang does add +171627282 points to Riven’s intimidation factor.

Brandon:

Brandon gave up his right to ride his dragon, since he didn’t pursue dragon-riding lessons beyond a school-mandated course

the reason he didn’t is because his team already had two dragon riders - Riven and Sky - and Brandon wanted the team to be well-rounded.

but Brandon loved the freedom of flying and loved his dragon Synrise (ex the Scorching Might of Twin Suns). it was heartbreaking for him.

Synrise is a beauty among dragons, with a golden shimmer to her peach-coloured scales and expressive brown eyes. Usually, she was a well-behaved younging, but she certainly gave Brandon hell.

Synrise hated getting mud or grime on herself and would actively misbehave to avoid that, didn’t like staying in the barracks with the other dragons, and was a horrifyingly picky eater.

Although she liked Stella, Synrise would always get overly excited and play too roughly with the fairy.

both the dragon and Brandon loveeed flying together, though, going high and performing tricks.

her and Pearl got along fine, but Synrise is deathly afraid of Fang.

once Brandon stopped riding her, she would refuse to even look at him when he would come for visits.

but she would leave him little tokens afterwards, on his balcony - usually in the form of dead dears, stolen motorbikes or tree trunks.

Helia:

since Dream died, Helia hasn’t ridden any other dragon.

Dream was picked as an egg by Saladin, and raised by the older wizard’s hands. Saladin promised his grandson that Dream (then, Regal Legacy) would be his upon Helia’s enrolment to the Red Fountain.

Dream’s scales were a gradient of red and black, carefully maintained and shiny. He was both decently strong and fast, and had a slim, black tail.

Dream was obedient and stoic, a dutiful shadow behind its rider. he rarely betrayed a command, and only when needed to ensure their survival.

Dream was also… shy! he loved to nuzzle into Helia’s chest, or drab his tail over the young man’s legs, but only if they were alone and Helia was the first to initiate contact. he napped the best when Helia curled around him.

Helia, at the time, was obsessed with self-perfection and training, exhausting himself beyond limits. Dream, who always responded to his emotions deeply, took after his rider. He too, grew restless and weak.

Helia knows that it was his fault Dream was killed - the dragon was much too exhausted, to fight through a haze of monsters on a mission Helia led. If not for his own destructive habits, Dream might’ve been alive and well, scouring through skylines. as it stood now, he didn’t even have a body to bury.

one of the only keepsakes Helia retained is Dream’s scales. He always carries one in his pocket. A reminder.

from smallest to biggest: Pearl -> Dream -> Synrise -> Fang

[princessjojo-x]

Taurus Mars

💝 he’s innately a tranquil & grounded individual. his natural ability to remain patient & quiet evokes mixed reactions from others. some perceive him as pleasant, comforting & reliable. others read him as apathetic, intimidating & dispassionate. stillness is so engrained in him that any other reaction during distress feels superficial to him.

💝 he retains a very long fuse & most things don’t faze him. if anyone irritates him he’ll keep it classy & keep a distance. it takes a great deal to push him to retaliation due to his tolerant & stoical nature. he resists in indulging in displays of volatilities due to his preference of peace & his desire for stability.

💝 however, this doesn’t imply his anger is weakened whatsoever. he automatically suppresses his anger inside his body & allows it to ferment for years. wherever taurus falls in your chart highlights the parts of yourself that move at a slower pace & the things you have a harder time letting go of. therefore, when taurus falls into mars it produces a man who is tremendously slow to anger BUT even slower to let go of anger.

💝 perhaps this explains why abuse is almost always assigned to the taurus-scorpio axis & many abusive public figures happen to have a taurus mars (adulf hitler, osama ben ladin, michael jackson, jimmy savile & so on). mars doesn’t operate at its best capability when in taurus & mars becomes unmoving when in taurus. therefore, he struggles to find viable ways of channeling his slow burn energy. this can manifest as him eventually expressing his martian energy in a bad way (rape, violence, homicide).

💝 despite him being one of the least abrasive & aggressive signs, his relentless persistence makes him a formidable opponent. he approaches conflict with a slow & steady strategy, rather than quick & aggressive motions. his diligent & methodical approach ensures a carefully planned retaliation. although others are the ones to start fights with him, he is always the one to finish the fights. he excels at outlasting his opponents & he has very poor conflict resolution. he holds onto things & won’t let them go, to avoid losing control of protecting itself.

💝 he may move through life quite slowly bc he finds comfort in taking his time. he likely had to work harder than most in regards to education & career since he’s such a slow learner/starter. he adopts the steady, calculative & enduring pace of mother earth. he exhibits a measured & persistent pace instead of hurried & impulsive actions. nobody ever needs to remind him to think things through bc that's his default move. he always assesses the situation carefully before taking action. he possesses a good sense of forethought & thinking before action, with the ability to tune in to not-so-seen aspects in individuals & situations. however, he lacks the ability to take swift & decisive action, which leads to plenty of procrastination, missed opportunities & stagnation. some may perceive him as lethargic & attempt to pressure him to move at their pace but he will stubbornly dig his heals into the ground. offering him external motivation or the possibility of an award can help encourage him. he’s extremely selective in his pursuits & he’s willing to wait. he will impose action only when he is ready, not when he is told. the plan has to be in order before hand, the resources must already be accumulated & a strong foundation must already be built. his motto is “slow & steady wins the race”. despite being slow to start & doing a lot of growndwork before hand, once the wheels start turning, he will see things through to the end & it’s actually hard to make him stop. when he makes a decision, best believe it’s final & he won’t budge without good reason. he can easily slip into a "point of no return" mentality so its important he leaves room for a change of plans. despite not being fast or adaptable, he holds immense perseverance & strength. he resembles a rock standing still even when a tsunami comes. his resilience, patience, commitment, stamina & consistency are his biggest strengths. he puts so much time/effort into the process that failure completely devastates him!

💝 he often enforces rules & repercussions so he’s labelled as controlling. when others get close to him, they assume they're immune to these expectations & get comfortable breaking his rules. but it’s shaking up his comfort that makes them his enemy. others don't even realise or give him enough credit for how much patience & leniency he gives before he eventually puts his foot down.

💝 since taurus is detriment in mars, issues with self-worth & self-destruction may be a side-effect for him. he may take on todays encounters with repressed & recycled memories which are decades old. despite him seeming calm on the outside, his old wounds are freshly bleeding & his invisible scars can inflame at any moment. sometimes his resentment flows with such volatility & unpredictability that you wonder if it will ever stop or where it came from. it may express itself as harbouring self-contempt for his choices, his life, his body, or everything at once. its a poisonous self-hatred, self-punishment, self-denial, self-malignant or a lack of conviction that he deserves anything worthwhile. he may self-destruct by over-consuming pleasure until it becomes poison or giving into impulsive urges that promise short-term relief at the cost of long term comfort (spending his rent money, drinking until he’s physically ill, etc). however, he may self-destruct via the opposite route, by severely self-restricting in order change something within himself or punish himself further after failure (compulsive measuring of every dose, forcing harsh lifestyle regimes on himself). however, he has tremendous stoicism & prefers to keep his worries to himself. he is the strong & silent type, constantly enduring his deepest struggles completely alone.

💝 when he’s attracted to someone he’ll take his time to get to know her. it may take him awhile to come around but once he does, he’s easy & simple to read, meaning she’ll never be left confused or have to question where she stands with him.

💝 amongst all the mars signs, he is definitely the most sensual. however, in many cases to finally liberate this side of him, it took many inner battles & heroic victories, that became stories he has never spoken about.

💝 he has a ravenous sexual appetite & indulges in intimacy as a comfort measure. a positive & ongoing sex life is very important to him. if his sexual needs aren’t fulfilled his overall mindset will be negative, withdrawn & stubborn. to him, sex is like breathing air, he can’t live without it. he’s very comfortable with his body & his sexual desires. sex could potentially become his dirty little secret, which develops into him living a double life. he believes good sex equals a good rxship. consequently, his rxships are highly based on sexual & intimate compatibility. however, he still has a strong need to pleasure himself even in committed rxships (taurus is all abt self-reliance & self-sustainment).

💝 all earth signs mars have a natural tendency to separate love & sex but taurus mars is most prone to this. he tends to have difficulty abstaining from sex so if there’s no one in his life who matters to him, he is still going to look for sexual partners. sexual involvement with him does not necessarily mean that a rxship with him is underway. in this sense, more gentle types could find him too careless & direct.

💝 the sex with him will be slow & prolonged. he is patient & slow to turn on, like an oven instead of a microwave. his sexual stamina is long-lasting & steady, usually taking awhile to reach climax. he has a pretty good notion abt what it takes to bring pleasure to others since he’s so in tune with his senses. however, he can be lazy in bed, expecting her to do most of the work.

Turn On’s & Off’s:

💝 he craves a full sensory experience - whether it’s the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, or the intoxicating scent of her presence. therefore, attempt to please his senses: touch, smell, hearing & taste. this can be achieved through blindfolds, candles, feathers, warmth, silk sheets, sensual sounds, etc.

💝 physical touch is especially important to him: massages, foot rubs, tender kisses, cuddles, stroking, caressing & body worship. if you deny him affection or sex for too long he will be offended asf.

💝 remember… his neck is his erogenous zone! kiss & squeeze his neck. talk into his neck. gifts him a necklace.

💝 he enjoys lovemaking on a full stomach or involving food in the bedroom (whipped cream).

💝 he’s attracted to earthy types who are stable & patient. ensure to match his calm energy & steady pace. if you‘re going to be rough or surprising ensure it’s gradual & prepare him first.

💝 typically, he’s physically attracted to older or dominant women with dark features & curvy bodies.

💝 he has a hunger to devour & be devoured.

💝 arrive baring gifts & kind words.

💝 he maybe into bum play, gigolo roleplay & mutual oral.

💝 all earth signs mars want to be comfortable with you before they sleep with you.

💝 he dislikes his lover failing to show appreciation, being incompetent & criticising him.

💝 a dirty bedroom or lack of after care can ruin the experience for him too.

💝 people who complain a lot & don’t appreciate the small simple things, people who tell them what to do, being rushed, passive aggressiveness, bad manners, disloyalty, sneakiness, bragging, lying.

Compatibility:

[mslanna]

Can I ask for Raphael having a 'Wait, why am I jealous?' realization of his romantic feelings for Tav? (For the record, Tav is romantically interested in him, too, because I can't handle angst right now 🥲)

Ask and you shall receive. 🥰

Served Cold

(Served Cold on AO3) enby Tav without body configuration cold and comfort hot devil is hot Karlach cameo

Conquering all nine hells was a lot of work for one devil. Even with his armies and followers, Raphael had few subordinates he trusted. So asking Tav to join had been only logical. After all, they had delivered the Crown of Karsus to him willingly.

He had been right, too, as Tav greed easily to his request. They helped him conquer the hells and he, well, there was a certain uncertainty about his part of the deal. Just make sure I don't die seemed like a sensible request. It was not much of a prize, though. The exchange seemed barely equal.

But he wouldn't look a gift Tav in the mouth. It was also to be expected that Tav would enlist the help of their friends. The tiefling should not have been a surprise, especially since she could not return to the material plane with her hellfire heart.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his human to get the job done, despite the biting cold of Cania and the wide icy plains. But this was his father's domain. Mephistopheles knew he was coming for him and his security was increased.

Tav was smart for taking the circumspect route to his palace even if that meant several weeks of trekking through the cold. The entrance wasn't secret as much as unexpected. A place as big as Mephistopheles court had a whole system of venues to accept or remove wares and services. A place as old as his father's had also gone through several system changes. Dead ends happened.

And Tav knew how to talk to servants and debtors. As a paladin they exuded and air of trustworthiness. The time they spent undercover in his father's realm had not gone by easily. Raphael had worried every day. So much of his plans rested on Tav's success.

But they succeed as he knew they would. Tav was reliable, more so than many of his subordinates. Subordinates who were making a lot of noise under the command of Yurgir right now. Mainly to keep Mephistopheles attention on them and allow the small group to slip in through a discarded and ignored back entrance that should have been decommissioned and closed centuries ago.

Raphael considered standing with the armies. But the prospect of seeing the expression on his father's face when he turned up in the centre of his secure home was a strong argument for travelling with Tav.

He was accustomed to the burning cold of Cania. The storms of blade-like winds and freezing snow were inconvenient but manageable. The tiefling was doing fine with her hellfire heart as well. It kept her warm under the layers upon layers of clothes.

Tav on the other hand suffered miserably. It didn't matter how many layers they put on, the result was a shivering heap of furs that moved slowly through the cold landscape. The view was pitiful, but Tav didn't complain once. Their dedication to his cause was admirable. And when nobody watched, not even his own inner devil, Raphael allowed himself to admire them.

Not now, of course, as the human sat huddled up like a shrimp at the small fire. They shook violently and stuck their hands almost into the flames. If he didn't know better, Raphael would have thought them a blemish, worth no note. His thought were of a very different nature though.

There had to be a way to help Tav. It was not the most devil-like thought but it was well founded. Tav was a valuable asset, a tool well worth protecting. It was only natural that he considered his options to keep them at peak performance.

The problem was how to get warmth to his mouse without attracting attention. A bigger fire was out of the question. That left very limited options. But, for the success of his campaign, he was willing to make sacrifices. Even personal ones.

He was still mulling over the best way to phrase his idea so it would not appear to be personal, when Karlach moved. She rounded the fire and came to sit next to Tav, worry engraved on her face.

"You'll catch your death, soldier." The tiefling nudged Tav who moved towards her unthinking. Drawn to the warmth, no doubt. "Yeah, that's more like it. Gods, you're cold."

Despite her words, Karlach wrapped Tav into their cloak. And his little mouse, leant into it. Raphael took a deep breath. The way Tav softened and their body slowly ceased to shudder. It was a good thing. There was no reason for him to be mad about it.

Yet the anger simmered in his stomach, bitter and bubbling. That had been his offer to make. A sacrifice for the greater good. Yet the tiefling offered it as if it was nothing, a small act of friendship and care. He should be grateful for that. His dignity stayed intact.

But his dignity was not rumbling dangerously low in his chest. To think that it could have been his arm around Tav's shoulders, his arm they leant against, grateful and content. The fury surprised him, as did the pain. What did it matter who kept Tav warm?

But it did matter, and it mattered that it wasn't him. Raphael carefully avoided putting a name on the rage. The last thing he needed now was complications. The fight against his father was difficult enough without worrying – uselessly – about one fragile mortal.

It was not worry he felt, looking at Tav who dozed off in the sudden warmth. Trenches dug by the cold over the last days softened. Their mouth relaxed and opened slightly. They looked at peace. Peace he should be giving them.

"If it proves too much of a strain on your infernal engine, let me know." Raphael was proud of the nonchalance of his tone. "I am willing to carry my share of the burden."

"Tav is never a burden." Despite her cheery tone, the threat in Karlach's voice was clear. "And I'd rather freeze to death with them than burden you with them."

Raphael sat back. "If this is how you treat offers of help-"

"If you want to offer help, offer help. Don’t style yourself as a martyr for the most minuscule act of decency."

Looking at his little mouse – eyes closed, breath soft and regular – Raphael wondered if they were indeed asleep. What would Tav think, listening in on this conversation? And what did it matter to him? He was a devil! He did not care what mortals though of him.

Except for Tav.

The realisation was uncomfortable and unwanted. It was true nevertheless.

"Don't mind him," Tav murmured, adjusting their position against the tiefling. "He's just jealous."

Jealous. The word stunned Raphael. He was not jealous. He was a devil! He stared at the lips that uttered such blasphemy. Lips that were once again of a soft pink instead of pale blue. He had a pretty good idea what he'd like to do to them, traitorous, insolent lips.

Unfortunately, his ideas supported Tav's claim. Ridiculous. They were an asset. A tool for his victory. Nothing more.

Yet.

"Well." Karlach pulled Tav closer. "Even jealous devils have to behave themselves. Maybe a 'please' wouldn't go amiss."

"If you think I will beg, you are severely mistaken," Raphael huffed and folded his wings closer around him.

"Do as you please. But I don't think Tav is a burden and I know how it feels to have them breathe down my skin when they sleep – and drool a little." The tiefling dropped a sloppy kiss onto Tav's forehead.

"Devils are not to be drooled upon."

"I'm sure you can make them lick it off again." The tiefling delighted in teasing him.

Still Raphael could not deny the appeal of the vision her words conjured. "Oh, hand them over already." He gestured impatiently.

To his surprise the tiefling actually obeyed. "You know I will kill you, if you hurt them," she smiled as she draped the mortal against his side.

Raphael snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

"I don't," Tav murmured and turned to press their face into his arm.

A surprisingly efficient argument. Raphael dragged his little mouse into a comfortable position, resting their head against his chest and wrapping them both in his wings. At least tiefling couldn't see his face any longer that way.

"You are mine," he murmured into Tav's rear. "Mine alone and don't you forget it."

"Jealous," they replied sleepy, but with a smile touching their lips. "I like it."

Raphael growled and dropped kiss onto their head as he had seen Karlach do. What an insolent little creature he held. It would be impossible to pry them from his grip.

[grapejuicestyless]

Endless Empathy(People Pleaser pt.2)

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: A continuation of the People pleaser short writing that is both linked in my master list on my page and on the top of this part!!! This Can be Read separately!

Angst to fluffy(kinda!)

Read part 1 here!

If you asked Y/n Y/l/n what her favorite feeling in the world was, it wouldn’t even be a second thought as to what her answer would be. It was so obvious to everyone who was lucky enough to be consistently surrounded by her energy. Y/n loved love.

It wasn’t necessarily the feeling of being loved. The girl, as much as she had drifted off into daydreams, fantasizing about her silky white wedding dress and her ideal bridesmaids, her desire for the feeling of love cut much deeper.

It was the knowing feeling that she could give back to someone who needed it. The fuzziness she gained every time she could provide a sense of reliability to someone close to her. The idea she was able to earn their trust because they were just that close made her feel less alone on the nights she spent across the world from her home.

Y/n loved that feeling. The way it would spread from her chest and expand into the pit of her stomach, making it all fluttery and warm. So much so, she found herself altering herself to fit the impossible standards she held herself to.

She found herself doing things she really had no desire to, her passive aggressiveness only grumbling through her lips when she was sure enough she was alone, out of ear shot. Quickly, her lack of want would be overtaken by that euphoria she felt again, the intense sense of happiness making up for her discomfort she subjected herself to.

From afar, it looked like an addiction. The girl constantly itching to do good, to be better. To be the best version of herself in order to lift those up around her, to make everyone proud of her. She wanted people to not feel ashamed when her name came up in conversation. An addiction so bad, the girls need for approval and longing to please everyone at once, her body often moved before her mouth could catch up. Her mind could be screaming no, but she would already have said yes.

It’s not like it had a cure. How can you cure a pathological people pleaser? You can dote on them and smother them as much as you want. Do anything they need, go out of your way to make their life easier, but ultimately your effort will only make it worse. Devoting your time to someone who doesn’t want it in that way. They begin to feel like a chore, an inconvenience that they need to make up for. And the cycle begins again.

——————————————————————————

A burden is often what I felt like these days. Feet swung over the arm of the couch, head pressed back on the cushion that was Harry’s lap. His hands brushed between my hair, which had been stuck on my forehead in an intense sweat that I had broken into while rehearsing for our upcoming show in Cardiff.

We’d only reached As It Was by the time Harry decided it was time for us to conclude our soundcheck.

It was confusing, the way he said it. Almost like it was directed towards me. He sounded like he had been worried, eyes focused in on mine carefully.

Maybe it was because of the scene I’d caused just the show prior or the fact I was sure I was probably shining under the stage lights in my pooling sweat that caused an uneasiness to rise in Harry’s mind.

“Y/n? You ready to call it?” I blinked rapidly, opening my mouth, I was a fish out of water. Sentences became impossible to correctly piece together as an extra layer of heat covers my face. A blanket of blush covering my already irritated face, I felt embarrassed.

Why would he stop such a crucial part of each show for me? What if something had happened during our closing songs tonight? The unsettling lump in my throat expanded into what felt like vomit rising, even with my throat completely dry. The idea that something could be jeopardized, ruining the great experience that is Love On Tour, could all be caused by my inability to keep pushing for just a few more songs made me sick.

Yet, the look Harry gave me as his hands slipped around my waist, lips caught in a worried line sent an all familiar struggle in my bones.

I wanted to make it right, make sure everything was double checked. There would be no issues and everyone could have their two hours of love promised by Harry and the love band, but I also longed to make sure Harry was content, constantly unbothered. If I continued to push the bile down hard enough, I could focus on doing what’s best for one person, forget about everyone else involved.

So it became a blurry mess, between the moment Harry called soundcheck quits to where we found ourselves now. Cuddled up in the relief that was well filtered air conditioner. Harry’s hands tangling and detangling between my hair, pulling lightly on my scalp to relieve any possible pressure, his eyes fixated on the TV which played some ninety’s sitcom with a beautiful group of friends that the public was made to believe were considered average.

While he seemed content in the position he was in, in the moment, I couldn’t put my mind to ease, the anxiety that I could do exactly what I feared most poisoning any sense of relaxation I had previously.

How do you make everyone happy at once when nobody seems to be on the same page? How can you spread love evenly when you’ve already spread yourself so thin? My face was greyed, mind plagued by my deepest fears. My harshest wounds.

Realistically, Harry’s final decision had benefitted the entire crew greatly. Everyone tired and worn from the continuous heat wave that was a blanket over the earth at the moment. But the way it was phrased, the way I was shot sympathetic smiles made me uneasy. As if their benefit was more of a loss and a waste of time.

Looking up at Harry, I studied his face carefully. He seemed at ease. Unbothered by it all. His eyes trained on the screen, a soft laugh escaping his throat. Completely relaxed. Like he didn’t realize I was just barely a foot below his eye level, eyes watering as I slowly died. I promised him to stop being such a push over, such a people pleaser, but you can’t cure a sickness that’s not truly an illness.

How can you love someone you don’t know is sick?

——————————————————————————

I wish I could say I stuck to my word. Continued to be the person I vowed to become after my incident weeks ago. Stopped being a push over, stopped forgetting about myself. Stopped putting on other peoples shoes before my own. But I’m not a liar.

The air was thick, the humidity unforgiving and unrelenting all morning. Everything felt off from the minute my foot left the hotel room booked for the crew. Yet, I took no time to dwell on my own feelings, pushing back the unsettling pit in my stomach and focusing on the day ahead.

Elin sent a quick text to our band group chat. An old one we’d made without Harry to surprise him for his birthday. It was short and simple. The flags were there, ruby red and waving in the wind. The fact that the request was hidden from the one person who pushed back for me. The only person who could say, “no” for me without anyone protesting.

She wrote, “Hey, y/n/n! I’m running a bit late. Would you mind picking up some coffee and treats for everyone? I’ll send the address for the shop!” It was less of question, I realized, reading it back. More of a request or even a demand. Still, it was short and a simple task. Nothing unmanageable.

She sent the location, and only then did I fully recognize my regret. The shop was almost thirty minutes away from the arena, without traffic. Considering morning rush hour was in place, I could count on being late.

But I had agreed. The guilt of being late ate at me, but even the thought of letting everyone down was nauseating. Making my head spin and eyes water at even the slightest vision of their frowning faces and furrowed brows.

So, I got in my car, ignoring every text as I broke every law of the road to reach the coffee shop as quickly as possible. Eyes squinting at the morning sun and arms sticky from condensation.

——————————————————————————

When I arrived to the arena, it was bustling. The stage crew rushing around to find parts of equipment needed for the upcoming soundcheck, managing security debriefing down the hall for barricade procedures. The heat almost unbearable in each hallway.

It all led to the one room that everyone gathered in. A larger dressing room that was more of a living room. Colder than most of the building and more decorated too.

Laughter filtered through the cracked double doors, cold hair slipping through like a small taste of what heaven felt like in that moment. You could see everyone standing in a circle, cups of water held loosely in each one’s hand as they joked around as a tight knit group of friends would.

They must of smelled the goods, it must have wafted because without even a noise being made, Nyoh, Pauli and Mitch were looking straight at me. Smiles painted on their faces wide and welcoming, reflecting their actions as I was swarmed by every single band member at once. Hands grabbing at the donut box and tray of coffee all but ripped out of the palm of my unsteady hand.

Their gratefulness was overwhelming at first. Supplying me with that addictive euphoria I longed for with each task I put myself through. They hustled around to take a peak at what I had bought. Ready to stuff their faces with a little of each as I settled in for the day.

Silence fell over the room suddenly, a deep breath being inhaled only to be held. Almost as if someone was trying to find something to say, but had come short. Unable to figure out the right articulation of their statement.

“What, is something wrong?” I smiled sweetly, walking over to the table. Sarah shrugged, turning to me with a sweet smile, hand on my shoulder almost like it was a support for what was about to be said.

“Oh, nothing. We just don’t really like these flavors.” Nyoh shared bravely, smiling halfway, still focused on the opened and not crinkled donut box.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry guys, I wasn’t told if you guys wanted anything specific. I can run back and get some more?” Somehow, even in my greatest efforts, I still came short. Guilt eating at me that I had probably ruined their morning. Delaying their breakfast because I had to be a screw up. It made me sicker than the pit in my stomach this morning had made me.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll just order some online. It’ll be here quick.” My face looked just as blank as my mind was.

In that moment, I lacked all ability to respond. Thoughts running wild, much to fast to say anything except a pathetic squeak.

“Oh.” Is what I said. If I wasn’t such a coward, such a push over, a walking talking door mat, I would’ve yelled. Ripped the hair from my scalp.

“Why did you make me drive all the way there this morning if you could just order it? What about the money I spent? Are you going to pay me back or is this just another involuntary favor I’ve gone out of my way to complete?” If I was Harry, which I’m not, I would’ve said that. I would’ve yelled and cried and defended my name with all my willpower. Not letting anyone interrupt. I’d have some self respect but that wasn’t me.

I am Y/n Y/l/n. The girl who sits in the back of the stage, doing so much for so little. The girl who gives up everything for everyone because she can’t control it. Because she’s sick in the head.

So I said, “Oh.” Like an idiot. My throat dry and my eyes watery. I nodded, firm and short. Ready to make my exit.

Everyone turned back to their circle, laughing again as the order was placed. In a room full of my brothers and sisters I couldn’t help but feel out of place. Unappreciated. Suddenly, it was like my endless empathy and compassion wasn’t enough for them. It wasn’t good enough. And if that wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t good enough.

And as I disappeared behind the double doors, not a soul called back for me. A ghost to everyone. Unappreciated and unaware of the intense heartbreak I was facing.

In this moment, I believe it’s where it got bad. Worse than ever before. My brain no longer silently resisting as my entire being longed for that nod of approval and the appreciative conversations that came after it.

It continued, like this, all day. My feet padding against the pavement and onto the tiles of the hallways. Sweat sticking to my forehead and dripping down my neck. It looked in my shirt.

All day I’d been running around helping. The itch to be better, to do better overwhelming. If it was fetching a water bottle for the sound guys or searching up and down religiously for a missing headset for the lighting crew, I was first on the scene to assist in every way possible.

Each nod and smile sent my way fueling my addiction. Each action I pursued further breaking my promise to Harry more and more. I felt myself slipping away.

I just wanted to be good. Longed for it every waking minute. Like if I kept pushing, kept reaching that desired feeling, achieving each goal to make another persons life easier, I lost more and more of myself. Stress building like a ton of bricks throw on my shoulders. The weight unbearable. Heavier and heavier each minute.

Harry had finally shown up, ready to begin soundcheck. His in ears hung around his neck carelessly. White shirt stuck to his body in sweat. The words crinkled to a point where they were unrecognizable. His shorts were short and shoes light on the floor. He looked satisfied, light and well rested. The opposite of everything I felt.

“Hey, angel!” He called enthusiastically.

For the first time that day, my cheeks lifted from a genuine smile. Not one caused by a success in helping another person, or a result of devoting all my time and energy to another. But because someone who never asked anything of me and still held as much if not more appreciation for me had welcomed me into his arms without any requests.

I let myself melt into his touch, eyebrows relaxing and heartbeat slowing for the first time all day. His lips rested flat against the top of my head, arms held tight around mine, chest pressed against mine. We were a sweaty tangled mess but I couldn’t have been happier.

“Ready to do some test runs?” He questioned, moving back to brush away beads of sweat that had collected on my rosy face. I nodded eagerly, though inside I felt weary and panicked at the idea of having yet another long task to do.

Another swift peck was delivered to my forehead, Harry’s hold retreating from my body. He led the way to the stage before stopping.

“Shit, I forgot the waters. Y/n, would you mind grabbing them? I left them by the water fountain.” I nodded, blinking harshly. My feet pivoting away from him, shoulders hunched and muscles tensed.

My feet moved quick, running down the halls to find the pack of water bottles Harry had instructed me to grab.

The plastic was soon in my line of vision. Full and cool to the touch. They were heavy. Nothing I couldn’t carry normally, but the unforgiving tension within my muscles made it hard to move. Multiple times I stopped to set it down, breath jagged and heavy. Hands slipping away from the plastic cover as my palms were lathered in sweat and leaking water from inside the package.

And suddenly, the hallways that was once so short became longer and longer. A never ending straightaway that only felt hotter and hotter with each step. My mind weighed me down. Pulling me into a spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. I began to believe I couldn’t do it. No, I knew I couldn’t do it.

No matter how much I wished, longed to do the only thing Harry, my best friend, my lover, had ever asked of me, I couldn’t physically continue. The bricks building finally reaching the maximum and breaking the camels back. This final request dealing my final blow. And each thought, each straining muscle crashing underneath it.

The crash was loud, when I went down. Knees hitting the floor, the sound of bones hitting concrete muffled by the squeak of water exploding throughout the thin passageway. The plastic breaking and the singular packages of the liquid bouncing around. Running off and away.

Only then did the panic reach an all time high. As if the severity of it couldn’t get worse. It did. My hands reaching out to grasp at any stray bottles. Holding them close to my chest. Keeping the few I could reach close to my body. I shook, unable to breathe suddenly.

Maybe it was the humidity, or the heat. Maybe it was another heat stroke. But no, to anyone passing by, or anyone who could have seen it from an outside perspective, it was clear that this was not the weather. This was deeper than that. This was pure panic. Something I’d buried for years all surfacing at once like a tsunami of pain washing over my lungs and drowning me in it.

A sob racked through my body, the cry escaping my clenched jaw with such force, my throat burned after. The rising nausea Id felt all morning turning out to only be a lump of anxiety that had grown ten times its size and finally escaped its cage.

Everything hurt, in that moment. My lungs on fire and my eyes crying themselves a river. The tips of my finger scratched at my throat. The only breaths that manages to get in and out being the gasps for air between each sob. I tried to grab my throat, grab my chest. Anything to make it easier to breathe. Yet, my hands were locked around the water like a vise. I couldn’t pry myself away from it if I had tried.

My head pounded, my body growing weaker, aching into less of a dull pain and more of a searing sensation pricking across my skin like pins and needles.

My ears were ringing, downing out everything other than the heaviness of my breathing and volume of my cries. So much so, I hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps rushing in my direction. I hadn’t seen Harry in a full sprint rushing to my aid.

No, in my full blown panic attack, I hadn’t even been able to process he was there with me until his fingers curled around my shoulders and his green eyes looked into mine.

I watched his mouth move rapidly, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Still unable to hear, eyes moving too fast to read his lips.

“H-Harry I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” I all but yelled. My breathing loud, sounding of a wheeze.

Even in my state, the dining intense and my body still burning, I understood he was doing his best to calm me. Familiar with the feelings that had overtaken my body.

In the mess, he has somehow managed to rip the water from my grasp. My hands flying to his shoulders, head buried between his shoulder and neck. His shirt wet with my tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The words came out like a prayer.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t know why I was sorry. Maybe for not doing my job I promised him. Maybe for adding stress to his already full plate. Maybe it was me convincing myself I was only becoming more of an inconvenience to him. Either way, I felt him shake his head.

“Don’t say that. No, stop apologizing. Fuck, stop it.” He begged gently, hands rubbing along my spine in an attempt to soothe me.

In some ways, it worked. The ringing fading into the background and my lungs becoming a little less tender. But the burning was still there and breathing was still a struggle.

I shook my head against his skin, eyes shut in embarrassment.

“I’ll pick it all up. I’ll clean everything that spilled. I’ll-I can fix this.” I pleaded, more for myself than for him. He held me tighter.

“No. No you won’t. It’s not your problem. Y/n, stop. Stop. Please, listen to me.” He sounded more stern than calm now. A different approach being taken to get me to snap out of it.

“Y/n you did everything you could and that was more than enough. You are more than enough. Please, believe me. Please, try to understand my perspective.” By now, my eyes were dry, all my tears used up. My breathing heavy but manageable. The gasps fading into soft hitches of breath from my intense sobbing.

“You promised me, you promised that you would stop doing this. Stop overworking yourself for the benefit of others. And I believed you, but I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have because I know you. I know you better than anyone here, so I know you’ll never change.” I looked at him through my eyelashes, slouching further into myself, I sat away from him. Head pulling itself off of his shoulder to face him.

“I’m so-“ He cut me off, not wanting to hear another apology slip past my lips.

“I wish. I wish you could see what I see. How everyone else sees you. How you’re more than enough even without all these extravagant attempts to ease our stress. Y/n, you do so much more for us in one week than we could ever hope to do in one year. You put yourself last in every single situation. You’re selfless and the most empathetic person I have ever had the privilege to know. You’re brave, a-and passionate about everyone. How can you not see that? That this enough? You just being here is enough?” It was like the roles were swapped. My eyes drying while Harry’s filled with tears. Filled to the brim along his waterline. He blinked them away, my thumb quick to find the few that fell past his eyelashes and wipe it from his skin.

“I wish I could promise you that I’ll change, Harry. I wish I could tell you I’ll never do this again, but if I’m completely honest, just for a second, I can’t do that. It’s like, my brain is wired specifically to aid to everyone else’s issues. I can’t rest until I’ve done everything I can, Harry. I just can’t. And my chest hurts. It physically hurts me not being able to make everyone happy. I just feel like I’m always doing something wrong. Like I’m disappointing everyone.” I ripped myself open completely with my confession, showing a vulnerability I hadn’t even had the courage to admit six inches away from a mirror.

“I don’t expect you to change, love. I just hope that one day, you’ll be able to see what we all see. What we all recognize everyday. That you’ll figure it out.” His hands held mine. His steady hands drilling my shaky ones.

My eyebrows furrowed into a sad expression, but it was a good sad. One that needed to be expressed.

“I love you.” It was quiet, barely a whimper. My throat dry and eyes puffy. He smiled, sighing softly. Not out of irritation, but admiration. A soft smile playing on his face.

“I love you more.”

In that moment I felt less of a failure and more like a success. Like ultimately, even if I had failed myself in more ways than I could possibly count out loud, ultimately, in some odd, twisted way, I had won. Guilt continued to eat at me and my stomach would always twist at the idea of letting someone down, but it was lesser than before. Being told I was more than enough sparked something small inside of my brain. I couldn’t promise to change, I couldn’t promise to stop overthinking and pushing myself down. But I knew I could get better. I could work on it. I know that, and I’m thankful for that.