#i hope this was a good first try of a longer format!
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pinkpenguin12401 · 1 year ago
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♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
April 27th, 2024:
Today I went to Montclair NJ with some family friends. I ended up not spending a lot of time with them directly, I ended up walking around on my own doing a lot of exploring and learning about myself. I learned that I want to start setting more long-term goals. ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)  I'm going to be 26 next month, I am SO NOT ready for that!
I also drew a lot today, I did mostly observational sketches of random women I saw while sitting on a bench. I also drew my point of view from the back seat on the way to Montclair. I also doodled my baby, Ivan, if I don't draw him at least once a day, something is very wrong. LOL.
૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆。
I did go out to lunch alone during the day trip! My dad was super nice and gave me lunch money for when I go out. (Thanks Dad!). I went to a very small ramen restaurant. I tried shouyu ramen for the first time. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME TO TRY THAT SOONER??? I HAVE BEEN MISSING OUT. ‎𐂐◯𓇋
At one point I was in the like circle of churches. And I sat down on a bench and I was relaxing, and some little curly-haired dog ran up to me and started snuggling my legs. And his owners were like "Bentley, Bentley stop it!"
Fun fact, my dog's name is Bentley. ૮ ˆﻌˆ ა When I looked up he finally listened to his owners, and I saw a congregation of my faith directly across the street from me. My one friend said it was God intervening. What a strange coincidence though. I don't know what to make of it yet. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Not much else happened, I came home around 6 and my mom and I had a huge discussion on random things while tidying up the kitchen together. We managed to get along. Which is rare. ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭
Alright, now it is time for me to go do my Duolingo, some math, and some journaling. (And maybe buy the Sims 3 since it's on sale- we'll see!).
Have a good night! Oh, here are some photos I took!
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀��ˉ͈́ )✧
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mylovesstuffs · 4 months ago
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Little Hands, Big Hearts — Lee Seokmin
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Genre: Non-idol au-ish, babysitter au and rom-com
Pairing: Seokmin × fem!reader
Content: Friends-to-lovers (?), babysitter & hot uncle, found family, single parent vibes (but he’s actually just an uncle), mutual pining, jealousy but cute, domestic fluff, protective love interest, small Joshua cameo (no dialogue), idol life elements (seokmin’s busy schedules), “i want to be someone important to you” confession
Word count: 2140 words
A/N: I actually had something else planned for his birthday, something much longer and (hopefully) better but Tumblr decided to be a piece of shit, and I physically cannot format it all in one sitting without losing my mind. So maybe next month (or the month after, knowing my luck). Anyway, when I realized mere hours before Dokyeom’s birthday, mind you—that my original post wasn’t happening, I had to speed-write this incredibly cliché thing instead. Am I satisfied with it? Absolutely not. Are we running with it anyway? Absolutely yes.
Huge, massive, life-saving thanks to @gyubakeries !!! I swear you are the only reason this got beta-ed last minute. I hope your pillows stay cold on both sides forever, your WiFi never betrays you, and you obliterate your exams. Ilysm, truly. I was fighting for my life with this schedule, and then Tumblr came in and delivered the final boss battle. But anyway happy belated birthday, DK! May your high notes always soar, your jokes always land, and your days be filled with nothing but love and warmth. Love you endlessly, you absolute gem of a human being! 💛🎉 And sorry in advance for whatever this is.
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Babysitting wasn’t exactly the most glamorous job in the world but it paid the bills. Plus, you genuinely enjoyed spending time with kids. That’s why, when your friend recommended you to a new client who needed an occasional babysitter for his niece, you said yes without hesitation.
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What you didn’t expect was that the ‘uncle’ you’d be working for was Lee Seokmin, the bright, cheerful vocalist of SEVENTEEN.
The first time you met him, he nearly tripped over the couch trying to grab his niece’s stuffed bunny before she could burst into tears. His energy was exactly what you imagined from someone who spent most of his time performing on stage.
“Hi! I’m Dokyeom,” he said, flashing a beaming smile that was so radiant it could rival the sun. “Thank you so much for helping out. I’d do it myself, but—”
“—You have a busy idol schedule,” you finished for him.
He blinked. “Yeah…exactly.”
His niece, Hana, was an absolute angel. She had his same bright smile and she grew fond of you immediately. You spent the next few weeks looking after her whenever Seokmin was busy with schedules and little by little, you saw different sides of him.
He wasn’t just the loud, happy-go-lucky guy everyone knew. He was also a doting uncle who could lull Hana to sleep with soft hums of ‘Circles’, and a surprisingly good cook when he had the time.
One night after a particularly long day, Seokmin returned home just as you were tidying up Hana’s toys. He let out an exaggerated sigh and collapsed onto the couch, covering his face with a pillow.
“Long day?”
“You have no idea,” he groaned, voice muffled. “But I kept thinking about Hana and—” He hesitated. “—and wondering if she gave you a hard time.”
You smiled. “She was great, as always. Though, she did insist I tell her a bedtime story about ‘Uncle Min and the Princess.’”
Seokmin peeked out from behind the pillow, eyes twinkling with interest. “Oh? And what happened in this story?”
You shrugged, playing along. “Well, Uncle Min was a very silly prince who made the princess laugh all the time.”
“Sounds accurate.”
“But then he got lost in a giant castle of laundry and the princess had to help him find his way out.”
Seokmin laughed, sitting up. “Okay, that part is true. My laundry pile is terrifying.”
The conversation melted into comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft breathing of Hana sleeping in the other room. After a moment, Seokmin glanced at you with a thoughtful look on his face.
“You’re really good with her,” he said softly. “I—uh, I really appreciate you.”
You felt warmth creep up your neck. “It’s my job.”
“I know, but…I think Hana really loves you.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I can see why.”
Your heart did a tiny flip at the way he looked at you, gentle and sincere. You quickly busied yourself with putting away the last of Hana’s toys, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your face heated up.
Maybe Hana wasn’t the only one growing attached.
The weeks turned into months and before you knew it, babysitting Hana had become a regular part of your life and so had Seokmin.
You didn’t realize when the small moments started meaning more, when you started looking forward to his late-night returns just to chat about your day or when you found yourself laughing a little too much at his terrible dad jokes. Seokmin was always there. Bringing you snacks before he left for work. Texting to ask if Hana was behaving. Staying up an extra ten minutes just to keep you company before you left for the night. It was easy. It was natural. It was dangerous.
Because one evening after you put Hana to bed, Seokmin walked you to the door like he always did but this time, he hesitated.
“I, uh…I have a day off tomorrow,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hana’s been asking to go to the park and I figured…maybe you could come too?”
You blinked. “You want me to come? You don’t need a babysitter tomorrow.”
“I know,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “But I thought it’d be fun if we all hung out together. Y’know, as…friends.”
Friends. Right.
You ignored the way your heart did a stupid little flip and nodded. “Okay. That sounds fun.”
-
“Push me, push me!” she squealed.
You laughed, helping her up. “Okay, okay! But what about Uncle Min?”
Hana turned to Seokmin and pouted. “Uncle Min is too slow!”
Seokmin gasped-pouted. “Betrayal! How could you?”
Hana just giggled and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “She’s not wrong, though.”
Seokmin narrowed his eyes at you. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”
Before you could react, he scooped you up, yes, actually lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.
You shrieked. “SEOKMIN! PUT ME DOWN!”
“Nope! You insulted my speed, now you must pay the price!”
Hana clapped her hands, cheering. “Again! Again!”
When he finally set you down, you were breathless from both laughter and the way his arms had felt way too strong around you. It was hot.
"You’re absolutely something else,” you muttered, smoothing your clothes.
Seokmin just grinned, completely unfazed.
The day continued with moments like that, Seokmin challenging you to silly races, losing horribly at rock-paper-scissors to Hana, and stealing your ice cream just to see you pout and somewhere in between all the teasing, the laughter, and the stolen glances, you felt something change. Maybe it was when Hana fell asleep in your lap during lunch and Seokmin just sat there watching with a soft unreadable expression. Or maybe it was when he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and said, ‘You’re really amazing with her. She adores you.’
Maybe it was just him.
And you were starting to fall.
You should have known that nothing could stay simple when Lee Seokmin was involved. Seokmin wasn’t just ‘Hana’s uncle’ anymore. He wasn’t just the funny, sunshine-filled idol who stumbled into fatherly duties with zero experience but a whole lot of love. He was…Seokmin. Your Seokmin. (Not that he actually was. But he could be. If only you were brave enough to admit what you were feeling.)
One evening after another long day of babysitting, you found yourself lingering. You weren’t sure why, because Seokmin had already come home, Hana was fast asleep, and yet…you just didn’t want to leave yet.
Seokmin sat on the couch, running a tired hand through his hair. He looked exhausted—schedules had been brutal lately but when he saw you standing awkwardly near the door, he smiled anyway.
“Leaving?” he asked, voice soft as usual.
“I…should,” you said, shifting on your feet but you didn’t move.
Seokmin noticed. Instead of saying anything, he patted the empty space next to him, an invitation. You hesitated for about three seconds before giving in.
As soon as you sat down, Seokmin sighed and leaned his head against your shoulder. Your heart nearly stopped.
“Just for a second,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “I’m too tired to sit up straight.”
You should have told him to sit properly. You should have shoved him off before you lost your mind. Instead, you sat there frozen, too aware of his warmth, his scent, the soft rise and fall of his breathing.
“Hey.”
You hummed in response, too scared to actually speak.
“I was thinking,” Seokmin said, voice still quiet, still sleepy. “I like spending time with you. A lot.”
Your breath hitched.
“You’re great with Hana,” he continued, eyes still closed. “And I always feel better when you’re around.” He suddenly sat up and faced you, his expression unreadable. “And…I think—” He swallowed. “I think I—”
BANG.
A loud noise from Hana’s room made both of you jump apart.
Seokmin was on his feet instantly. “Hana?”
The moment was gone.
He rushed to check on his niece, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding, mind racing, stomach doing cartwheels. What had he been about to say? And why were you so scared to find out?
A few days later, you were out shopping when you ran into your ex. It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t.
He was just some guy called Joshua from years ago and the relationship had ended on neutral terms. He saw you, waved, and you exchanged some small talk before parting ways. Simple. Harmless. Totally normal. But when you got back to Seokmin’s apartment, you knew something was off. He was acting weird. Not his usual ‘I just tripped over air’ weird. Weirder. Quieter. Sulkier.
And then as you were helping Hana with her drawing, he suddenly blurted out, “Who was that guy?”
“What?” You blinked animatedly.
“At the mall,” he said, not looking at you. “I saw you talking to some guy.”
Oh. “An ex,” you said simply. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Seokmin nodded slowly, lips pressed together. “You seemed happy talking to him.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Are you…jealous?”
“Me? Pfft. No.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous? I mean, we’re just—you’re just—”
You waited. He struggled.
Finally, he groaned, rubbing his face. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little jealous.”
Your heart did a very unhelpful little flip.
Seokmin exhaled and looked at you. “I don’t want to be just ‘Hana’s uncle’ to you,” his breath caught. “I want to be someone important to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The way you’re important to me.”
Silence. Your brain screamed at you to say anything but before you could, a tiny voice interrupted.
“Uncle Min,” Hana said, tugging his sleeve. “Stop making her sad.”
Both of you turned to her.
Seokmin paled. “I—I made her sad?”
Hana pouted. “She looks like she wants to cry.”
You did, honestly. But not for the reason she thought. Because finally, finally, you had your answer.
You swallowed hard and forced a smile, ruffling Hana’s hair to distract yourself. “I’m not sad, sweetheart. Your uncle just…surprised me.”
Hana looked between the two of you with that suspicious little squint of hers. Then she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Grown-ups are weird,” she muttered before skipping off to continue coloring.
Seokmin chuckled but when his gaze returned to you. “Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah. Just…processing.”
Seokmin nodded slowly. “Take your time.”
And just like that, he gave you an out. No pressure. No expectations. Just him, waiting, hoping. Maybe that was what made you nervous the most.
-
A week passed and things were almost normal again. Except now, you were hyper-aware of everything Seokmin did. It was getting too much so when Zhang, one of your childhood friends, texted you out of the blue asking to catch up over coffee, you jumped at the chance. It was not a date and you made that very clear. But Seokmin didn’t get the memo.
When he saw you getting ready, actually putting in effort, wearing something cute, doing your hair, he panicked.
“Where are you going?” he asked, pretending to be casual about it.
You glanced at him. “Just meeting a friend for coffee.”
Seokmin squinted. “A friend?”
“Yeah.”
“A male friend?”
You smirked. “Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t,” he said too quickly.
You bit back a laugh. “Seokmin. Are you jealous again?”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “I just…I just think you should be careful! What if this guy has bad intentions? What if he—”
“Zhang is married,” you interrupted, amused. “To a man.”
“Oh.”
You grinned. “Were you about to ask me not to go?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then groaned, rubbing his face. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” You patted his cheek. Big mistake.
Because the second your fingers touched his skin, he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. Your breath hitched. For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. Then, softly, so softly you almost missed it, Seokmin said, “If I asked you out, would you say yes?”
Your heart literally stopped.
He was still holding your wrist, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your pulse. If he could feel how fast it was beating, he wouldn't have to ask anything.
Slowly, you met his gaze. “Would you actually ask?”
He didn't say anything at first but responded a few seconds later, “Maybe.” His lips twitched. “Depends on if you’d say yes.”
You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so dumb.”
“And you still haven’t answered.”
You rolled your eyes but your smile gave you away. “Yeah, idiot. I’d say yes.”
Seokmin beamed. “Cool, cool. So, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Wanna go on a date tomorrow?”
You grinned. “Yeah. I do.”
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⌦ 🌻 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝
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sickwhispers · 9 months ago
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helloo!! could i request a twisted astro x a very sleepy toon reader? :3 like they just have habits of falling asleep everywhere no matter what even during chases with other twisted?
of course no pressure with writing! ^_^ have a good day or night !
Don't worry it's no pressure at all! You astro fans understand me deeply. (Also dw I got your other ask as well, the standard format for x reader requests are headcanons unless someone specifically asks for something else like a one-shot)
BEDTIME ROUTINE
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Pairing: (Twisted) Astro x reader
Relationship: romantic
Warning: he might sound a little stalker-ish, reader isn't fully comfortable with his twisted form yet
Type: headcanons + drabble
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Twisted Astro no longer wears that same signature cornflower blue blanket anymore
It's not that he doesn't like it or that the ichor had ruined its quality beyond repair
It's just that he was better things to use it for now
He always kept it wrapped around your figure, practically covering every aspect of your body besides a little pocket that allowed you to breathe comfortably
he always made sure to keep you hidden
he knew how dangerous the other twisted could be, and because of that, it had become his number one priority to keep you safe and sound
although before he had gotten used to your sleepy nature, there was a lot of concern surrounding how many times he had found you passed out somewhere on the floor
at first, he had debated if you had some kind of sleeping disorder like narcolepsy
but after a while, he had found out it was just how you were
that didn't reassure his worries completely, though
part of him was thankful you were always sleeping
despite how guilty he felt about that tiny little pleasure
he knew he was scary
he's seen the fear in your eyes
it had been so long since you've smiled his way
but when you were asleep, it was almost like you trusted him again
he's no longer the same Astro you've known all those years
a voice in the back of his head keeps trying to convince him that if you just see how much he cares for you
how many times he's wrapped you up in a blanket and shielded you from the world outside your dreams
that you'd realize just how much he truly loves you
you'd finally realize that he'd rather face a brutal death than ever allow anything to harm you
maybe he's just too shy to outright say that
but part of him can't help but hope that he wouldn't have to
that everything would fall into place, and you'd come to that realization yourself
It didn't take too long before the twisted had lost their interest in you. The blaring sound of an airhorn had captured its attention quick enough to leave your resting body unharmed. And, with the sound fading into nothing, he made sure to be gentle when holding you close. You had been lucky enough to run into a twisted with a low attention span, and he had been lucky enough to get to you in time before your death could become a possibility.
Your chest rose and fell in an almost rhythmic motion, and if his mind still hadn't been panicking from the idea of losing you this floor, he would've taken the time to admire just how soft your snores were. But, there were still threats on this floor. As much as he would have loved to sit there and watch you sleep, he knew it was only a matter of time before another twisted came along and threatened your safety.
So, in the gentlest fashion, he wrapped your body up in the cornflower colored blanket he always did and wisked you off. He didn't know when you'd wake up from this little nap of yours, and despite how guilty it made it him, he wished it wouldn't be until a few hours. He found comfort in holding you close to him. A comfort he hadn't felt in a long time.
It was cute with how tired you always were, and he was thankful it gave him an opportunity to hold you do tenderly in his two upper arms. He knew if you woke up you'd be terrified. It's happened before. It hurt him having to watch the way your eyes widened, the sound of your hasty breathing had been almost deafening as you tried to bite back a scream.
But for now, he'd have to take it slow. He'd have to ease you into this new form of his. He'd have to teach you that despite how grotesque the view of ichor dripping down from his eyes was, he could be gentle. He could be the same Astro you had loved before. You just needed time, He'd tell himself over and over. You just needed time.
And, until that time came, he'd continue to stay a silent savior. One unbeknownst to you as you slept soundly against him. You could sleep as long as you wanted on these floors. As long as he was with you, he'd protect you. He'd keep you safe.
He's almost too shy to give away the possibility of you knowing how you managed to survive so many floors for this long
With how many times you had just dropped to the floor mid-chase, the others would have assumed you'd be long gone
And yet, you continue to stay alive
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sasahuaa · 1 month ago
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Idia Shroud as an omega
Riddle - Leona - Azul - Kalim - Vil - Malleus
gn!reader, sfw
out of all of them, i believe this is one of my best fics, was really inspired in this one! i am experimenting with a new format for this series and i am really proud of how this turned out, i love exploring internal conflicts of characters, and i hope you all like this fic too. i cant believe i have just one more from the dorm leaders to go
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Since his childhood, Idia came to terms that his life was already decided by circumstances out of his control. The future heir of the household, the head of S.T.Y.X, what school he would attend, the circles he would be part of.
Though when his mind wandered with fantasies and dreams of countless adventures, with his little brother by his side as his partner in crime, Idia held onto hope that at least some parts of his life, as little as they could be, could be decided by himself.
Idia hopes he will be able to play games and have free time, he hopes that he can simulate a place of freedom where all his fantasies are reality, all encompassed inside his room.
Ah, wouldn't it be nice to be the one choosing his own mate? Preposterous as it may seem to him, in a faraway land, or another reality, he could be loved.
Courting
It was supposed to just be a security check, a routine he followed countless times. 
Once again he received a message from Crowley, something about a mishap during  a magic class, somehow turning into a virus, contaminating both people and - sevens, Idia would like to know how - machines. Idia pets himself in the back for creating a good antivirus system for Ortho, else he doesn’t know if he would be able to stop himself from hunting down the perpetrators. 
Good thing his baby brother is safe, inside his nest, where no evil can get to him.
Leaning on his chair, Idia finished up his job, while running the code again on his computer to make sure everything was good to go, he looked away to the cameras, checking if they were back from malfunctioning. He scrolled quickly from each of them.
Camera 1, camera 2, camera 3… a long way until he got to camera 52 in an almost deserted classroom, just one student and a very cute cat.
Feeling indulgent, the omega enhanced the settings, zooming with a perfect 4k quality, although what first got his attention and a small smile was the catlike creature, what completely stole his breath away, made his jaw drop, and his skin hotter than usual was the human who calmly spoke to it, with mischievous glint in their eyes and a teasing smile.
Between the daydreaming adventures he shared with Ortho years ago, a mate is not something he often fantasized about, at the time thinking many other things were much more exciting than alphas. Because of that, Idia doesn't think he has a type, a mate was never in his plans, not when it means tying them down with him, in a place even Idia can barely tolerate.
But looking at them, Idia thinks you are totally his type.
He felt like he was flying.
– 
Idia told himself that he was not a creep, your pretty face may have caught him off guard, but he would not go out of his way to search for you.
If by chance his tablet crossed your path or he stumbled on a camera with you in it, and he lingered a little longer than appropriate, that was just a coincidence. 
You're just so enticing to watch, to the way you're diligent in classes, trying to catch up on the knowledge you were deprived of being a non native of this land, to how you're so willing to help, and an undeniable strength making up for the lack of magic. 
Everything about you screamed ideal alpha. He was sure he was not the only omega who noticed, if other omegas getting shy and acting like pre-pubescents first meeting a potential mate was anything to go by.
Not him though! He would never embarrass himself like these normies do! Actually talking to alphas? Ew, he is too much pleased with just observing when it happens that you appear on his screen.
But maybe he got too careless, and it was all your fault - how dare you be so mesmerizing, he will have his revenge someday. 
While he was admiri- ahem - doing really important stuff, Ortho sneaked behind his back and caught his gaze on you. Not cool Ortho, absolutely not cool. And his very much NOT crush was figured out by his little brother, which again, Ortho, Idia swears you are just seeing things.
“But, brother, why are your body heat and heartbeat higher than usual?” he would counter with a cheeky tone any time he tried to deny.
Idia rather die than to like someone, to have to meet expectations and give himself. It’s reaching up for something that demands more than he is capable, going too close to the sun, none the wiser setting oneself to flames and far away from salvation, the end always being falling to the hard ground, no one to stabilize his feet in the end.
All his protests fell in deaf ears, for one thing the two Shrouds had in common was great stubbornness when they had an idea in mind. Suddenly, Muscle Red couldn't contact him anymore, a blink of an eye later,  a recently released MMORPG was installed on his computer.
A new game meant that most players were rushing to complete quests, farming and, as expected from a game from that genre, forming guilds of 2 to 5 people. The importance of guilds was purely made for easier fights against bosses, completing special events, fighting on the weekly championship, earning higher rewards if you and your teammates do good, and, ugh, socializing.
Typing or talking behind a screen is much easier than real life, the anonymity is comforting for Idia, but it also comes with being familiar and, at the same time, unknown about the other person. Muscle Red was both of those, his current guild… is not.
Ortho was very smug about the fact that he prevented Idia from playing with Muscle Red in this MMORPG, eyes glinting with mirth only a child his age could have. His brother also made sure to be the one creating the guild, accessible only through invite, which was great! Less randoms and noobies for him to carry! Idia was perfectly fine with being a duo with his brother.
Except he was not.
Ortho made a whole show of inviting you to the guild, searching for your username using the IP from Ramshackle, the character named Catluv following right behind them was daunting. Idia could at least count the small victory that though he was one step away from his comfort zone about knowing who he was playing with, at least you didn't know about them, a small grace that Ortho granted him.
Worst of all, his brother constantly sent both you and him to do fetch quests or killing mobs while he decorated the base. But mostly surprising for him, being playing with you didn't feel like a chore. Of course, he was still doing most of the work, but you also put your fair share of work done and when bored, started chatting about anything that got your interest and aimlessly wandering around his character. Most important, you didn't seem to care about his lackluster responses.
[Base upgraded! Return to spawn to check what's new!]
Catluv: im omw back, was waiting to buy that armor
Catluv: u coming or will keep farming?
Catluv: also want to search for that boss in the plains later, increased rate drop to legendary weapons, if i get that 0.01% spear i'll literally cry
Gloomurai: im coming with you, i can help you later
Catluv: yay
It was nice, if the omega had to admit to himself. Another type of comforting he wasn't used to, he guesses it comes from spending time with someone he has positive feelings on while also keeping his own privacy. What surprised him the most though, was the deep purr that he made anytime a notification from you popped up, the first time Idia heard himself he almost jumped from the chair, being caught completely off guard.
Idia was surprised that he could purr, he thought that this was another one of his failures as an omega, he was not nurturing, not the normal gentle, kind, petite that was expected, he felt like any omega behaviour he had was more bothersome than enjoyable, except the nests he put effort into.
The housewarden was also warming up to you, conversations went easy when he felt no judgement from your behalf. When he first saw you, Idia thought you didn't look like the type to tolerate conversations about game mechanics and probabilities, but you were indulgent whenever the topic came up. He also had a brief suspicion that you would seek openings for those kinds of conversations, since he always rambled and many times lost track of the original question.
Gloomurai: so you see, if our guild get to rank 5 or above, we will get more 0.4% of legendary drop rates and increase epic rate to 10%, that's why i planned a strategy for the next weekly championship
Catluv: u nerd
Gloomurai: problem?
Catluv: i love nerds
Falling in love was getting too close to the sun, to permit your wings to melt and fall again to the ground. Idia repeated this many times, but he still felt tingling and yearning to the warmth of sunlight.
– 
He was done for.
r/relationshipadvice
u/GloomySamurai
I (18Ω) think I fell in love with an online friend (α)
We study in the same school, but never met face to face. I don't like going out of my room, sometimes I think I would like to go out and meet them. They are inviting me to hang out, especially now that they discovered that we are both students from the same place. How should I do that? I fear that they won't like what they see, if they know it's me.
u/AppleReaper
why would an alpha be forcing you out of your room? very loser behavior of them, red flag, stay safe OP
u/FlutheEmperor
Maybe you could invite them to your room if you don't want to go out at all?
u/Sheep1647
DO NOT invite them to your room, they are an alpha, you can never trust them in your place of vulnerability when you never met them personally, and you look distrustful of them, since you are afraid that they may stop being your friend if they met you, what do you think they won't like? Your personality? Appearance? If it's the latter they don't deserve any more time of your day, it's so superficial. A public place is always the safer choice INFO: do you have any trusted person to you that can vouch for their character? 
Idia felt like throwing up, he wanted to throw his phone across the room in rage. He was so close to doxxing all these people for saying unsavory things about your personality when they don't know you. You who stays with him until the moon turns to sun just because he didn't feel like sleeping, you who made him feel heard and cared even through the chat system of the guild or the occasional voice calls, you who always extended a hand to all your friends.
He should have thought better before seeking the opinion of reddit users, they are certainly more single than him!  The omega decided, he will meet you face to face and prove to all of them how wrong they are.
But still… he had one problem.
He didn't feel like he was good enough, not when he had unsavory feelings towards you. The dorm leader always felt eyes on him in the rare instances when he left his room, people talking behind back about his hair and personality. He hoped you would overlook his shortcomings. The omega hardly has the courage to face you!
Because you are beautiful, an otherworldly presence surrounds you, and a demeanor that would put prince charmings and enchanted princess alike to shame. Why would you choose a scrawny omega like him? it's unfathomable, he curses at himself, it's simply impossible for an alpha like you to become enamored with an omega like him, not when athletic omegas like Leona exist, or with ethereal beauties like Vil.
If you knew about the feelings deep inside him… how he wishes to be held in your embrace, to be the sole object of your affections, you would laugh at him! Deservedly so!
He knows he is not the best option, yet he couldn't help but hope. Idia spent his entire life drowning in a sea of voices, where his own went unheard even when he forced himself to go above the surface. He expected for you to be just one more tide that pushed him down, but it seems you cleared enough room for him to fit in your world.
– 
When Idia finally met you in real life, it was much more than he had expected.
His lungs flooded, having just online interactions rendered him unable to smell your scent, and now he wonders how he could have missed this in his life before. If he had any doubts about wanting you before, it turned to dust in a mere snap of a finger.
Falling in love was foolish, the hard ground is always the final destiny, yet Idia couldn't help but suspect that you would wait for him from below, arms ready to catch him before he gets hurt. If this is what falling in love means, he could accept that.
Growling
Idia is not much of an growler. Many of the Ignyhide students never heard him growl, much less the rest of NRC. This is not to say he doesn't growl, most of all, Idia is a passionate person about his hobbies and interests.
If there are people talking behind his back about his appearance or personality, he would most likely just ignore it - maybe give a sad whimper when he is alone in his nest. But doubting or thinking they are better than him in gaming and engineering? Idia will push the fiercest growl out of his throat.
Even when he is playing and in a difficult match, he rather keep himself quiet, otherwise the rumbling in his chest distract him.
Though in his personal opinion, even when he doesn't enjoy growling all that much, he thinks your growls are really hot.
If you are immersed in your own interests or defending his honor while growling, Idia is quietly chirping behind you.
Purring
As stated before, Idia rarely ever purrs. He used to do it more frequently before, when Ortho was still alive like any other being, but ever since the shock of his death Idia thought his purr box got broken.
During courting, he is still getting used to purring, many times pissing him off more than calming him down. But with time, he learns to accept as a part of himself.
Idia's purrs betray him sometimes, the omega gets easily embarrassed when you shower him with affection, he may try to hide himself behind a pillow or under a blanket, yet his purr box is working like a machine, satisfied to be receiving attention from his alpha.
Nesting
Idia has his nest covering his bed, a very big and warm nest. 90% of his day he is laying there. If he was asked to mention one quality of being an omega, he would for sure say nesting. For him, it's impossible to understand why betas and alphas do not indulge in nesting themselves.
He wants to share his happiness with you, so date nights are most of the times spent in his nest. Idia almost suffocates you with how many blankets he has, of so many kinds. Also, he prefers blankets than pillows, but he is open to introducing to his nest merchandise plushies from fandoms he is part of.
This omega is super insecure in your relationship, at least in the beginning of your relationship, so to reassure himself, he tries to make his room a second den for you, acquiring things he knows you'll like. Idia likes to imagine that his room is a den proper to keep the most prized possessions of his alpha - he wants to include himself in this category too.
And vice-versa, he wants to have permission to make nests in your own den.
Marking
Quite possessive, doesn't like to imagine other omegas looking at what is his.
At the same time, he doesn't want to appear overly clingy or do things these embarrassing couples do. But if he sees super cringe matching cups with "player 1”and "player 2” stamped, he is buying it without a second thought, in fact, he is not even having a first thought.
Also buys necklaces with both of your initials - he is what he judges the most.
Probably wants to scent mark you, but is too shy to suggest unless he is in a fit of jealousy. When this happens, besides his natural scent, the smell of bitterness and warning are glued to your skin. He'll be seen more often by your side, wearing one of your hoodies, until he calms down.
Omeganspace
Nail marks embed your arms and back, Idia doesn't want to let you go. A healthy blush flushes from his cheek to chest, and he nips your face and neck while chirping.
It's during these times that Idia is shameless to claim, he'll openly admit his desires and fears, holding you tightly and almost merging your bodies.
He would do it if he could, better yet, he wants to find a way to do so.
Idia have a selective hearing, he can be obedient and listen to you if he thinks his reward will be worth it. But if you suggest leaving to do any other activity? Suddenly it's like he does not have years at all and your arms are full of putty omega.
☽ ☼ ☾
“Are you finished yet?”
You murmur beside him, watching your own gaming PC that Idia installed in his room. Both of you were playing Stardew Valley, Idia's character was almost passing out from exhaustion after spending the day in the cave, while you decided to stay back and take care of the farm.
He wanted to laugh menacingly at the reddit users who deemed you untrustworthy, because look at you! being a perfect not-his-yet-alpha in game, taking the housework duties while he works hard to provide.
Yep, that's how it should be, Idia sees his future and it's bright - he should really turn down the brightness on his screen a little. 
“Hm,” and his character falls down, spawning in his own bed, a bed beside yours!
“I have a gift for you,” you giggle, urging him outside to meet you. “Close your eyes~”
Idia waits in front of your home and does what you asked. He can hear your steps as you approach, the sound coming from your computer as you mess with your hud.
“You can see now”
The omega opens his eyes, his face heats up and he inhales a deep breath. A marriage proposal pops up on his screen, your character with a mermaid pendant standing right before him.
As he glances to the side, he meets your gaze, an expectant look and a soft smile graces your features. With a hand gifting him an scented scarf, a proper courting gift, Idia can just think that you promise much more for the future.
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loveu2themoonandsaturn · 3 months ago
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“SLUT!”
loosely inspired by the taylor swift song.
steve harrington x fem!reader
a/n: tried to get the word count but I fear I lost track at 3k and that was maybe only the halfway point 😭 also sorry for the potentially shit formatting, I’ve never done this before and I typed the whole thing in the tumblr app. hope it doesn’t ruin the reading experience 😅 all credit for dividers goes to @strangergraphics!
angst, hurt/comfort, fluff(ish), no use of y/n, second person, office gossip, way past upside down but hawkins is still that same small town, very 80s/90s attitude toward sex, slutshaming, sort of miscommunication trope (more like meddling jackass trope) minor injury (no blood), reader is mentioned as having meat in her freezer and consumes dairy once, only kinda beta’d because every time I try I just end up ADDING THINGS, smut 18+ MDNI, filthier tags below.
contains: porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, protected piv fucking (girls we cannot afford children in this economy, wrap it before you tap it), soft pleasure dom!Steve, needy Steve who may or may not be real big on talking you through it, oral (m+f), fingering, some ball sucking, intimacy, love confessions (i’m sorry😭), eye contact, hickies like a motherfucker, no body type mentioned, no hair type or length mentioned, y’all prolly know most of the drill.
hope you enjoy! 🩵
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Steve swore he felt his soul leave this side of heaven when he felt a fist slam against the front desk of the Family Video, right next to where his head so happened to be resting, wrapped up in his own arms. Whoever just did that was about to hear a piece of his mind.
“Hey man, what the hell- oh. Hey,” He relaxes for a moment when he sees that it’s you, but only for just that moment.
Because then he sees your face.
Hot, angry tears are streaming stoically down your face from a pair of red, puffy eyes. He panics at the expression that paints the face he so adores.
His immediate instinct is to fix it.
“Baby, what’s wro—”
“Don’t you fucking call me baby right now,” you cut him off. Your voice is cold, almost devoid of emotion. It worries Steve. “Why would you say those things about me, why would you lie?”
Steve’s head is spinning now. Lies? Talking about you? Was he still asleep, dreaming? Had he accidentally shifted into another dimension? Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, slow down—”
You scoff. “I don’t believe that for a second. I believed you when you said you’d changed, that you weren’t that same douchebag we all knew back in high school,” you pause, throat catching on the lump nestled deep within it. “But I was wrong about that. I won’t make that mistake twice.”
Steve felt his heart shattering, and he didn’t even know why, didn’t understand what on earth was going on.
“Wait, no, I’m serious, I don’t know what we’re talking about here, please!” He’s desperate now, needs to know what he did, what transgression he forgot that he must now atone for.
“You expect me to believe you don’t know what your good friend Tommy got up to this morning?”
Tommy? Tommy Hagan? Steve hadn’t so much as spoken to that toxic jackass in years, what could he possibly have to do with anything-
“Because I walked into work today and was greeted by him, in front of all my coworkers, announcing that he had a gift for the new town whore,” you choke out, voice no longer cold, but bitter. Angry. Sad. “And he handed me what must have been the deadest, most rotten bouquet of flowers left from the supermarket, with a card. ‘To the SLUT, courtesy of King Steve,’” you say, voice raised enough to catch the attention of several now-nosy movie perusers.
Steve stands slack-jawed, floored at the mere thought. He wasn’t even sure how Tommy knew he was seeing you, let alone what he could have done to give him the impression that you had slept with him.
Unfortunately for Steve, you don’t take his silence for the shock that it is.
“Nothing to say for yourself? My reputation is in shreds, my boss won’t look me in the eye and my coworkers haven’t stopped whispering since 9 a.m., yet you have nothing to say for yourself?” you spit, incredulous.
Steve’s brain finally gets with the program and makes his mouth move.
“Honey, I didn’t know anything about this,” he pauses when you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I haven’t talked to Tommy since high school. I have changed, I’m not the person that I used to be, and even if I was still friends with Hagan’s sorry ass, I would never, ever lie about you like that. I like you. I care about you. I would never put that in jeopardy.”
Steve’s eyes are pleading, which you might notice if you could even bring yourself to meet them.
“God, Steve, please don’t treat me like I’m stupid-”
“I’m not, I’m not!,” he cuts you off. “I swear, I don’t know how he got that idea into his head, but I would never do that to you!” Steve is fighting the urge to raise his voice. You deserve his gentleness, even during a fight, he thinks. That gentleness is clearly not mutual, though, at least not right now.
“Is it because I said I wasn’t ready?” you say, voice at a low volume.
Steve feels his heart thud restlessly in his chest, hurt and pain lashing at the muscle.
“Wh… What?” He’s giving you an opportunity to back out, clarify, say you don’t mean what he thinks you mean. But you double down.
“Is Tommy doing this out of some weird bro-code respect for you because I said I wasn’t ready to have sex with you.” You ask it like it’s a statement, a sure thing, no real questioning to your tone.
He’s hit with a wave of this sick feeling in his stomach, this inescapable dread at the thought that you might believe even for a second that he would stoop that low. He swallows, a thick feeling as a lump in his own throat starts to make itself known.
“You really think that poorly of me?” he mutters out, pained.
You shake your head, tears falling faster now.
“I didn’t Steve. All my friends told me I was being stupid, too trusting of you, giving you too much benefit of the doubt, and I…” you prick your finger into your own chest, bone meeting bone as the digit presses into your sternum. “I told them they were crazy. That they were stuck in the past and that you were so different now. I defended you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle. “And look where that got me. Do you know what half the town will think by this time tomorrow? They’re gonna that I spread my legs for the first man to show interest in me, for the man who has a well-documented history of taking what he wants and leaving, and they’re going to think I’m pathetic and easy for it.” He’s never seen you like this. It’s agony.
“In a way… the truth is almost worse. Because I was stupid enough to let ‘King Steve’ come and pretend to be all sweet and gentlemanly and brand-spanking-new. I guess the punishment fits the crime, right? I believed you, and now nobody is gonna believe me.” You start to turn on your heel, halfway ready to walk out the door.
“Wait, wait!” Steve is frantic now. “I don’t know how this happened, but please, give me a chance, let me fix this for you,” he begs.
You squeeze your eyes shut, hands finally coming up to wipe away some tears so you can at least leave with some dignity.
“I don’t think this is something you can fix.”
And with that, the best thing in Steve’s life walks out the door.
Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. But it’s quickly replaced by rage, blinding anger that someone would do this to you. More anger yet that Tommy-fucking-Hagan of all people would crawl out of whatever hole he’s been living in to, to what? Ruin his chance at happiness with you since Carol dumped him the second she went away for college? Hurt you just for being associated with Steve and a better future, not his past? What the hell is this?
He’s dialing Robin’s number before he can even think straight, asking if she can do him a favor and stay the last hour at the store, close up. He mindlessly agrees to whatever condition it is she sets; he’s hardly paying attention, because now? Now he has business to attend to.
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The night is young, and Steve knew he’d luck out eventually by just going from filthy dive bar to filthy dive bar. After all, there were only so many places in Hawkins where a burnout could go to delude himself into thinking he’s not there to drown his sorrows.
It’s at the fifth one that he lays eyes on Tommy, looking worse for wear. He’s surrounded by a couple other guys that walk and talk and dress like Steve used to in high school, Tommy’s obvious attempt at replacing him. He almost wonders if he’ll find a pseudo-Carol somewhere in the crowd, waiting to dote on him.
Steve overhears Tommy talking, who clearly does not know he’s even been found and is being watched.
“I mean, you guys should have seen the look on her face. Harrington’s girl was basically a puddle, I guess she knew she got caught. You know what they say, though boys—”
“Yeah? What is it they say, Tommy?” Steve’s sudden interruption brings a mix of shock and satisfied jeers among the little crowd. Tommy turns whistles, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.
“Well look what the cat dragged in! Big King Steve back from his latest conquest. What’s wrong, your girl can’t handle the consequences of her own actions?”
Steve’s jaw gets tight at that; he’s trying damn hard to maintain some semblance of control. All he can think about is how bad he wants to punch that smirk off Tommy’s face.
“And just what do you think you know about her, huh Hagan? Or did that half semester of college give you time to get into shitty creative writing?” Steve grits out.
“Oh, please Harrington, don’t act like half the town didn’t see you two heading into your place this weekend. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together,” Tommy says, cocky as ever.
A moment of realization hits Steve then. He had brought you to his house, at night, and you two were alone. He’d let you sleep in the guest room when it got too late. It never even occurred to him that someone was watching, let alone would assume something went down between the two of you and spread that assumption around.
He feels like such a fucking idiot.
He knows this town, knows these people. They love nothing more than a scandal. Something to gossip about. He should have been more careful with you. His own anger with himself turns into rage at the sorry excuse for a man now standing before him.
“You’re such goddamn dumbass, Hagan. She’s not a whore, a slut, an anything. She slept in the guest bedroom, and she only spent the night in the first place because I said it was too late to drive her home.”
Tommy and his gaggle of trust fund babies, one of whom surely paid for the flattening beer he takes a swig from, all elbow each other, exchanging knowing glances.
But they don’t know shit, Steve thinks.
“Listen, Harrington, it’s cute that you want to ‘defend her honor,’” Tommy mocks, “But at the end of the day, nobody in this town was born yesterday. I’m sorry her feelings got hurt just because people noticed how easy she is, but that’s how it i- what the fuck dude??”
Tommy is cut off quickly and finds the edge of the bar jamming into his spine, with Steve Harrington having rushed in and wrapped his fists into Tommy’s shirt collars.
“She is anything but easy, you son of a bitch,” Steve seethes, pushing Tommy back again for emphasis. “Six months we’ve been dating, and I haven’t touched her. You know why that is? Because I actually give two shits about her, I have respect for her, something you’re not capable of doing or having for anybody.”
Tommy is thrown off guard, but quickly recovers, slapping that smirk right back on his face. Steve decides then and there that he hates that smirk.
“Listen buddy. We all remember your track record when it comes to anything that involves fists,” Tommy sneers. “Unless you wanna get your ass handed to you, I suggest letting me go. It’s not like anyone would believe she’s the choir girl you want us to think she is.”
Steve laughs, the sound dark. He laughs, and that confuses the hell out of Tommy and his crew.
“Maybe you peaked in high school and forgot that other people grow past who they were at 18, but the rest of us didn’t. So if I were you? I’d get to work fixing this shit, unless you want to have to fix your goddamn teeth, buddy,” Steve says, his threat only cushioned slightly by his sarcastic remark.
“Like hell I will,” Tommy yells before shoving Steve off. He swings, and color quickly blooms across the apple of Steve’s left cheek. “Now get the fuck out of h-”
Tommy doesn’t get to finish. Or do much of anything, really.
With one solid, square hit to the chin, Steve lays Tommy out, leaving him with nothing more than a sure concussion and a nice sticky spot on the bar floor to come to on.
Tommy’s herd of friends stand in stunned silence, a strong juxtaposition from their earlier mindless chittering. It’s satisfying, if Steve is honest with himself.
Steve steps closer to them, causing a few of them to back off, clearly not wanting to be next.
“When he wakes up, you tell your little friend here to fix the mess he made, and that if I so much as have to hear someone utter his name again for the rest of my life, I’m coming back and beating his ass, and next time I won’t stop once he’s on the ground. Oh, and make sure he leaves me and my girl alone, yeah?”
Something about Steve’s energy is enough to have them nodding, no questions asked.
Steve storms out of the bar, only one mission left for the day.
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You’re home in your apartment, taking your feelings out on a bowl of ice cream and watching Pretty in Pink for what must be the ninth time, when you hear knocking at your door.
You find yourself wondering who the hell would be knocking at this hour, only irked at the possibilities running through your head.
You’re already yelling through to the person on the other side as you make your way to the door.
“I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling and I already know Jesu- Oh.”
You swing open the door to find none other than Steve Harrington, looking a lot more bruised than the last time you saw him.
Both of his eyes look apologetic, pitiful, and the quickly forming mark beneath his left one certainly isn’t helping your resolve.
You have the urge to kick him to the curb, but find that, in spite of what you believe he did, you didn’t leave your feelings for him at the doors of the Family Video when your hightailed it out of there earlier that day.
So that’s how you get here, with Steve sitting on your kitchen counter, right fist squishing into a bag of frozen peas, left hand pressing a freezer-burnt steak into the respective cheek. Your movie is forgotten, frozen in time, and what remained of the ice cream has been left to melt.
You’re silent, plaid pajama pants and your softest T-shirt hanging on to your form, only shielded somewhat by the fuzzy robe that sits open, mostly just draped around your shoulders. As you lean against your fridge, you take a long sip from your mug, warm liquid soothing as you fight to break the silence, the tension that seems to suffocate the room.
You don’t ask where those bruises came from. Curious as you are, you find you’re not sure if you really want to know. However, you’re not left to wonder for long.
“I’m pretty sure I put Tommy Hagan in the emergency room tonight.”
Your eyes nearly fall out of your head with how wide they get, head snapping up when he says that.
“I, um, got real pissed when you told me what he did to you, and I went from bar to bar until I found him. I told him to fix it, and he acted like it was some big joke, and I was just seeing red, but in my defense, he hit me first,” he rambles, gesturing vaguely to the slowly thawing slab of meat currently taking up half the real estate on his face.
You continue to stare at him, bug-eyed and unmoving. Steve finds himself unable to stop talking under your gaze.
“He said he or, someone, I guess, saw you come into my house the other night and never leave and so they like? Assumed the rest, and I’m sorry, because I definitely should have thought about how it might look before offering you the guest bed, or I should have taken you home, or I should have slept on the goddamn sidewalk so it was incredibly clear nothing was going on but I didn’t so I told him, or I guess I told his friends to pass along the message, to fix it and he was just out cold on the floor of the bar and I-”
“Steve.”
He finally stops, looking at you. He sees tears welling up in your eyes and immediately assumes it was something he said. He starts to apologize, but you hold up a hand, shaking your head.
“I just can’t believe you would do that for me,” you mutter, at a loss for words.
Steve, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, says, “I mean, of course. You’re my girl and someone was mean to you. I’m crazy about you, why would I let anyone hurt you just to take you away from me?” He cocks his head when he asks, eyes innocent. “And I mean, it doesn’t hurt that Tommy is the biggest jackass in all of Indiana and has been earning that knockout since we were like, 16,” he laughs out.
For a moment, the cognitive dissonance is winning out. You’d fought with yourself all day about the kind of person Steve Harrington is. Who, until very recently, he always was. All day, you’d let the voices of high school friends permeate your head, losing trust in your gut, in your own instincts, in what you thought and believed. You had yourself convinced that you’d allowed yourself to be blinded, had just wanted the attention, the affection, and that Steve had never ever changed, just got better at hiding it. But maybe the truth wasn’t so simple.
A tear falls. In assuming he had broken your trust, had you broken his?
You know it’s not your fault. Not really. That blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of a loser who’s going to have to explain to a less-than-nice nurse just why he came through the doors of the emergency room with a concussed head and a dislocated jaw.
But you fell for it. A few mean looks, some workplace gossips whispering in the break room, and you fell right into Tommy’s trap. Hook, line, sinker.
What was it that made you so easily believe the worst of the man who has, throughout your relationship, shown you nothing but affection and kindness?
Guilt gnaws at you, because you think you know.
“I’m so sorry for not believing you. And for all the things I said earlier. I was… I was cruel. I was mean and defensive and let some pseudo-high school drama put me right back in that place mentally, put you right back to who you were in my mind, and that was unfair. I was punishing you for your past, and you didn’t deserve that,” you say, looking over at Steve now.
But Steve is having none of it.
“I spent years being the worst version of myself to everyone around me whose pants I wasn’t trying to get into. I was vindictive and, sometimes? Flat out evil toward people who weren’t high enough up on the social ladder for me. If I had been in your position, I would have thought the same thing, because I have thoroughly earned that reputation. I don’t expect you to get rid of that past version of me in your head. I know you can’t just forget. You’re only human.”
He slides off the counter, frozen goods abandoned as he crosses over to you where you lean and looks you in your eyes.
“It’s my job to make up for it. To prove I’ve changed. That’s not trust that forms easily, it’s hard earned, and I intend to do everything I can to win it fair and square. To earn the right to be yours.”
You feel heat burn behind your cheeks at his sweet words. “So does that mean you forgive me for being a real bitch to you in front of customers today?”
Steve laughs, the sound jovial and refreshing after the day you’ve had.
“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to forgive, but how ‘bout I say all is forgiven if you can forgive me for being a huge dumbass?” His lopsided grin and the way he’s looking at you, all heart eyes and pure adoration… all of it is too much, too good, and all you can do is nod, a small, hopeful smile on your face.
“Good. Now, would’ya c’mere and let me comfort you? Let me take care of my girl after the shitty day she had?” He holds his arms open to you, hands waving you in.
You roll your eyes just a bit before giving in, immediately accepting the familiarity and warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. You’re so glad he’s still your boyfriend.
He kisses the top of your head and lets your face press into his chest, allowing his own heartbeat to soothe you as he holds one arm firmly around your waist, letting the other rub a flat palm up and down your back.
“Sweet girl, you didn’t deserve how they treated you today…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear. “Only deserve good things… gonna give you all the good things to make up for it, yeah?”
The sheer relief you feel being here, with him uttering sweet nothings into your ear and treating you like the you’re the only thing that matters in the whole wide world, it makes up for it all, you think. Maybe tomorrow will be hard, maybe people at work will still suck, but you won’t be facing it alone. You’ll have Steve. That feels like enough.
You let yourself peek out from where you’d tucked yourself in so you can look up at this wonderful man who did so much today to prove that he’s not who everyone thinks he is. He looks back down at you and just smiles, staring into your eyes.
It may have been less than a day.
But, God, you had missed him.
So you indulge yourself, removing one of the arms from around his body and placing a hand far back on his neck, just enough to be able to run your fingers softly through the short pieces at the base, brushing your thumb along his jawline.
His smile falters for just half a second, replaced by the shivers you give him.
Encouraged by his reaction, you don’t hold back, using your hand as leverage to drag his face into yours for a sweet kiss. Your lips lock, and neither one of you moves away or lets go until the need for oxygen wins out. It’s stupid and sappy and exactly what you needed.
When you do finally have to let go, you’re both breathing hard, but Steve still finds it in him to make a suggestion.
“I think I left some sweats and a T-shirt here back when I helped you move in that new couch,” he gestures to the spot where you had just been wallowing, “How ‘bout I change and we get comfortable on the couch and you tell me every thought on that pretty little mind?”
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You two do exactly that. He’s pleasantly surprised to find you’d laundered the very clothes he’d left over, something you shyly justified with the possibility that he might get stuck and need to spend the night, a concept which clearly flustered you to no end.
So there you are, curled up in Steve’s arms, same paused movie frame still on the TV, and you just rant about your day.
“…And if all of that wasn’t enough, she had the nerve to whisper one last snickering ‘whore’ to me on my way out! I don’t know where she gets off, especially since it was just last month that everyone heard she got caught sneaking out of the supply closet with the assistant manager!” Steve chuckles at that, “But it just sucked! I don’t mind being the center of attention, but good grief, not like this! These people are like vultures! It made me sad and mad and just a bunch of other things and it was ridiculous because it was all for something I didn’t even do!” you finish, Steve pressing comforting kisses into your temple.
“That’s just not right, honey. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says.
You lean into his chaste kisses, hands playing with his fingers where they sit clasped in your lap.
“I just… it’s ridiculous. I mean, half the reason I told you I wasn’t ready for sex was because I was so anxious, so terrified that somehow people would know and then they would judge me for it,” you shake your head. “And I know, that’s like bullshit, but it’s where my head was at. Today though? All I could think to myself all day was, I wish I would have just done it. I didn’t do anything and they still talked all their shit. If I’m going to be called a slut, a whore, easy, I should at least have gotten something out of it. Give ‘em something real to talk about, make the their bullshit worthwhile,” you muse. “Maybe I still should.”
You’re so lost in those musings that you barely notice the way Steve is staring at you, wondering if he’s had a stroke.
“What do you mean?” he says, certain he’s misheard.
He definitely knows what you mean. Being called on it, however, has you almost backtracking, your face so hot now he would surely get burned if he touched it.
You don’t look him in the eye, instead appearing very focused on each individual finger on his hands as they sit in your lap. You’re unfortunately noticing that he takes very good care of his nails, keeping them short and clean, perfect for— Stop that, you chide yourself, finally responding to your boyfriend, who is maybe having an aneurism behind you.
“I mean, just… it’s so stupid, the only reason I didn’t do something that I really wanted to do was because I was worried what people would say about me. That all seems pretty moot now so, I dunno… maybe we should… do it… sometime,” you mumble out, not sure if you’re embarrassed more by your seriously weird concerns about the opinions of others or the fact that you’re all but asking Steve to have sex with you.
Steve is not thinking about either option, though, being ever the opportunist.
“I would take you right now.”
Maybe you’re the one having that stroke?
You whip your head around and look at him, that same hungry look, the one he always gets when the two of you make out for just a liiiiiiittle bit too long, now gracing his face.
You whisper out, “Are you serious?”
He nearly scoffs at that. “I don’t play games when it comes to you,” a phrase that has a more than one meaning after his bar-side activities this evening, “I’ll always wait for your yes, and I’ll always stop at your no but… for that time in between? I’m making love to you like it’s my last day on earth.”
Your breath hitches, something deep within you warming and stirring at his words.
“Can I tell you something, Steve?”
“Always, gorgeous.”
You gulp.
“You’ve got my yes.”
Suddenly, you’ve been moved. You’re laying on your back on your couch and your very gorgeous boyfriend has one leg between your thighs, holding your face between both hands as his spine arches over your body and leans his face toward your face so he can kiss the air right out of your lungs.
You two had made out before but compared to this? Jesus H.
You hear the sound of your own soft whine as he readjusts and the movement presses his strong thigh firmly against your core. You watch as he breaks the kiss just to groan, already so satisfied, so intoxicated by you.
“That’s right pretty girl, just let yourself feel good, I’m gonna take care of everything, gonna take real good care of you,” he rambles, eyes squeezed shut as he nods at nobody in particular.
“You want that, baby? You gonna let me make you feel like you deserve?” He forces his eyes open to stare at you. Good God. You nod, another desperate sound that could maybe pass for a “Yes” pressing its way out of your chest.
“Atta girl,” he says before tearing his own shirt off, the garment landing somewhere on your living room floor.
He pushes his fingers beneath the fabric of the robe you’re still wearing, slowly slipping it off of you, saying, “Now anything you don’t want me to do, anything you want me to stop, you let me know, yeah? Let me hear you, baby.”
The robe is quickly abandoned beneath you as you all but blubber out a “Yeah, yes, Steve, I will.”
He stands up, leaving you confused for a moment.
“I’m not doing this with you for the first time on your couch. C’mon, sweet thing, up,” he says, reaching for your hands.
You take his and let him lead you to your own bedroom, shutting the door behind the two of you despite your living alone. In a way, it’s perfect, isolated in a way that makes you feel like it’s just you and him.
He turns to you, walking up to your form and kissing you again, his hands reclaiming their space on the sides of your face. You’re sure you’ll never get tired of that feeling.
His kisses last long, but almost not enough, his lips moving down to your jaw, your neck, searching for that spot that makes you—
“Oh, fuck, Steve.”
Found it.
He hones in on the spot, kissing and licking at it gently. His aim isn’t to leave a mark — not here, anyway — but just to make you feel good.
By the way you’re panting in his ear? He’s pretty sure he’s succeeding.
He walks you backwards, careful, only detaching himself from your neck to help lay you down gently. He crawls over top of you, his body caging yours.
Your shirt has ridden up, revealing a touch of midriff to Steve. It only makes him more feral.
He plays with the hem of your shirt, warm fingers brushing against the skin below.
“Can I take this off for you?” he asks.
You’re nodding, already moving to help him strip the fabric from your form. You weren’t wearing a bra because, truly, why would you be wearing one in your own home, so his eyes are free to land right on your chest and watch the soft jiggling as you breathe in and out.
You had worried that he might pick out spots on your body that made you insecure, but that worry flies out the window when you see that same hungry look back in his eyes.
Frankly, he looks so desperate, you almost feel bad.
“It’s okay, Steve, do what you want. I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t like it,” you say, encouraging him.
You truly do not have to tell him twice.
First he’s kissing that spot on your neck again, earning a breathy sigh and a pleased smile from your lips. Then he travels, lips attaching to your collarbone, and you feel it as he kisses his way down to your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth, thumb rubbing over the other one as his tongue works at this one.
That earns a good bit more than a sigh.
“Holy shit, Steve… that feels so, ah,” your voice grows pitchy as you bite back your moans. Your refusal to let him hear you doesn’t bother him one bit. It just means he has to work harder to pull those pretty sounds from you.
He switches his lips to your other breast, mouth laving messily over this nipple as his other thumb slips and slides across the one he just left.
You already feel so good, but you know he’s just getting started. The thought makes you shiver.
Once he’s satisfied with the attention he’s given to your nipples, he expands his journey across the map of your skin and starts sucking at the underside of your breasts, leaving marks only you and he will ever get to see. Whichever breast he’s not busy leaving darkening splotches on is being squeezed and squished, only adding to the feelings that all seem to be directed right at your quickly-soaking cunt.
Having left you littered with marks, some even landing on your torso and the soft skin of your belly, Steve looks up at you, lips swollen and wet from his hard work.
“Please say I can go down on you,” he sighs out, sounding like he’s in another world.
You balk at that for a moment, worried.
“You don’t have to Steve, I know guys don’t really like-”
“I want to. So, so fucking bad. I want to make you feel good and I need to taste you or I might actually explode. I don’t care how you keep it or what it looks like, I just, fuck!” His voice is pleading, his desire bleeding through every syllable.
He takes his kisses down to your hips, pushing your sweatpants and panties down just a touch to reveal more of your entirely-too-kissable body. He’s sucking at the thin skin there, leaving his mark on yet another inch of you.
“Please baby, if you want it, please let me,” he whines out, an incredibly sweet and needy sound.
Well shit. Who are you to say no to that?
“Okay, yeah, yes, you can, Steve,” you rush out, turned on beyond belief.
“God, yes, that’s my girl,” he mutters out, not even pausing to consider the effect those words are having on you.
You’d find it inconsiderate if it didn’t make you want him so much more.
His fingers are quick to hook back into both your bottoms, tapping the side of your hip so you’ll lift them as he all but tears the clothing from your legs. He easily spreads your now-bare limbs, eyes laser-focused on the absolutely sopping wet pussy that he unveils.
“Holy shit… is this all because of me?” he questions, experimentally sliding a finger through your folds, gathering your slick.
You laugh, breathless. “Have we been in the same room this whole time? I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.”
His dick has been hard for a hot minute now, so that confession earns an almost painful twitch.
He can’t find it in himself to ask any more questions, just sliding your pretty thighs over his shoulder, kissing them as he makes his way down to where you need him most.
The first lick is thorough, but gentle. A trembling whimper leaves your lips, then the sound of his name.
He finds himself moaning at your taste, desperation to drink you in winning out.
He presses his tongue right into your waiting hole, occasional moans against you earning him yet another flood of your juices to taste, a tantalizing squeeze of your walls around him only complimenting the flavor.
He moves to lap at your folds, greedy, head only coming to a stop once he’s got the flat of his tongue rubbing circles over your clit. You finally lose the battle you’d been fighting, letting out a moan that makes you thankful your last next door neighbor just moved out last week.
Steve, cheeky as ever, smiles at this, hot breath from a laugh billowing past his tongue and onto you. He’s almost too good at this.
He gives thick, teasing licks to your clit, each one serving as punctuation as he talks to you.
“Best fucking pussy… Fuck… could eat this pretty pussy… mm… for the rest of my life… so good,” he murmurs, absolutely drunk on you.
“Steve…” you whine out, needing him so badly it nearly hurts.
“Oh, darlin’, I know,” Lick. “I know, pretty girl,” Lick. “Just need’ya,” Lick. “To be patient for me,” Lick. “Doing so good,” Lick. “Making me so proud.”
He picks right then to properly dive in, licking and sucking on you until you can hear your own heartbeat, feel it in your throat. The sounds you make for him are downright debauched, curses and expletives floating in between the sound of his name. He couldn’t be happier.
You’ve been clenching around nothing for some time now as been pleasuring you, though, and that doesn’t sit right with him.
So, before you know it, Steve is working one, then two fingers into your dripping heat, reaching farther inside of you than you ever could. Your hands quickly seat themselves among the roots of his hair, holding his head exactly where you want him.
Your cries ring out freely through the air, a weak, “I’m so close,” the only interruption. Your thighs have begun to squeeze around Steve’s head. He’s not sure if you’re trying to keep him there forever or shut him out but, it’s all the same to him. He’d happily wear you like a pair of earmuffs for the rest of the night. Best damn pair he ever owned, if he did say so himself.
He holds steady with his actions, moving his fingers just so inside you, repeating the same motion of his tongue against your clit until it hurts, but he’s well rewarded for his efforts.
“Oh, fuck, Steve, I think I’m… fuck, I’m gonna—” you’re forced to cut yourself off as an orgasm overtakes your body, pouring pounds of pleasure over you all at once like one of those giant buckets at a water park. It’s electric, overwhelming, and so, so good. Your moans lilt out, high pitched and shaped something like Steve’s name.
He works you through it; he doesn’t stop until you peel his head from between your legs, pulling him up for a kiss that leaves you both lightheaded, exchanging moans between each others mouths as your bodies press together. You can taste yourself on him, something you didn’t expect to make you as feral as it does.
Steve breaks the kiss, sitting back on his knees to admire his handiwork. Gorgeous, angry little hickies have already begun to bloom beneath your satin skin. He’s excited for the day they fade so he can go back and replace them.
You watch him, laying breathless while he ogles you with a smirk, scanning your body up and down to appreciate the beautiful mess he’s made of it.
It makes you decide that payback may be due.
Steve stands, ridding himself of his bottoms, hard cock swinging free. You can’t help but think to yourself how pretty he is, how unfair it is that he’s so pretty everywhere.
You move to get up on your knees in front of Steve where he stands next to the bed, kissing his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his—
“Wait, wait, baby, wait,” he stops you mid-descent. “As hot as it is that you want to return the favor, I don’t think I’ll last and I really, really need to be inside you.”
It’s your turn to smirk now, but before you do, you turn those same pleading eyes he weaponized against you right back at him.
“Please, Stevie? I’ll be gentle, I’ll go real slow,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.
He presses his palms into his eyes, losing the fight for control going on in his head.
“…Fuck, just please be careful, no funny business, yeah?” he sighs out, looking down at you.
You let on that smirk now, and finish kissing your way down his body, laying on your stomach. Your tongue just barely teases the tip, a small kitten lick that grants you a drop of precum. He tenses at the feeling, sheer pleasure already making him regret his own weakness toward you. It’s all he can do not to blow his load at just the idea of what’s going on right now.
Gently, you place a hand beneath his dick, feeling the weight of it, your mouth watering. You wrap your fingers around it, careful not to use too much pressure. You look him in the eye as you pull just the head into your mouth, moaning around him.
“You’re gonna kill me, holy shit,” Steve says.
You giggle a bit, moving your mouth up and down just a bit, cautious of any sudden movements that might prove too overwhelming.
“Feels too good baby, won’t be able to keep going like this,” he pants, sensitive and whining.
You pull off of him with a soft pop. “Compromise, then?”
He’s not sure what you mean until-
“Jesus fucking Christ baby, holy shit, shit, shit!” Steve is fighting for his life at the sight of you softly stroking his cock with one of his balls pulled securely into your mouth.
You can tell by that reaction and by the purely distraught look on his face that he won’t let you stay down here for much longer, so you make the most of it.
You suck gently, continuing to stroke. You switch to the other side, but not without licking a fat stripe from his base to his tip, earning a strangled noise of pleasure.
“God, you’re cruel,” he whimpers out, unable to contain his own soft moans and sighs as you work.
Steve feels himself getting a little closer than he’d like. “Alright, that’s enough of that for you, missy,” he says as he pulls away from your touch, laughing at the noise of protest you make as he does.
“Don’t worry darlin’, just lay back for me,” he says, walking over to the jeans he had discarded earlier.
You do as he says with only a slight grumble, but can’t help yourself as you watch Steve walk. Even his ass is pretty, you think as you watch him bend over and pull out his wallet, plucking a foil packet from its confines.
He turns around then, and you’ve been caught staring.
Steve smirks when you rush to meet his eyes, feigning nonchalance. “Perv,” he teases before getting back into the bed with you.
You’d protest, but then his hands, those hands, are working deftly to unwrap a condom and roll it on, and suddenly you find yourself entirely uninterested in your status as a pervert.
He crawls back on top of you, moving to kiss you softly, a sharp contrast to the intensity of the moments you two just shared.
He breaks it only to say three words: “I love you.”
Forehead pressed into his, you know you should be shocked, but you aren’t. It feels right. You tell him, too.
“I love you, Steve.”
He smiles at you dopily, and you’re sure a matching smile adorns your face.
“Are you ready, baby?” He asks, interlocking one of his hands with yours, nothing but adoration and loving concern in his eyes.
You nod. “I want this, I want you,” you tell him honestly.
Steve presses one last sweet kiss to your lips, selfishly savoring the taste of them for just a little too long. He breaks it with a sigh. “I’ll go slow at first, sweetheart. You let me know if you need me to stop.”
You hum in agreement, focus resting between the two of you where he’s got your legs spread, kneeling in between them as he guides his cock to your entrance.
Slowly, almost too slowly, he pushes himself in, both of you groaning in relief when the head is in. He presses forward, meeting little resistance from your slippery heat. He sighs happily once he’s seated in you fully, just enjoying being enveloped in your warmth.
He probably would have stayed there if it wasn’t for the wiggle of your hips and the sudden clench he felt from inside of you.
“You can move, Stevie. Need it,” you sigh.
He takes the instruction, and both of you are wrecked as he works into a rhythm.
Your eyes flutter shut as you moan, but that won’t do for Steve.
“Nuh uh,” he says, dropping the hand he’s holding and getting down, shifting his weight to his elbows so he can hold your face in his hands. “Eyes on me. I don’t want to miss a thing.” His tone urges your compliance, so you give it to him, looking into his eyes.
Fuck.
The way your eyes bore into each others is nearly too much, the feeling of his hands splayed across your cheeks, your jaw, your temple… your senses are being flooded, and all your brain can compute is Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.
He can see every reaction you give him, every hitch of your breath, adjusting until he’s in the perfect position for you, the squeezes of your fluttering cunt driving him wild.
You’re helpless, being held captive by your own pleasure, and Steve is only adding to it, talking to you in ramblings of his own pleasure.
“God, you know what you’re fucking doing to me?”
“Feels so good, sweet girl. Never wanna fuck another pussy again, only yours.”
“That’s it, baby, take it, take it. Doing so well for me, my gorgeous girl.”
“You like that? That feel good? Oh, I bet it does, huh?”
“Taking me like a champ, always knew you’d be good for me.”
You want to respond, you really do, but the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s pounding into you just right, the way he’s looking you right in your eyes as he speaks this utter filth, has left you wordless, only moaning and whining out little ah, ah, ah, fuck’s that only spur him on.
You feel your undoing start to form and begin to reach down, needing some attention on your clit to cross there.
“Don’t do that baby, let me. You close?” he says as he shifts all of his weight now to the one elbow, keeping your face in that hand as the other snakes down to rub circles just where you need them, making you whimper, fighting to keep your eyes open.
You nod at his question. “So close… gonna make me cum again, Stevie,” you manage to get out, snaking your arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.
His eyes never leave yours. “Tell me what you need. Wanna feel you when you cum, feel you soak my cock.”
“F-faster.”
You barely get the word out before he starts to nearly double his speed, desperate to get you there, sharp, shallow, fast thrusts leaving you to just wail.
“Oh, fuck, Steve, please, please, fuck, please,” you ramble out, unsure what you’re begging for.
“C’mon, give it to me, you’re right there, cum for me.”
The perfect circles on your clit, the pistoning of his hips, the way he stares at you so intensely, egging you on? It all proves to be too much, and you feel yourself thrown off that cliff and into pure, sweet pleasure as your release rolls through you, Steve’s name on your tongue.
Steve cants into you desperately, rhythm breaking as he chases his own high, which is coming on much faster largely because of you. Feeling you grip him like a vice, and having watched just how angelic you look when you cum? He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.
Overstimulated and desperate, you start to egg him on the same way he had egged you on.
“Please, cum, Steve, I wanna feel it. Need to feel you finish so bad, feels too good, please, baby,” you breathe out. “Do it just for me, yeah?”
That’s a wrap for Steve. His thrusts grow lazy as you feel him twitch inside you, condom filling quickly with his load. He keeps thrusting until it hurts, only then settling down, pressing his forehead into yours, kissing all over your face gently as you both bask in the afterglow.
“You’re so perfect,” he mutters, his desperation for you to hear him, believe him, making his expression look almost pained as he squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s always gonna be you for me, you know that?”
You’re unsure how to respond, really. You find yourself so wrapped up in a warm, buzzy feeling, your adoration for him leaking all over your brain’s wiring, causing it to short circuit. So all you do is nod and close the distance between your mouths, giving him a kiss so gentle and loving that catches him in the moment. He wishes he could stay like this forever.
You both fight to end the kiss several times, but each time either of you pulls back even a little bit, you find yourselves pressing right back in for just one more.
When it finally does break, you look up at him and see the man you always knew, deep down, was here to stay. Your Steve.
“Thank you.”
He cocks his head. “You’re welcome, but what for?” Ever the gentleman.
“Just for being you.”
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The two of you lay on your couch, Pretty in Pink over and quickly exchanged for When Harry Met Sally, an appropriately raunchy film for present company and previous activities.
You called out of work for the next day shortly after the two of you finally peeled out of bed. Steve had wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing soft encouraging kisses into your neck, your back, your shoulder as you rang your boss. You didn’t care if they thought you were only calling out because you were embarrassed; you know the truth doesn’t matter to these people, so you won’t waste it on them. All you want to do tomorrow is spend the day with your boyfriend, so you decided that that is what you’re going to do.
So there the you are, curled up in Steve’s arms for the foreseeable future, lips occasionally pressing into his wrists and hands as you held them. He hadn’t bothered with putting his shirt back on, and you let your robe sit where the two of you had ditched it earlier in favor of the warmth radiating from the chest against your back.
Sally fakes her orgasm in the diner, earning a laugh from both of you.
“I’m sure glad that I don’t ever have to question if you actually came,” Steve mutters, prompting you to tease.
“About that…”
“Bullshit!”
You giggle as his arms squeeze you in tighter, his lips attacking the side of your face and neck.
“Alright, alright, I yield, I yield! You are a true man in a sea of boys, you had me coming like a freight train, you win!”
His attack softens, smiley kisses becoming more intentional. He doesn’t let go of his now-tightened hold on you, though. He just likes having you close too much.
Steve mutters into your ear, shaking you gently in his arms to make his point. “I meant what I said earlier, you know. It wasn’t in the heat of the moment, I do love you.”
Somehow you find yourself far more flustered when he says that to you with his clothes on, but you know you feel the same.
“And I love you, Steve. Thank you for everything you did for me today… and I do mean everything,” you say, only a bit cheeky.
He nips at your ear, but still says, “Anytime, pretty girl. Anytime.”
You turn just a bit, hands tracing over his bruised knuckle and face, worry forming behind your eyes, just a small frown playing at your lips.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to try to cover those up for you? A quick run to the pharmacy and I’m sure I could find what I need to color correct,” you muse, but Steve just shakes his head.
“Nah, I kinda dig them. Makes me look a little badass! If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them they should see the other guy,” he pauses, but then says, quietly, “Plus, it’s pretty much like a shining badge of having defended your honor. Why would I ever cover that?” There’s a teasing tone behind his words but you can tell he really means it.
“Alright. You’re sweet. But please defend my honor without fists next time, I don’t want to have to look Hopper in the eye when I bail you out.”
“No promises, sweetheart,” he says, mischievous. You can hear his grin.
You roll your eyes, but you still smile.
You think you could get used to a life like this.
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Thank you for reading! 🩵
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ezisregrettinglifedecisions · 3 months ago
Text
How are you not dead yet? - MV1/33
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Pairing - Fem! Dutch Olympic Rugby Player! Reader x Max Verstappen Warnings - Probably wrong terms of endearment in Dutch and like one maybe two swear words Type - Written Fic Word Count - 1.2k Summary - Max and Y/n always call each other before and after their races and matches. Y/n unfortunately has a knack for ending up mildly hurt. Links - My main masterlist is here And as it is a part of my F1 x Olympics series, the masterlist is here
Requests are open <3 Hope you enjoy it! 💙 P.s the lion is me because my neck is actually so done for
P.p.s I am so sorry this is so late. I've been so busy and had very little motivation. But thank you for bearing with me if you followed me for this xx you're very appreciated xx
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You were sat by your phone waiting for Max to pick up. It rang twice before his voice rang out from the speaker.
“Pre race call. Checking in copy?” You let out a small laugh at the tradition of answering your calls like a radio message.
“Loud and clear Maxie. Whatever would I do without my pre race call.” You were sat on your bed in the Olympic village, one of your teammates smiling as she leaves the room noticing the phone call. “I'm fully unpacked before you ask, been here for an age already but my laptop is set-up and I've got some of the build-up on now. Let's hope Spa gives us some luck.”
From the other side of the phone you could hear Max laugh. 
“Schatje, you've got your first match tomorrow, You shouldn't be watching me race, you should be doing some final prep.”
“But someone needs to cheer for you and annoy every one of their teammates with the excessive cheering and yelling during race weekends.” You smiled to yourself thinking about the times that you had one of Max's races on while with your family last year only for them to tell you that you had to quiet down a bit due to the 'excessive yelling and crying'.
“I know liefje, there's no point even trying to get you to change your mind. I love you, I've got to go get into the car.” 
Although you were slightly disappointed that you couldn't talk for longer, you knew that you both had things you needed to get on with. 
“Okay Max. Have a wonderful race! Stay safe baby. I love you!”
“I love you more”
You smiled and hung up immediately making sure to turn on the volume on the laptop to hear the commentators. Twenty minutes later and the cars were out on track for the formation lap and you were sat very comfortably in front of your laptop holding onto the small stuffed lion that you had brought with you hidden in the depths of your suitcase. 
“Come on baby you’ve got this.”
You knew he was incredibly far back, P11 was not the most ideal result from qualifying but the penalty was inevitable after having to change some of the car components. The lights went out and you watched the race gripping onto the small lion tightly throughout the turns and battles. 
When the end came, the lion was certainly glad as noted by the fact that there was no longer stuffing in his poor limp neck, and so were you, very happy to see that Max had managed to fight his way back up to P4, and while it was not P1, neither of you could be happier with the result as the phone rung as soon as Max was available.
“P4 baby!” You declared excitedly into the phone as soon as the call had connected. “I’m so proud of you schat!” 
His happy face filled the screen, a smile proudly on his face. “Someones happier than I am about the result.”
“Of course you should also be happy baby! After a 10 grid place penalty and fighting up to P4 that's skilled love! Come on be happy about it! Its a good result I promise.”
He smiled softly at you. “Thank you, that means a lot, especially coming from you darling… Now haven’t you got to go to practice with the rest of your team?”
You checked the time and groaned. “I didn’t notice… okay… love you baby… I’m so proud of you Maxie!” You called into the phone which was now facing the ceiling as you ran round the room picking up the gear that you needed for practice.
“Bye Y/n.” Max chuckled.
“Bye Max!” You said just before the call cut off.
☆☆☆
The preparation was tough, but worth it as you got ready rather confident in your team, and your own skill, before the match the next day.
The only thing left now was to make sure all traditions were wrapped up, and that meant calling Max.
Three rings and his face was filling your screen.
“Hey schatje. Excited?” He asked with a criminally bright orange scarf wrapped round his neck, presumably in order to demonstrate his support for the Dutch rugby team rather than a sudden switch to supporting Mclaren’s endeavors for the championships.
“And nervous. Mainly excited though.” You said trying to hold back laughter at the orange that could only be described as fluorescent. “Sorry off topic, but genuinely who let you buy that scarf.”
“Surely its not that bad liefje.” Max defended, clutching dramatically at the scarf wrapped round his neck.”
You grimaced jokingly. “I wouldn’t rest your hopes on that baby.”
Max shook his head, sighing in sad defeat. “Can’t believe you’d do this to me, right before your game as well, I’d got all dressed up, ready to support my darling girlfriend and I get insulted on my scarf.”
“Its deserved I’m afraid love. Look I’ve got to go now, love you Maxie!” You said waving into the camera and showing the little lion, sitting proudly on the bench in the changing room, neck still very much lacking in stuffing.
“Good luck Y/n! Love you! And love you too Aslan, wait what happened to his neck?”
“Don’t worry about it Max. Bye!”
☆☆☆
Twelve minutes.
Twelve minutes into the match and you were off for an insane amount of blood gushing from a very broken nose.
And a suspected concussion.
Twelve minutes of actual play time after over a week of stressing.
You were fuming, and to make it all so much worse, this was not the first time this had happened in the last 3 months. And Max was not happy last time, especially with your stubbornness and determination to keep on playing. He was not going to be ecstatic about this little excursion.
After you had been checked out and signed off on a broken nose and minor concussion Y/n was calling Max again. This time though, he picked up almost immediately, and instead of meeting the eyes of a smiling, excited Max, she was met with a raised eyebrow and a very disappointed (and concerned but he wasn’t going to let you in on that emotion just yet) face.
“Y/n.. schatje… love of my life… what on earth were you thinking going for that move.”
“I saw the opening and I went for it.”
“With no malice behind these words liefje… how are you not dead yet?” Max sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.
You were sat cross legged on your bed in the olympic village again looking into the camera as you gave him a shrug. “Miracle work?”
Max let out a laugh. “Yeah thats certainly a possibility at this point.”
“Love you Maxie… jokes aside thank you for always supporting me.” You said as you laid down, the phone propped up on the pillows as you laid on your stomach.
“Always Y/n. Always.” Max smiled. “Now make sure you don’t like fall off the bed in the night and die yeah? That would be embarrassing.”
“Oh fuck right off.” 
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This is a part of - F1 x Olympics Fics Masterlist for that series is found here
Thank you so much for reading! 💙
Requests are open for my normal fics if you wish <3
Feel free to reply to the post if you want to be added to the tag list for this series 💙
Tag List -
@simbaaas-stuff
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delilahsturniolo · 3 months ago
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⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . mentions of blood and weapons, cursing, romantic tension and slow burn, i don’t really know what else?
CHAPTER THREE: THE GREAT TWINKIE HEIST
read more parts here!
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you’re not saying you’re fully adjusted to the zombie apocalypse, but you have accepted that your morning cardio now includes at least one near-death sprint, your social circle is three dudes and a cat, and the only skincare routine available involves rainwater and hope. still, there’s something kind of beautiful about the mornings. that weird quiet. the soft orange sky. the way the light bounces off broken glass and turns everything a little bit gold.
also, matt looks unfairly good in this lighting and it’s starting to piss you off.
you’re walking in your usual formation—nick leading with his clipboard like he’s navigating a hostile spreadsheet, chris arguing with a pigeon for dominance, and matt by your side, steady and silent, one hand always resting near his crowbar like he’s just waiting for something to go wrong.
and honestly? same.
“we need more snacks,” chris announces loudly, stepping over what was probably a person once and is now mostly goo and blood. “we’re running dangerously low on morale. and by morale, i mean twinkies.”
“we have one twinkie left,” nick says without looking up. “we are not wasting it on your emotional support sugar habit.”
“my emotional support sugar habit is the only thing keeping this group together,” chris snaps. “ask lieutenant whiskers.”
you pat the cat’s head, tucked awkwardly into the crook of chris’s arm. “you’re doing amazing, sweetie.” matt chuckles quietly beside you. you glance at him, and he meets your eyes for a moment longer than normal. it’s subtle. just a flicker. a heartbeat. but it’s enough to make your stomach flip like a bad mattress.
he looks away first. you pretend that doesn’t matter. nick stops in front of a busted-up gas station, holding his clipboard like it’s sacred text. “this is it.” nick says, you raise your eyebrows and look at the writing on his clipboard.
snack potential: high.
fuel possibilities: medium.
risk level: let’s just assume yes
“i swear if this one has another jump-scare raccoon, i’m quitting the apocalypse,” you mutter.
“you can’t quit the apocalypse,” matt says, smirking. you glance at him, and god help you, he’s got that same half-smile, the one he only pulls out when he’s teasing you. it’s annoying. and distracting. and also maybe the only thing giving you serotonin these days.
the station is surprisingly intact. shelves are dusty but not completely empty, and—miracle of miracles—there’s no immediate moaning or shuffling. nick starts scanning the area like he’s performing a forensic audit. chris immediately grabs a pair of novelty sunglasses with little flames on the sides and puts them on. “call me blaze.”
“no,” you and matt say at the same time. you glance at each other, amused. he looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he turns and disappears behind an aisle.
you linger near the snack section, picking through mostly empty boxes and wondering if anyone in this world ever stored something as useful as chocolate.
“hey,” matt calls quietly from the back. “over here.” you wander over and find him crouched by a half-broken shelf. he pulls out a dusty but very real box of twinkies and holds it up like a prize.
“holy shit,” you whisper. “told you they’d survive the end of the world,” he says, handing it to you. “figured you earned it.” you blink. “what, for my deeply sarcastic commentary and ability to not trip over my own feet for once?”
he smiles again—soft this time. quieter. “for always watching everyone’s back. even when you pretend you’re not.” and there it is again—that moment. the pause. the way the air changes, thickens, stretches between you like something waiting to be said.
you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing. of the way his eyes linger on your face, not just your eyes, but your mouth too. of how your fingers brush as he hands you the box and how neither of you pulls away right away. your heart is way too loud. you’re ninety percent sure he can hear it.
“you’re not so bad yourself,” you murmur, meaning it more than you probably should.
matt opens his mouth to reply—but then there’s a crash near the front counter and chris yelling, “i swear this is self-defense!” followed by the unmistakable sound of a keychain display being obliterated.
you sigh. romance? never heard of her.
by the time you reach the front, chris is standing over a now-defeated display rack, sunglasses still on, holding up a plastic toy shaped like a lizard. “i named him toaster.”
“why?” nick asks, voice filled with dread.
“because he’s warm and his head pops off.”
“we’re leaving,” nick says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “now.”
you step outside with your twinkies, still vaguely flustered from the whole almost-a-moment thing. matt walks beside you again, his arm brushing yours more than once. you don’t pull away. neither does he.
it’s fine. totally fine.
except for the part where four zombies shamble around the corner with that signature death groan and-eyed shuffle.“incoming!” you shout, already pulling on your blade.
“split up!” nick yells. “circle back to the alley!”
everyone bolts. chris takes off in one direction with lieutenant whiskers clinging to his hoodie like a tiny, judgmental backpack. nick follows him with a shout of “do not climb the fountain again!” and you and matt head the other way, ducking through a crumbling alley and jumping a low fence like apocalypse olympians.
you land hard and stumble. for a terrifying second, your ankle rolls—just slightly—but enough to make you wince. matt’s there instantly, steadying you with one hand on your waist.
you freeze. so does he.
his hand lingers a moment longer than necessary. you’re close. too close. his breath brushes your cheek. your heart is doing the macarena.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low. careful.
you nod, trying not to melt. “just graceful as ever.”
he smiles a little. “you always land on your feet.”
you don’t know if he means it metaphorically or not. you don’t ask. you don’t trust your voice right now. “come on,” he says finally. “we’ll catch up with the others.”
he doesn’t let go of your hand right away. you don’t let go either. and maybe it means something. maybe it doesn’t. but it feels like something. something that’s building. something slow, and quiet, and maybe just a little dangerous.
but then again, what isn’t?
you survived the day. you have twinkies. you almost held a boy’s hand on purpose. and only two zombies tried to eat you.
honestly? that’s a win.
© delilahsturniolo
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formiito · 4 months ago
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let the light in ; chuuya nakahara
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chuuya x gn! reader
author's note: i got a hang of tumblr formatting??? kinda??? i will make a master list soon. i hope this isn't too ooc. read on ao3 here!!
warnings: none, just fluff and mild angst at some points! i'msonormalaboutchuuyaiswear
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“Come on, let me in.”
The soft voice at his door catches the young executive’s attention. Before Chuuya gets up from the couch and puts down his glass of vintage red on the coffee table, he’s already braced himself for hearing whatever inane reason you'd be at his door this late. He’s managed to successfully ignore all your calls and texts like he usually does, but it certainly doesn't fool you. Because you can’t sleep and neither can he. Once again, he realizes the futility of his efforts to keep you away.
Truth be told, you weren't a bad person. You didn't invoke his temper as easily or as often as other people did, and you were capable when you worked alongside him. There was an ease of being about you; something that he could eventually catch himself falling into time to time. You wear at him like a harsh current does to a rock by the side of a river. The veneer of nonchalance chips away more and more the longer he allows himself this companionship. And he's aware of this weakness; it feels so out of place when he is usually so assured. But no gravity manipulation can make this heart lighter.
Not when your face reminds Chuuya of a life he's already left behind. You were there when he spilled his first blood, you are here now, and he cannot find it in himself to push you out completely. As much as he likes to think he's above these sentimentalities, nostalgia still finds a victim in him; wrapping itself around his mind in his unsuspecting moments till he could no longer discern between himself of the past and him now. You make the poor guy feel the burden of his past failures too often.
Feel too much, too, for that matter.
You try with such enthusiasm, too. Despite the fact that over the six…or was it seven years, his life and yours have been turned upside down and inside out. There are some people who feel like they have been frozen in time somehow. With you, he feels like he can stave off the rot of his current life just for a little bit. A dangerous thought. He wants to stick a knife in your neck sometimes. Would that make him stop thinking so much? Or would his past still trail him around in the form of your memory?
It's a quarter to one now.
The door unlocks.
“What is it now?” This annoyed tone sounds forced out of his mouth. Strange, he never had any issues with it until you come into the room.
“I couldn't sleep!”
“Clearly.”
“You know what? We should go out for a drive, Chuuya, it's the perfect time!”
“Like, right now?”
“Yeah.”
“…You're serious?”
“Are you coming or not? Quick, I don't have the time!”
It's a good thing that he isn't completely buzzed from the wine he was drinking yet, because your request leaves no room for disagreement, even if it’s a question. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips, a muttered curse following soon after. “Fine! But I’m in charge of the music.” It makes no difference, most of the good songs he knows were your favorites at some point of time. You held him down and made him listen, and as much as he acted like he loathed the whole ordeal, the tunes wouldn't leave his thoughts be no mater what. He picks up the car keys off the table, not bothering to pick up anything else save for his hat.
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This had become something of a routine. You would always bother him at odd hours, though you were a rare sight at daytime, doing god knows what. The redness in the whites of your eyes, and the way you would rub at them every now and then indicated that you were exhausted, yet you insisted on these outings. It was the typical condition that came with their work; he was no stranger to sleepless nights himself. But with you, he finds himself actually concerned. The exceptions he makes for you feel unreasonable. The effect you had on him was just as confusing. Chuuya wonders if you just do that to him or if everyone is subject to the mental damage you cause him just by being around him.
Consciously, he knew there was no use dwelling on these thoughts. For the better or worse, your lives were fundamentally intertwined. Not by narrative choice, but by sheer persistence. He remembers what you said to him once. When he asked you why you were coming along with him, you only said, “because I’ll go wherever you go, obviously.” You refused to elaborate when he asked you to explain why. You acted as if this was an objective truth, like it was the natural state of things. As if in every scenario possible, you would've done the same thing. He called you an idiot for it, still thinks you are. Because Chuuya cannot understand why you stick by him, or more importantly, why he allows you to.
Even then, he has to reluctantly admit to himself that he’s glad for it. You remind him of his past failures and naïveté, but you also remind him of the concept of home. The last tether to his past is you, and he wouldn't allow anyone to sever that imaginary cord. Despite how much he hates it, you still hold a part of him he would have otherwise lost touch of. The pain felt easier to get through when it was shared. Maybe this was just what friendship was. It was elusive to obtain, but once you have it; whether by accident or on purpose, you have to cope with it for the rest of time.
You walk ahead of him, and he keeps up with your pace. Unlike him, you were aware of how you felt on a level that was nearly painful; instead of fuzzy, bittersweet feelings of nostalgia, you felt the lashes of time and it’s wear with pointed certainty. You were your own witness to the degradation of your morality and soul. You felt it chip away piece by piece, and saw the wear in the mirror. An experience that broke you from inside out, creating a new person out of the debris.
You hold onto the remains of a past you can't remember, and in this folly you have ruined yourself chasing something that had never existed. But perhaps that was the reason why you didn't let go of Chuuya in particular. He was tangible, within your grasp; not necessarily a constant, but by your own design you've made him one. You've made out of him a friend you trusted with your life, and that trust shows in every action, every laughter, everytime you show up at his door at some weird hour of the night. You know it annoys him, but he lets you. In a strange way, you test him again and again just for the sheer satisfaction of being assured that yes, he wouldn't turn you away.
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The walk to the car was fairly short. He got in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to follow suit and started up the ignition. The port town was especially beautiful at midnight, the late night lights of the wharf reflecting in the distant ocean. The sky is dark with no sign of light, all veiled by the smoke that lingers in city skies. All the stars that were meant to exist in the sky were here on the ground, in the lights of offices working late or streetlights flickering for the convenience of nightwalkers.
“Are you really gonna play that? Eh…”
“Hey! It's a good song, okay?!?”
“Debatable.”
“You’re literally the one who made me listen to it!”
“Did I really, though?”
“You-”
“Shut up! I think I just saw an ice cream place a little further up.”
After an excruciatingly long wait of watching you pick an ice cream out of the array of colors, you both were finally out in the open air again. The cold air pricks like needles. It wasn't even the weather for ice cream, but your habits were incorrigible as always. When you inevitably start sniffling, he could only manage a pointed comment about how you never learn. He would've given his hat to you if you asked. It's frustrating that you never do. Things never go the way they play in his head, and it infuriates him. The ride to home feels infinitely long. Taking the highway was an unnecessarily long route, and yet it was the one he took everytime whenever he was driving with you.
When you both get back home, he's hit by that strange spell again. A lack of thoughts and a tongue restless for words, checked by his dry throat. For whenever the air isn't filled with senseless chatter, gunshots or music, that is when he feels truly weak in front of you. The comfort of being around you shifts to something uncertain and bitter in the early morning hours. When you ask to stay the night like the usual, he can no longer find the strength to refuse. It was clear that no matter what the both of you did, at the end of the day, what waits for him is a helplessness so foreign to him even with his frequent encounters with it.
The weariness is built into their bones, and by the end of the day when they both are tired of this endless charade, you both end up in the same place as always, hopelessly entangled in each other’s lives. Perhaps on another night when you cannot sleep and come to seek him, he will let himself get willingly caught and put an end to this chase. Pushing away the curtain, letting the light in, and look to find you there where he left you.
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domoriu · 6 months ago
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thinking about jaehyun… who just needs to be filled up all the time like the whore he is.
cw. smut mdni ! sub!jaehyun gn!reader, anal play & toys used on jaehyun
the boy was so cockdrunk, no matter what you did he’d somehow always want more. your lubed up fingers stretching his hole out while he trembles under your touch.
“more, more” he pokes his ass out as a way to convince you, you’re already three fingers deep and you know at this rate he’d probably want all of your fingers.
sliding your fingers out of the boy, you decide he’s prepped enough for the dildo you had bought just for him. he whimpers at the loss of contact, burying his face into the pillows while he waits for you to lube up the silicone before pressing it against his hole.
jaehyun loves being filled up. ever since the first time he tried it with you he just knew he’d want to be filled up all the time. and then he started getting greedy, needing more and more — longer, thicker, harder, he doesn’t even need to touch his cock in order to cum when you fuck him, abusing his prostate until he’s making a mess all over the sheets, your hands, and his tummy.
like now, tears fill jaehyuns waterline as he squirms. he can’t move much with the way you have him tied to a chair, stuffed to the hilt with a dildo suctioned to the seat. every time he moves the silicone moves in him, rubbing against his walls so deliciously. the pleasure he was feeling is only amplified with the vibrating cock ring you put on him, bucking his hips into the air. he cant tell where his last orgasm ends and his next one starts, but he can’t complain when it feels so good.
“be a good boy and fuck my hand, hyunnie” your words ring through his ears and he barely hears you, but he’s still attentive even when he’s so overstimulated. he looks down and sees your hand so close to his cock, tip red and leaking and practically begging for your touch. he does what he’s told, raising his hips so his cock fits into the O shape you have your hand in, sliding against the skin before moving back down.
he can barely handle all the stimulation, the drag of his cock against your hand with each raise of his hips mixed with the way he sinks back down onto the cock inside of him, stretching him out so good and deep, and then the low vibrations from the cock ring were just so much for him. he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and you coo at his dazed state.
“mmph, cum- gonna cum-“ jaehyun bites his lip, trying to distract himself from the way you stare at him and how he can hear the sounds from his skin making contact with the bottom of the chair.
“that’s it, cum all over my hand baby… make a mess for me” and with a tight squeeze around his cock he’s cumming, bottoming out around the silicone toy as he drips all down your hand. he grinds his hips as he rides his orgasm out, slowly coming back to reality through his blurred vision. you tsk when his hips come to a stop, using your free hand to pinch his outer thigh and he yelps.
“ah ah, dont slow down. i know you can take some more, cant you? my little slut can take all that i give him, right?”
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for @zynz0 …. im feeling evil rn 🙂‍↕️ this is kinda formatted weird sorry i hope its still good <3 🤓
also !!! do you guys fw gn!reader… i feel like if its focused on the idol mainly then adding fem reader isnt too important :3
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stewpidcheescatarinabluu · 2 months ago
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That’s My Seat.
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Chapter 2
“Melting Point”
Synopsis: Synopsis: Karina as the cheerleader captain who stole your usual spot at your go to cafe.
Word Count: 1,800+
Karina X Male Reader
Days went by, with her name lingering in your head—almost more than the game itself. She was there in the quiet moments, between plays, during warmups.
Karina.
You found yourself walking to the café even on days you didn’t have a game. It had become more than just a routine now—it was hope. A quiet kind of pull.
The bell above the door jingled.
Jihoon looked up from behind the counter. “Oh? Y/N! Fancy seeing you on a Sunday here. The usual?”
You gave him a nod. “Just in the mood for a coffee.”
He smiled and turned around to prep your order. “Spanish latte, extra syrup, non-fat milk. Coming right up.”
You made your way to your usual spot, eyes already scanning the back corner—hoping.
But she wasn’t there.
No hoodie. No half-hidden cheer skirt. No smirk waiting to challenge you.
Just an empty seat, bathed in afternoon sunlight.
You sat down anyway, let your bag drop beside you with a soft thud. The window still gave you that calming view—but it felt different now. Quiet. Off.
Jihoon placed your drink on the table without saying much this time.
You took a sip, eyes drifting to the entrance again.
Still nothing.
And maybe it shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
Back at the Campus.
Karina stood at the edge of the school gym, arms crossed tightly, trying to mask the growing frustration in her chest.
“Again!” she called out to the cheer squad, forcing her voice to sound sharp—confident—even if she felt anything but.
The girls half-heartedly went through the motions. Sloppy timing. Missed cues. One of them kept checking her phone.
Karina’s jaw clenched.
They weren’t listening to her.
Of course they’re not.
She wasn’t picked for this spot because she was the best. Everyone knew it. The whispers behind her back were loud enough. “Rich girl,” “Daddy pulled strings,” “She didn’t earn it.”
It didn’t help that some of these girls had been on the squad longer than her. They resented her. She could see it in their eyes every time she corrected a move.
“Alright,” she snapped, lowering her clipboard. “Take five.”
They scattered fast, laughing, chatting, ignoring her completely. Like she didn’t exist.
Karina sat on the bleachers, elbows on her knees, fingers buried in her hair.
She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want to lead like this—unheard, unwanted. It wasn’t about status for her. She just… wanted to prove she could do it.
That she belonged.
She exhaled hard, wiping a hand across her face. Her hoodie sleeve fell slightly, revealing the red and gold of the cheer uniform beneath.
Her mind drifted for a second. Not to formations or chants—but to him.
Y/N.
The gym echoed with the squeak of sneakers and half-hearted cheers. But over the sound of routines, Karina heard something sharper—whispers.
Murmurs.
“I really hate this privileged girl,” one voice hissed near the edge of the group. “First she stole my spot as captain, and now I heard she’s been seeing Y/N??”
“Really??” another followed up, dripping with disbelief and jealousy.
Karina’s hands tightened around the clipboard she held.
She heard every word.
But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. She kept her jaw tight, her eyes forward. She was so used to this by now—the biting comments dressed up in whispers, the girls turning cold the second she walked into the room.
Still, she swallowed it down and stepped forward.
“Alright,” she said, loud enough to quiet the muttering. Her voice cracked a little from the long hours. “One more full run. Just one. Game’s tomorrow, and we can’t afford to look like a mess.”
No one said anything. A few rolled their eyes. But they fell in line.
She watched every move, every beat. Clapped out the rhythm. Shouted counts until her throat burned.
By the end, her limbs were heavy, voice nearly gone, and her breath came in tired gasps—but they finished strong.
“Good job,” she muttered as the squad grabbed their things. Most didn’t respond. A few avoided eye contact as they passed her by.
Once the gym cleared out, she sat alone on the bleachers, hugging her knees to her chest.
She didn’t ask for this. Never wanted to lead like this—under suspicion and quiet hate.
But her father… he meant well.
He raised her on his own, worked long hours, skipped meals so she could have hers. When this position opened up, he pulled strings—not because she begged for it, but because he wanted the world to love her as much as he did.
Because he owed her everything, and he believed giving her the spotlight meant she’d finally be seen.
Karina rested her head on her arms, eyes stinging from exhaustion and everything she couldn’t say aloud.
She didn’t care about being popular. Didn’t care about fake status.
She just wanted to be someone the team could rely on.
It was already dark outside.
The gym lights buzzed faintly above, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Karina sat tucked into the far corner of the bleachers, hugging her knees, the hem of her sweater clenched tight in her fists.
She didn’t cry—but her eyes burned.
Everything hurt. Her throat, her pride, her heart.
And then—
creak.
The gym doors opened.
She quickly wiped at her eyes and sank lower into her seat, hoping whoever it was would leave.
But your voice broke through the silence.
“Karina?”
Her heart jumped.
She didn’t answer right away, too stunned. She hadn’t expected anyone—especially not you.
You stepped in, gym bag slung over your shoulder, basketball tucked under your arm. You looked at her for a second, eyebrows knit. Not with judgment.
Just concern.
“I didn’t think anyone was still here,” you said, setting your things down gently. “You okay?”
She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”
You didn’t push. Just sat on the bleachers a row below her and took out your sneakers.
She watched as you laced them up. No audience. No teammates. Just you and a half-lit gym. Practicing alone.
“You’re… still training?” she finally asked, voice hoarse.
“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Tomorrow’s game’s big. I don’t like leaving things to luck.”
She hugged her knees tighter. “You’re always so calm.”
You let out a soft laugh, dribbling the ball slowly. “Not really. I just act like it.”
There was a pause. She stared at the floor, voice barely above a whisper.
“They hate me.”
You stopped dribbling.
“I didn’t ask to be captain,” she continued, eyes glassy now. “But my dad… he just wanted me to be seen. To be taken seriously. I thought if I worked hard enough, maybe they’d stop talking. Maybe they’d believe I earned it.”
You turned around and sat facing her.
“Karina.”
She didn’t look at you.
“You’ve been here all night, pushing your voice to nothing for people who don’t even bother listening,” you said, your voice low. “That’s not privilege. That’s effort.”
Her eyes met yours, and for the first time, they weren’t full of fire or sarcasm—just vulnerability.
“I don’t want to be the girl they whisper about,” she said, barely holding it together.
You stood, stepped up to her row, and sat beside her.
“I get that,” you said. “But let them talk. You show up. You put in work. That’s what people remember.”
There was a long silence.
Then she leaned sideways, head resting lightly on your shoulder.
You didn’t move. Just let her breathe.
The gym felt warmer somehow.
“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “In case you were wondering.”
She let out the smallest laugh. “Wasn’t wondering.”
But her smile lingered.
And for the first time in days, the weight didn’t feel as heavy.
The gym was packed. The noise was electric—shouts, chants, sneakers skidding across hardwood. But for a second, before it all started, you glanced up at the bleachers.
Karina stood front and center with the squad, uniform neat, hair tied back, but what stood out was her expression.
Focused. Calm.
She caught your eye.
And gave you the smallest nod.
You didn’t smile, but your chest felt lighter. It was like a silent promise between the two of you: I see you. I got you.
The whistle blew. Tip-off.
You were locked in.
Buckets. Assists. Clean cuts through defenders. You moved like fire—unshakable, relentless. And every now and then, when you passed mid-court, your eyes would flicker toward her.
She was cheering louder than anyone. Leading the squad with everything she had—even the ones who whispered behind her followed her now. Her voice carried through the gym, raspy but strong.
She was earning every second of her role.
And people noticed.
“Yo,” one of your teammates muttered on the bench during a timeout, “Is it just me, or is something going on between you and the cheer captain?”
You didn’t answer.
The game had just ended.
You walked off the court, jersey soaked, heartbeat still racing. The crowd was buzzing, teammates hyped, and people were already posting highlights. But through it all—you were only looking for her.
Karina stood just beyond the double doors, hair pulled up, uniform jacket slipping off one shoulder. Her voice was still hoarse from cheering, but she smiled when she saw you.
You walked toward her, everything else fading.
And just as you were about to speak—
“Of course.”
The voice was sharp. Loud enough to cut through the post-game noise.
Sooyeon stood by the lockers, arms crossed, expression tight with disgust.
“First you steal my spot as captain, now you’re throwing yourself at him too?”
Karina stiffened instantly.
Students slowed their pace. Heads turned.
You took a step forward, jaw clenched. “Watch it.”
Sooyeon raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don’t tell me you actually fell for her act.”
You stood in front of Karina now, without realizing it—like instinct.
“She earned that spot,” you said flatly. “More than you ever did.”
Sooyeon let out a bitter laugh. “Please. Everyone knows why she’s there. Daddy made a call, she showed up in a new uniform, and suddenly we’re all supposed to clap for her ‘hard work’? It’s pathetic.”
Karina’s hands curled into fists.
You glanced at her—expecting her to speak, maybe shut it down like she always did.
But she didn’t.
She just stood there, eyes focused on the floor, expression unreadable.
“Karina—” you started.
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
Then louder: “I don’t need you to fight for me.”
You blinked.
Sooyeon smirked. “See? Even she knows this is a joke.”
You turned back to Karina. “You’re really gonna let her talk to you like that?”
But she was already stepping back. Already retreating.
“Just let it go, Y/N,” she whispered. “It’s not worth it.”
She walked off without waiting for a reply.
You stood there, caught in the middle—between defending her, and watching her refuse to defend herself.
Sooyeon passed by you slowly, smug.
“Careful who you waste your loyalty on.”
You didn’t say a word.
But you felt it.
The shift.
Karina had shut down.
Sooyeon had made her move.
And whatever you had with Karina—it wasn’t just between the two of you anymore.
It was public. Messy. Political.
And nowhere near over.
98 notes · View notes
astonmartingf · 1 year ago
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THIS IS NOT OUT OF THE BLUE ; YT22
yuki tsunoda x gasly!reader . . . in big brother fashion, pierre wants you to go on a date with yuki to convince him to move closer to milan. however, yuki already lives in milan, and pierre is still not putting the pieces together
amgf see this is what yuki brainrot gets you, i love this omg one of my best works yet, i might come back to this type of format because i am not writing pt2s anymore!!!!!! (lovingly ofc) just like always, enjoy 👍 @viennakarma it's done 🫡
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yourusername
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liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, and 12 others
yourusername i get why my brother likes him so much now. he's a fucking child! feels like another day spent with pierre.
view comments...
francisca.cgomes awww they're bonding look pierregasly
pierregasly you had me in the first half, wym a child he's older than you
yourusername doesn't seem like it, seeing how you act, understandable
charles_leclerc oh chérie, what is your brother up to?
yourusername he's up to no good as usual, but if he's constantly yapping to you then you must know what he's up to
charles_leclerc i'm more surprised that you agreed to this?
yourusername he threatened to throw me back to university for a master's degree this time FFS
charles_leclerc well, if it's a master's degree or a date... understandable
yourusername control him please, i can't be the victim of his antics no more
pierregasly he said he had fun!!!
pierregasly now go on another date with him 🫣
yourusername ???? what is actually wrong with you
pierregasly you're acting like you didn't have fun, you even posted it for the whole family to see
yourusername get off my back pierre, my account my rules
pierregasly yeah you constantly yapping to your 20 followers which half are our family members
yourusername i'm blocking you next
pierregasly try me bitch
yourusername oh i will, you are no longer welcome in my account, get out
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yourusername uploaded a new story
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[he's taking me somewhere... i hope i come out alive 😀]
pierregasly replied to your story
oh my gosh, is this progress?
apparently he's in milan, and now we're on the coast so... i guess
wym he's in milan?
he's here?
he's with me atm but yeah
i saw him earlier and he asked if i was free
did he say ask about me?
sorry pierre 😐
non no, it's fine
i'm a bit sad he didn't contact me but i'm glad you're together
francisca.cgomes replied to your story
a boat date 🥰
it's not a date...
we're just hanging out
uh huh... cool
that's it?
wym?
that's it? you're just letting me off the hook like that? no teasing about being yuki's future lover or smth?
you want me to tease you about it?
non, not really i was just thinking about it
you're thinking about being yuki's future lover?
shut up kika, you know i didn't mean it that way
yeah yeah, sure 😏
you're absolutely telling this to pierre huh?
you know, i'm on your side for this one
your secret's safe with me 😉
what secret?
oh yn, for someone older than me you're a bit out of it but it's okay you'll get it one day 😊
get what?
kika?
what are you talking about?
yukitsunoda511 replied to your story
wow, you don't trust me one bit
i thought we had something going on
yeah right, shut up yuki
am i your boyfriend?
🥺🥹😭
yes
good girl 😊
yourusername uploaded a new story
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[it's him again... annoying asf]
yukitsunoda0511 replied to your story
why would you lie to your audience like that?
because it's way more fun this way
duh???
everyday i'm reminded that you are pierre's sister when you pull shit like this
excuse me?
are you calling my soft launching methods shit 😕
i'm just kidding
you totally aren't
you're right, i am not
it's just i didn't think he'd be that dense about it
i'm sure i told him we were dating
he's forgetful like that
don't start talking, you didn't even tell him about us
i did!
uh huh....
well, it's funny to me because look, he's so desperately trying to get us together because we're so perfect for each other (ikr) and if he would've just listened like a year ago he would've known about us already
i mean, even alex knows what's up and she's seen us like twice already
alex has seen us a couple of times, even kika but pierre...
he'll figure it out, it's like he's been waiting so long for us to date, i don't know when he'll realize it
let's pray for him
praying for pierre 🙏
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liked by yukitsunoda0511, charles_leclerc, and 13 others
yourusername road trip with 💋 + we met alex on her field trip, it's a win 😊
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alexandrasaintmleux it's nice to see you two ❤️ have fun on your road trip
yourusername ahhhh thank you, we'll see you soonest 😠
charles_leclerc come visit us next time ^^
pierregasly are you in monaco? hello? who is that person 🤨 where are you going? you said to update me? where are my updates?
yourusername i told you where we're going dumbass, check your messages be for fucking real
pierregasly oh you did send me updates
yourusername 🙄
pierregasly OWAH? YUKI IN THE LIKES? liked by yukitsunoda0511!!!!! we're winning today
yourusername what is actually wrong with you?
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yourusername
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liked by pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, and 22 others
yourusername milan. my man.
view comments...
pierregasly can't believe i'm finding out through an instagram post and not IRL, fake sister 👎
yourusername is it our fault if you didn't listen?
pierregasly i was already shipping you in my head with yuki, i thought of it first
yourusername okay and? doesn't change the fact that we've been mentioning it for a long time already
yukitsunoda0511 i mean yn is right, i did tell you as well
pierregasly okay everyone is ganging up on pierre for not knowing blah blah blah
francisca.cgomes i mean babe, you are the only one who didn't catch up
alexandrasaintmleux it was clear as daylight, they're not only dating but they're clearly fucking you're so dumb in your own delusions to see
pierregasly okay wow, i'm going to ignore the last few texts but first it was my sister, next my teammate, then my girlfriend, next my friend's girlfriend okay charles i know you're with me here buddy defend me please 🙏
charles_leclerc do you want me to add more salt to the wound? because i agree with all of them...
yourusername see? this didn't just happen out of nowhere, it was already happening and you were just too invested to see the truth
yukitsunoda0511 i look good there, next time i'm posting 😊
yourusername noooo i want to gatekeep you 😠 no no non
yukitsunoda0511 okay, whatever you say goes 🫡
yukitsunoda0511 can i soft launch?
yourusername yes 🥰
643 notes · View notes
bittycmd · 2 months ago
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It's already have been over a week since ch1 post, huh?
Thank you all so much for kind words about OSC! as this project will be a beginning of my hobbyist 'carrier' (read as: passion project) that will probably take my free time from work whenever I'm not playing video games (I am afflicted by a curse that makes me do 100% achievements) or studying or doing any other passion or hobby projects.
here is a cover page that would have started the au; if not for a surprise that tumblr actually has an image limit of 30! (I got lucky huh?)
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(tumblr refusing to upload this to my chapter 1 post is actually the reason why this post exists, so you guys get a lot of info now lol.)
Thank you again for supporting me on this journey! Below is just more info and plans and all that, for you who love reading that.
The first chapter changed and grew, firstly from a much different point of origin, having other chapter names and growing from a just 10-15 page chapter to a 30 one, and from planned 1 month to taking 3 months!
So what's next? Well... Chapter 2 which I'll probably not post as a whole chapter, but in parts. It will provide me probably more motivation and you all more frequent posting of story. (if you love getting whole chapter drops, dw, there probably will be chapters that I'd prefer to post as a whole)
ok, let's try a fun format of Q&A!
Have you started work on chapter 2?
yes. for the whole week i've managed to make...
check notes — 1 page...
oh god...
What? One page!? In over a week?!? Are you lazy???
I actually have been drawing like crazy and it's just i don't put that work on comic pages. Instead I've put it on sketches based on MD RP with my friends, that I have not posted here, because posting rp stuff without context is like trying to make drone drink water without dying.
Will you post the MD RP stuff you talk about??
... maybe... if you ask nicely ( ̄y▽ ̄)╭ ..... (it's some good stuff)
why are you talking about MD RP you do with your friends in OSC au info post?!?
no reason... -v-
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will OSC au be outside the tumblr? Or you have any other social media?
maybe on bluesky? i should post more on bluesky, i haven't posted a single art there, instead i posted about mickey 17 there... and escape from pork belly. god i should post more there.
twitter is out of question, i'm not going back there. I no longer post on reddit and i don't even have a tiktok or other social media. I'm mainly tumblr boy (I love it here) with bluesky side that I should post on more often.
I should also learn how to AO3, so it's archived and easily searchable!
What is estimated time of work on chapter 2?
I cannot estimate that, unfortunately. I work when I can, and when my body allows me. And it usually refuses when I want to work on the comic, which frustrates me too often.
Will the au be easily readable???
there is a plan to set-up a master post that will list, (and link to,) all the chapters/parts of them, and it'll be always reachable from any chapter post and from the pinned post. Also each chapter will have standard links for first, prev and next post. This, of course, is for convenience of reading! (fueled by spite to one of my fav au's not doing that bare minimum.)
I miss OSC random skit comics, will there be any more? :(
Most of those skit comics i had to cut because my brain decided they were perfect for the overarching plot so now I basically soft locked myself from making more.
BUT! With more chapters uploaded I'll be free to create more outside of plot OSC au skit comics.
THE OSC AU SUCKS THE AA AU IS BETTER WHEN CHAPTER 1 OF MD&AA AU WILL COME OUT!?
woah there! The md&aa au will actually have much different plans. they are only plans and nothing has been set in stone yet. But when I'd start putting it into place you guys will know :3 and I hope it'll be awesome.
will you monetize it in the future?
uhhh probably not. I see art as something that should be free to experience (even if it's some fanart au webcomic based on existing series). but that's also a weak excuse! Because the real one is setting up patreon or ko-fi is terrifying to me! I'd be so lost, and then paying self employment taxes! oh god the horror!
don't even get me started on commissions! ',⊙﹏⊙'∥
(i'd love to make comms or set up tip jar one day but without a super detailed step by step guide for dummies, i'd probably be lost with doing all that)
all those general questioned sucked! i want a very specific question answered!
well those are what asks are for! I am also trying to be active in comment section but I get bad anxiety, so unfortunately no promises.
Also my inbox is filled with mostly drawing requests, which I will need to state now, that I'll no longer will prioritize them, and I'm not promising to do them, maybe even ever.
111 notes · View notes
chaniyahs · 2 months ago
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Human
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Bucky Barnes x undercover!reader
w.c: ~3.5k
summary: Stalking your best friend is sort of driving a wrench in your super secret mission. Who would have thought.
tags & warnings: (in no particular order) suggestive content. adult themes. making out. fem presenting reader (heels, stockings). race neutral reader! Reader is a little creepy in the beginning ngl. implied self-slut shaming. self-harm in the form of sex that doesn't happen. hurt/comfort. reader is kind of a drama queen. so is Bucky. no use of y/n. not proofread.
a.n: Hi, nice to meet you. This is just a little something while I work on something longer. Thank you for reading! Means so much. Can't promise I'm a steady writer, as I'm a freak college student with a job and many time-consuming hobbies. But I hope I can drop by sometimes and provide something for others to enjoy, or at least share my favorite pieces. The formatting of this post will probably change as I figure out what I want it to look like. Didn't think that far ahead. Okay, thank you bye ha.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁🫧⋆。˚
IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS since Bucky Barnes has last seen you, and roughly three days since you’ve last seen him.
The first time was coincidental. You were in the backseat of a tinted black SUV. Stocking-clad legs had crossed one over the other, the airborne heel dangled haphazardly off your foot, though it was nothing if not intentional. The way the man sat across from you dug his gaze into your flesh almost made it burn with revulsion, but it was one of many testaments to your intentions. You could tell he propped up his left hand on purpose, an awkward position to flash his tacky, yet no doubt expensive, watch in your face to impress you. Your intention. Even the enthusiastic turn of his laptop towards you as he recklessly explained the backgrounds and products of his weapon suppliers; just as you intended.
You'd stored away many of the names in your head. Having a good memory was an important part of your training. The rest of it, though, began to coalesce into background noise. This one had a way of going off on tangents in some way that highlighted his wealth. He wasn't the target by any sense of the word, just a dirty stepping stone, a meager means to an arms-dealer end, and so you were less diligent than you probably should have been. Not that he cared -- you're sure he doesn't think you have much of a brain to listen too long anyway, so you didn't bother to.
Amid your boredom, you'd tilted your head to lean against your hand, elbow digging into the side of the car. Catching a glimpse of the outside world behind him was bittersweet. Your nights were now spent pretending to be interested in one of many forgettable corrupt rich men in the world instead of out there doing anything else. You watched longingly as the people sped by: a group of girls chasing each other and giggling in sparkly skirts, an arguing couple trying to be inconspicuous, a dog half-leading and half-dragging a skinny man along, a new father pushing his baby's stroller as far away from the road as the sidewalk would allow, a leather-gloved hand running through familiar brown locks to drive them away from a familiar stubbled face-
You sat up suddenly. The airborne heel slipped back snug onto your foot as it stabbed into the ground, breath slowing to what felt like a complete halt; heart seized in its beating with a well-known comfort that lied just outside the van. Your eyes followed him as the car raced by, head turning to see him disappear out the back window. Time stops just for you two when you swear he locks eyes with you, but you realize it's probably disbelief at the speed the driver is going on such a crowded street, as this car is far past the legal amount of window tint to be able to see in to. Just as it started, the moment is gone, and he's disappeared into the downtown bustle.
The man you're with doesn't even notice anything changed.
That was roughly a month ago, and it's become something of a problem ever since.
You were meant to be deep undercover, four months of lying and flirting and manipulating undercover. Despite this, in between emotionally draining performances, you'd sneak out to linger around spots you knew he frequented. One of your favorites was the bakery some blocks away from the compound, where he'd sit at the table next to the window and play with the chair that used to be where you sat. Like you were still there, rambling about how unfair the daily New York Times Connection answers were. The only thing new was that he'd swipe any crumbs into a leftover napkin when he got up to leave. That was what you did. Then he'd let his eyes linger on the cold, empty chair and leave, and a couple of minutes later, you'd go in and occupy the same table. On your side.
Weeks of seeing Bucky left you more disheveled than when you began. What started as a one-time thing to get out of your system became a necessity, engrained into your routine and the highlight of your monotonous days. You'd even started to get as reckless as you dared to, wandering closer and closer until this Wednesday when his nose twitched from the familiar scent of you, and you had to duck behind a corner to avoid his searching. You can't help but realize how absolutely out of your mind this op has made you. Pretty much stalking your closest friend. How much lower could you get. Yet you don't stop. Part of you wants him to catch you just once, and so that Friday, you're in his room in the compound while he's out with Sam and Steve, just like he was the first night you saw him.
It hasn't changed much at all. It was still uncannily clean, barely signs that it's lived in if not for the couple of framed pictures on the bedside table. One is of Bucky, Sam, and Steve. Another is of a white cat, one you recognize from a nearby shelter that you, Bucky, and Sam had been to a couple of times. He might have finally got her in your absence, the snowy baby that had captured his heart with her insistence on wrapping herself around his metal arm. Cute. The third, a group picture of everybody in the compound. Towards the front left sat you and Bucky, side by side, your bright smile next to his more straight yet amused expression. Instead of sitting up by the wall, this one laid face up, closer to his pillow. You decide to spare yourself and not think too much into that.
You're about to leave, but something from his bathroom beckons you. Tired fingers drag along his wall as you enter, feeling in the dark for the light switch. When the room finally erupts with light, your gaze is dragged towards the only difference in the room; a folded picture tucked into the mirror's frame, and when you pluck it out to inspect it, its the picture Natasha had taken of you two in some corner of the Quinjet, leaned up against each other. You remembered that day.
Multiple dead-end HYDRA bases had left everyone depleted and disappointed. It had taken Bucky aback when you searched him out and sunk to the floor next to him, filling the quiet he'd found for himself with nothing but your soft breath. At some point, your head lulled to the side, and he began to suggest you go to your sleeping quarters if you're tired, but he can feel your breath deepen, and your weight depend completely on his shoulder, and he can't bring himself to say anything. He would not be able to sleep, certainly not as easily as you had, but in your calming presence he could relax, if momentarily. He could even, remarkably, close his eyes without seeing the bloodstains of his past, and so he did. He listened to the light footsteps that approached without surging up in defense of a perceived attack, though he still opened his eyes again to see Natasha grinning with her phone out, shaking her head.
"Clint owes me $10 now."
There's a small ripped piece of what you assume to be printing paper inside the fold as well, with words written in Nat's handwriting. A date. The exact date you were supposed to be finished with your op, to uphold the timeline of taking down the arms dealer. You knew Nat had a way of knowing things that she should not have; it was her livelihood, but you could only dream of why she'd share it with Bucky. Her teasing of the friendship between you two? If so, certainly spurred on by Tony or Yelena or Sam. Or -- surely not -- had he asked?
A vibration from your phone breaks you out of your thoughts, and glancing at the lock screen, you realize you've spent much longer reminiscing than expected. Like you were never there, you disappeared out the window you came from.
The next week progresses the same. You become somebody else entirely, loosing all parts of yourself, until those fleeting chances at normalcy tempt you again. Eve's apple, your newfound Achilles heel. And when the next Friday rolls around, your heart beats wildly against the confines of your ribcage, itching to claw it open and escape while you climb up towards his window once more. When you finally haul yourself in, you're sure your heart has succeeded at tearing your chest open and abandoning the bloody remains to drop to the floor because you're staring at stormy blue, furrowed eyes instead of an empty room.
The only thing you can manage to do after what feels like an eternity of eye contact is to turn back towards the window. You hear a huff and the scuffle of him standing from the chair he was sitting on, dragged across the room to face the window.
"Don't." His gruff voice calls out, and you almost feel a sense of pleading behind it, but there's not nearly enough emotion to diagnose that.
Your hands grow clammy, and you're suddenly aware of everything: the wind rushing past your face from the night breeze, the way your black jacket hugs you too tightly now, the speeding of your breath, but still you turn back to him in anticipation.
For another eternity, he stares at you, taking in your entire form and then tugging his eye line back up to yours, until finally, finally, he sits again and speaks.
"What are you doing here?" The words are cold and distant and rip the moisture from your mouth. Any response you could have had dies in your throat. You break eye contact with him and lower yourself to sit on the ground in front of the window. After a minute of silence, his voice rings out again, forcing your gaze up with another, louder, "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," You finally shake your head, throat already burning with shame and eyes threatening to spill over with guilt, "I miss you. I miss us."
Bucky's eyes soften momentarily, but he looks away, and now you're wondering if you imagined it. He tries not to let you see how that word affected him: "us."
"You could ruin your entire mission." He practically mutters it, yet it's the loudest thing you've heard in months. He's completely right. You've dedicated many of your personal resources to making sure your escapades stay secret, but what if you weren't careful enough?
"I could."
"And for what?"
"You." The word tumbles out before you can catch it, and his eyes meet yours again. He purses his lips and rolls them out again, sliding his metal hand through his hair like the night you first saw him.
"Me?" He repeats it under his breath again, more to himself than you. Before you can respond, he pipes up again. "How long?"
You shake your head this time, "I was only in here once. Last week."
Another beat of silence, then, as if reading your mind, he answers your question, "You were wearing the scent you always wear. I know it," a pause, "and you left the bathroom light on."
That makes you wince. Reckless. Stupid. Kind of deserved. Then again, that was what you wanted, right? To get caught? The longer you writhe under his unwavering stare, the more you think it’s absolutely not what you wanted. He doesn't even let you hang your head in humiliation for long.
"You've been around other times too?" He poses it as a question, but it's more a confirmation that he wasn't going crazy that day he smelled you. You know he doesn't need your answer, and instead, you try to answer his question of why again.
"I don't think I can do this without you."
"That's bullshit." He scoffs, leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees while his hands hang between his legs. "You've done it a million times before."
The bluntness of his words make a playground of your already bloodied heart. "I have."
He doesn't respond to this one, only leans back in the chair once more, and you know all this movement comes from a place of frustration. You don't let him keep hammering you with questions before you speak again.
"I know who I am now, Bucky," you trail off as a blur of unoriginal recent months curse your brain, "I did. With you. I don't out there."
He quirks an eyebrow up slightly, allowing quiet room for you to gather yourself and continue.
"I am a really hot assistant."
He grunts in sarcastic agreement, but keeps his composure. As he does. Still staring. Still silence.
"It doesn't matter if it's the government or Fury or the millionth rich asshole, Buck. I am a piece of meat-"
To this, he sits up straight and furrows his eyebrows again, rushing to correct you. He doesn't bother to govern his tone this time. "No, you're good at your job. You're luring the arms dealer out. You're going to save hundreds of thousands of people-"
"Bait is still just meat, no?" You're looking down now, in your head, barely registering when Bucky sinks out of his chair and towards you. The call of your name goes completely over your head; the second call goes in one ear and out the other, until finally, on the third exasperated call of your name, he uses his finger to softly guide your head back towards him. At last, recognition seizes your face as you realize he's saying your name, and the expression makes him painfully aware that you didn't even respond to your own name;
you'd nearly forgotten your own name.
The toll of the mission that you'd been holding back for months suddenly breaks free, surging through you like hurricane flood waters, bubbling up and filling your eyes once more. Bucky only allows for one sniffle before he pushes you by the back of your head into his chest, legs caging around you, shielding you from the world with broad, hunched shoulders and wrapped arms. Just like this, he allows you to let out all your sorrows into his fitted black shirt while he holds you, staring out into the night.
When you've finally gotten past the fit of tears, you push gently on his chest. He gets the hint and releases his hold on you, hands floating away from the back of your head and to either side of your face. He can barely stand to see you so broken like this, but holds your reddened gaze intently, waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to break the quiet, and you do.
"I didn't.. feel like that often. Before you. Human."
He uses a thumb to swipe away a stray tear.
Your expression hardens in determination, and you grasp his wrists with your hands. "I need you to make me feel human again, Jamie."
Jamie.
You've only called him that once before, bringing him down from a rough mental snap that threatened to regress him back into the winter soldier. He sucks in a breath and uses his flesh hand to massage your temple gently. He watches intently as you lean into the action. "You need me?" He's back to muttering.
"I need you, Jamie."
Softly, as if scared to spook a wild deer, he brings your face into his, lips ghosting over yours. He only looks up momentarily to search for any indecision in your eyes, and when he finds nothing but pure need, he guides his mouth to yours.
At first, he's feigning innocence, pressing slow and sweet into you. His flesh thumb draws taut circles in your cheek, metal hand skimming the side of your face and curling itself around the back of your neck. Testing the waters. Then your lips part to moan softly into him; he swallows it, and suddenly, the water is scorching his entire body, overrunning his thoughts. His tongue darts out desperately, pushing past your teeth and savoring your taste. He swells up to his knees, drawing your face up and looming over your sitting form in want. Your hands paw at his still damp shirt wildly, tracing the defined curves and muscles under it.
As he explores your mouth and caresses the back of your head, your finger painting descends lower and lower. The curves take a sudden dive, and you follow them, breathless, fueled with a similar scorching fire to his boiling flood, down the low 'v' of his torso, until his hands leave your head and grab your wrists, stopping them in place. You freeze in fear, looking up at him in confusion. You've misunderstood him, somehow. Surely, you think, you've ruined your relationship with the only thing grounding you, but he runs a metal thumb over your lower lip and chuckles lowly. "You're cute, but don't pout, please."
You're still regaining your breath, chasing the warmth of his hand rapidly leaving. Pouting is in your nature. Natasha hates it when you do it, you and Yelena. Your voice quivers slightly as you move to stand up, fingers finding comfort in picking at one another. "I don't understand."
He looks up at you from his knees, blowing stoutly out his nose. You can't help but admire him like this; out of breath, hair messy and casting handsome shadows down his face, his muscles bulging under his jeans as he remains on his knees for you. One hand reaches out from their place on his thigh, slithering around the back of your own and pulling gently until you step forward voluntarily. The same hand dips under your jacket and rises it just enough so that the skin under is exposed to his mouth, where he plants a gentle kiss. His lips linger at the junction between your lower stomach and hip, eyes fluttering closed and then reopening to peer up at you through his downturned lashes. Finally, he uses your hips as means of steadying himself as he stands.
"Fucking me isn't what will make you human, doll." It's under his breath, but tunnels into your being deeply.
You look down in shame, but can't dwell in it for more than a second before he plants a chaste but just as gentle kiss to your lowered forehead. Then his hand shoots up and he flicks the same spot.
You drive your neck back, head following, and go to rub the spot. "Ow? What the fuck."
He laughs again, louder and less intimately this time, and turns away from you to move to his drawer. You watch with your hand on your forehead as he digs through it, pulling things out every few moves: sweatpants, a sweater, workout shorts. He peels his jeans off casually, only giving you a second to sheepishly admit the definition in his legs to memory before he's replacing the jeans with his sweatpants. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he turns back around, throwing the other two items towards you. You catch them dumbfounded as he takes long strides towards his door, opening it to reveal a small snowflake of a kitten. She meows loudly, like she was waiting a long time to be let in, and struts past him, and Bucky scoffs in response, "Yeah, whatever, Alpine. Be nice."
"You adopted her." Your gaze sinks down to watch her kittenish investigation of you.
He hums in affirmation, still staring down at Alpine as she begins to meow repeatedly in recognition. His voice is low and introspective. "Reminded me of you. We both missed you." He observes her rub up against your leg for a beat longer, then looks back up at you. "Change and get comfy on the bed. Movie night."
He's so agonizingly casual about it all. Doesn't even flinch when you let out a confused, strangled noise in response. He only drives the door open more and begins to disappear around the corner, his voice getting louder to counteract his retreat. "I'm getting snacks. Pick something. No war movies." It's said blandly, but you know it's supposed to make you laugh, and you can see his proud grin in your mind when you do.
This sort of ruins all the dramatic yearning you've been doing, but you suppose you don't mind too much. You'll be back to playing a ditsy someone tomorrow, but tonight, you allow Bucky to serve as your personal lighthouse, guiding you back to your own shore; and you allow Alpine to step on your chest as you situate yourself under the covers, even if the weight of her small paws feel like two elephants crushing your ribs.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁🫧⋆。˚
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dreadnotau · 1 month ago
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Dread Not Act 1 has finally concluded and with it, sadly, so does my formal creation of the AU. This is the end, and my goodbye to a story that’s defined the last five years of my life.
TL;DR: Thank you for reading, thank you for engaging, and I hope to see you again on the road ahead, whether through Deltarune or otherwise.
Why Quit?
It’s pretty well-known to the people that’ve been following this AU for a long time now, that my motivation for working on it has had its ups and downs. Mostly downs. I want to emphasise that this isn’t a hasty decision, I’ve been mulling over and trying to find other avenues for a while, but suffice to say the pros of continuing are few and far between when compared to the cons. For one, my working pace is horrendous and my drive is lacking, with the pace I’ve had these years Dread Not Act 4 would finish in, like, 2040. I don’t think anyone wants that, least of all me. Even if I turned the story into a fic rather than a comic, or simplified the story to the point it could be told in only a few comic pages, I feel like I’d still just hate working on it, not to mention it’d be a disservice to that original vision I had so long ago.
If you’d indulge me in a bit of needless self-psychoanalysis, Dread Not as a story has been a sort of mythologized retelling of my own adolescence without me even knowing it. To put it simply, when I was first writing it, it meant a lot to me, because it was an externalization of my constant inner conflict, the conflict between conformity and weirdness, femininity and authenticity, masculinity and powerlessness. I had a lot of jumbled up feelings about myself and my place in the world and Dread Not gave me a good outlet to explore and externalise it all, but... I’m turning 22 this year, I’m well on my way to finally get prescribed HRT, I’ve physically and mentally grown up, and this story no longer reflects the parts of me it used to. I think that’s the biggest reason why working on it has been so unfulfilling for me.
On the more technical side of things, my general artstyle has changed a lot (as I’m sure you’ve noticed) and so have my mediums of expression. I still love comics and will probably make more going forward, but not in this format. Not of this scale. Not alone, at least. Dread Not was a technicality NIGHTMARE to organise for my brain riddled with executive dysfunction, but I don’t want to paint it as a net negative. This project has taught me so much, not just about myself, but about how to work and create and tell stories, and put myself out there. It’s not an over-exaggeration to say it’s defined the last 5 years of my life because this story is how I met my best friend who I don’t know where I would be without. Whenever I’d do anything for school, I’d compare it on a technical and emotional level to Dread Not because it’s essentially been my golden standard of passion and discipline. It’s how I started actually posting my art online, like, AT ALL, and getting over my fear of people and being perceived. It’s how I’ve met all the wonderful people who joined its discord server who I’d consider good friends and I’m unspeakably grateful I met them all, and also... it’s taught me more than I ever asked for about the unstoppable force that is the human spirit and the immovable object that is time restriction. If I had like 5 clones of myself, by god would this have been easier.
But, cloning magic doesn’t exist yet and I can’t push myself any longer. I want to start new projects, actual original ones with my own characters instead of AUs, and I want to be unburdened from self-imposed deadlines and standards. I’m no longer the kid who could draw 3 fully coloured comic pages in like 2 weeks out of sheer will and school procrastination alone, and I’ll try to make my future projects reflect that both in skill and maturity. I think, what I’m trying to say the most is, I’ve outgrown Dread Not. I’m sure a lot of you have, too. It was a story born from my teenage angst and it had a pre-planned happy ending, it was always meant to. The only problem is, I reached that ending before the comic did, and my motivation to tell this story has dropped to an all-time low.
This doesn’t HAVE to be the end though.
What could have been
I know what it’s like to be really invested in something, and have the author just give up on the project halfway through, often even sooner than half. The untied loose ends, the disappointment, the tension of the story never released... Exactly because I know what that’s like, I’m really sorry, and I hope the ending of Act 1 and this post at least brings a little bit of closure on that front. If you want to know what the future acts WOULD have been about, you’re in luck. Since I’m leaving the AU anyway, I might as well document all my ideas for it so at least SOME version of it completed exists in the heads of people who care.
Not just writing it out for the sake of itself, but also if anyone wants to continue the AU themselves, they’re free to. I consider this whole concept up for grabs now, if you want to carry on based on the notes I leave here, or if you want to spin it in a completely different direction, or make your OC the president of the world, go for it! Alongside this post, I’ve made a dedicated Dread Not Neocities site, where I’ve compiled all the pages of ACT 1 and included my author commentary that is excruciatingly long, that I suggest you do not read every entry of unless you really, REALLY want to read all of my unhinged rambling about the creation process and the character beats I was conveying. I’ll be adding full descriptions of what future ACTS were MEANT to look like there too, plus concept art and sketches (that I might upload here if there’s enough demand for it), and that site will turn into the de facto “where to find the original Dread Not” place, as it’ll house everything I could’ve wanted to make with the AU.
For those curious who don’t want to read too much Kooki Speak (but still frankly a lot), here’s a shorter version:
ACT 1 was always planned to be just buildup, but by god am I bad at pacing. There’s a lot of small threads in ACT 1 that I never really had plans to address in future acts (Clover is one of those things, poor girl got retroactively shafted because I made her a third wheel in the Ralsei and Kris plot), but one of those is NOT Undyne and her team.
ACT 2 would’ve been entirely from their point of view, or rather the point of view of their newest recruit, Alphys, who joined the military essentially just for the money and perks, and ends up having an extended multi-year crisis over not being good enough physically, morally or mentally.  Alongside the running plot of the guard team (and sometimes directly involved with it) would be the two seperate threads left over from ACT 1 - one following Spade, Asgore and Kris trying to find their way in exile, and the other following Toriel, Gaster and their new maid/head of security, Muffet, who all descend into varying forms of villainy thanks to the influence of one another.
The Act wou;d’ve taken place over the span of 10 in-universe years, and the mutual element in all these stories would’ve been self-denial, with it being most prominent in Gaster denying his own mortal body while “helping” Mettaton with creating him a metal one, secretly using Mettaton as a guinea pig for his own experiments with his own body, becoming more and more machine-like in body and mind as the story goes on, for the sake of “productivity” (which itself was just his way of trying to escape the mounting guilt he felt for his involvement in Asgore’s exile). Mettaton would never be fully satisfied with Gaster’s work, and turned to Alphys for help to secretly “fix” it. The ACT would’ve ended with Alphys and Mettaton getting exiled after they in/directly cause a malfunction that nearly gets Gaster killed. They decide to stick together in the wilderness not because they have no-one else left, but because they WANT to help each other, self-denial turning into self-acceptance through another.
Toriel and Muffet would’ve spent the ACT building a rapport with one another, mostly through Toriel’s refusal to harm the spiders Muffet thought would’ve been dismissed alongside her, and in turn Muffet being Toriel’s only refuge from the chaotic demands of her subjects and courtiers. They would’ve ended the ACT as an official yet secret couple (since Toriel’s Queen she’s expected to court men for the sake of having offspring one day, and not Muffet who is a weird spider girl). Formally Toriel being the sovereign of the country, but informally they’re acting as essentially dual Queens, one dealing with trying to bring her people up while the other puts the “bad guys” down. Note Muffet’s skewed perception of morality and how it rubbing off on Toriel probably isn’t a good thing, even if they’re good for each other in a romantic sense.
Asgore and Spade, meanwhile, would’ve gone through ups and downs in their relationship in exile, predictably, as the circumstances are kind of really fucking dire, but eventually stabalize and preffer being fused most of the time rather than unfused (the fusion, yes, in-universe keeps being called The Fusion throughout the whole story, but he has an actual name so I’ll call him Corundum from now on). Kris, meanwhile, grows from being a scared kid who doesn’t really know humanity, to a teenage little shit rebelling against everything because they’ve Met humanity, and Embraced humanity and want to fight for it. Kris is actually a good segway into mentioning that ACT 2, alongside Alphys and Muffet, was meant to introduce the rest of the key players for future acts, namely Noelle, Susie, and Lancer. I’ll get to it.
Undyne would’ve started the ACT as a diehard patriot, but over the course of several failed missions, losing her eye and finally losing Alphys, starts to doubt and resent the cause they were enlisted for. Papyrus would essentially be the only universal constant, as his conviction doesn’t wane while his concerns for his friends grow, trying to keep what’s left of the team together and “fighting for good” because he doesn’t really want to consider that the country that won the war and saved monster kind could be Bad. Napstablook is there and Sad.
ACT 3 would’ve tied all the disparate threads together, from Undyne finally standing up to Toriel and getting exiled, to Ralsei becoming Gaster’s apprentice and inheriting his unhealthy coping mechanisms, to Corundum and Kris casually hanging out with Alphys and Mettaton like a weird extended found family. All of this (mostly) through the lens of Lancer, an orphan who heard about the traitorous escapades of the fusion and wanted to follow in his example of being a bad guy. Shenanigans ensue and he gets caught spying on them, only for Spade to eventually realise that, whoops! Lancer is his biological son, and he had no fucking idea he even existed.
Along the way Kris also meets and (spitefully) befriends Susie, who’s Lancer’s childhood friend he kind of left behind in pursuit of being a criminal. Susie both resents Lancer for abandoning her, but also admires that he even had the guts to go out on his own at all. Her and Kris mostly bond by being weird. Spade, meanwhile, makes the opposite choice to what Asgore did in ACT 1, opting to leave Lancer in the foster care system because he doesn’t think he’s capable of being an actually good parent, his influence on Kris be damned. This is (almost) immediately narratively punished, as after leaving Lancer behind, the family end up ambushed and terribly outnumbered by the Queen’s guard, now with machine reinforcement.
The fight goes poorly and Kris is wounded really badly. For the sake of survival, Spade and Asgore have to unfuse, and while Asgore gets Kris to safety, Spade is captured. Unwilling to let him be taken away alone, hoping he’d be able to save him, Asgore leaves Kris with Alphys, in pursuit of the people who took Spade away, and doesn’t return. Kris wakes up some weeks after, and realises they’ve been abandoned just like Lancer was. This causes them an understandably huge amount of pain, where they leave Alphys as well and try to live completely on their own, culminating in them talking to their memory of Ralsei through their old doll. They regress back to their younger self mentally, feeling alone and unloved and like they don’t belong, but it’s exactly the memory of Ralsei that reminds them that belonging isn’t something given to you, it’s something you find in other people, just like they did in each other when they were kids.
This invigorates Kris, and they gather their rag-tag team (AKA literally just Susie and Lancer) and head to the capital, looking to free their stupid imprisoned dads and reinstate the family they belong in, the family they really want. The heist is complicated as the prisons are heavily guarded, but Kris eventually manages to sneak in on their own while the others form a distraction. They find their parents (first Spade, who chews them out for meddling before realising he really DOES need their help, and then Asgore who’s just crying, man. He’s just crying a lot.) and once the two fuse they begin making their exit, which is noisy and easily attracts attention. Attention of none other than Ralsei, who was just here to grab some documents for his boss and ended up seeing his convicted childhood friend escaping prison. He gets the chance to pull the emergency alarm, to call the guards, but even as Kris has to run and leave him behind again, he can’t bring himself to do it, he lets them go. Later that night, Kris sneaks into the castle just to find Ralsei’s room and leave a thank-you gift.
Meanwhile with the exiles, Corundum realises how badly he fucked up, in a lot of ways, both for his passivity in his own kids’ lives, as well as his refusal to accept how badly his own life has gotten. Lancer gets osmosed fully into the family (while Susie aggressively refuses to be part of any group hugs) and the next morning, Corundum finally decides to take up arms against the Queen, to make a stand against the tyranny, because it really seems like no-one else will. Until Undyne busts down the door, suplexes Corundum and declares herself queen of the pirates. It’s a weird day, and the direct segway into ACT 4.
With the Capital unstable and Corundum on the loose, Toriel’s attempts become somehow yet more desperate. While Kris and their friends are only wanted alive (they’re kids after all) Corundum is wanted Only Dead, and because of the giant target on his back and how badly the Queen wants him dead for no discernable reason (traitors of similar status in the rebellion like Undyne are wanted dead OR alive), he essentially becomes the mascot of the revolution while the actual organised army is a lot more loosely structured. Undyne plays a big role in actual battle advancements while Corundum mostly handles recruitment and survival off of the grid, as he’s kind of gotten the hang of by now. Alphys and Undyne reunite but way too much is happening right now for Alphys to actually ask her out.
Meanwhile, the kids are travelling with the rebels but aren’t allowed to participate in any real fights, which they all think is lame. One day while out and sulking, Susie and Lancer stumble upon a weirdly cold part of the forest, and find a lost girl singing to herself in what looks like a magic, giant snow globe. They take her back to camp, and while she’s suspicious, none of the adults really think of her as a threat, mostly because of how absolutely petrified and hungry the kid is. She refuses to say anything about where she’s from or why she was half frozen out in the woods, all anyone knows about her is that her name is Noelle.
On one of their self-given missions, the kids split up into two teams to see who could score more points in their made-up game. Susie and Lancer in one team, and Kris and Noelle in the other. They end up bonding a lot faster than expected, and Kris uses their human soul to power up Noelle’s already pretty destructive magic. Turns out, the ice Noelle was ‘trapped’ in was of her own making, a defense mechanism to keep her safe from the wild forest, but now Kris is teaching her how to use it for offense, too. This backfires quickly when it gets out of hand and Noelle ends up hurting Kris. They aren’t injured too badly, but are cold and bleeding and can't exactly stand up on their own, but Noelle completely panics and runs away. Kris is hoping she’s going to get help, but she doesn’t.
Once Susie and Lancer get back to camp alone, and realise Noelle didn’t come back with Kris and seems to be in a silent state of shock, they kind of panic too. Corundum and Lancer go out looking for Kris, while Susie stays behind and tries to talk to Noelle, to no avail. Once the family return, Corundum is visibly PISSED while Kris is lowkey/highkey scared of Noelle, now. Susie pieces together what happened and stops trying to reason with Noelle, instead just trying to get her to say WHY she did it, to say anything at all, basically. Alphys ends up intervening and telling Susie it probably wasn’t intentional, Noelle is having a panic attack and yelling isn’t gonna help anyone. Alphys ends up being a pseudo mom figure for both Susie and Noelle, separately. For Noelle, because she’s the only adult who really understands her animalistic anxiety and panic at the smallest perceived threats, and for Susie for being someone willing to talk her down from anger rather than egging her on or ignoring her.
During the kids’ misadventures, the two actual political factions were gearing up on both sides. On the day the rebels finally invade the capital, they do so by hijacking a trade boat and secretly passing through the border via the river, after which all hell breaks loose. The city becomes a battleground and the citizens are all weirdly equipped with shelters to wait out the storm. Meanwhile, Noelle runs at the sight of the capital back into the woods, and Susie goes after her. Kris and Lancer stick to Corundum and Undyne like glue until they get to the actual castle, which has been turned into a giant mechanical labyrinth. Alphys and Mettaton run into Papyrus and Napstablook, and end up reasoning with them rather than fighting. Undyne has her sights on fighting the Queen just as much as Corundum, but it’s really tough to manoeuvre the castle and the team gets split up.
Lancer fights and conquers the staff (Rouxls) and is so happy with his victory that he takes a nap. Kris ends up in the bowels of the mechanical castle and comes face to face with Gaster, who Corundum advised them to go easy on earlier, which backfires. To their rescue comes Ralsei, and the two fight Gaster side by side, reclaiming their childhood and friendship in the face of cynicism and hopelessness. Gaster is essentially completely incapacitated, but Ralsei knows how to keep him alive via the machines while cutting off his influence on the building. Susie and Noelle’s fight ends more peacefully though, with Susie realising Noelle was running from her family this whole time, and opting to help her rather than chase her away. Undyne comes face to face with Muffet and finally fights her head on, making up for not standing up for her teammates when she should’ve.
And then there’s Corundum and Toriel’s fight, which goes so much worse. The two of them are symbols for both sides, yes, but their conflict is a lot more personal. Despite his best efforts, Corundum is unable to fully conquer his legitimate FEAR of Toriel, while she’s unable to deliver any decisive killing blows because she’s still holding onto the vague hope that no one has to die for the prophecy not to come true. The tides of their battle go in her favour, and she forcefully unfuses them, again. Wounded and emotionally exhausted, neither Asgore nor Spade can put up a fight, at which point Toriel makes the difficult decision to kill One of them, deciding that if they can’t fuse anymore, the vision won’t be able to come true.
Only for her to be interrupted by Kris, kicking down the door only to be unceremoniously kicked out of the throne room by Toriel in a single blow. She pities them, but can’t risk leaving both their parents alive, only to see that Kris isn’t alone. Behind them, storming the halls, the rebels have formed an entire siege, and it finally clicks into place for Toriel that the prophecy already came true, and she only certified her own doom rather than preventing it. She resigns herself and refuses to fight anymore, which Asgore witnesses and is extremely confused by, even as Spade helps him back up on his feet as the Queen’s surrounded by rebels, just like in the vision. They fuse again, and while Corundum is 70% ready to kill Toriel for real this time, Papyrus of all people ends up stopping him, as even though he’s on the side of the rebels now, he still believes in a true hero’s principals, the relevant one being that you may never strike down an enemy that’s already surrendered.
Toriel is jailed instead, dropping her crown along the way and (to everyone’s surprise) putting up so little of a fight that she’s essentially the one to lock her own cage. While Corundum stays in the throne room and ponders life and what the fuck he’s gonna do now (going back to the simpler lives he had in the capital before his exile still somehow seems like an impossibility to him), the kids all reunite outside the castle. Lancer and Kris introduce Ralsei and brag about their battles, while Susie (holding Noelle’s hand very tightly) asks them if there’s a way for their big scary four armed monster dad to make sure Noelle doesn’t have to go home to her parents. Undyne and the rest of her team summon Corundum and organise an impromptu coronation and correction of the system, pronouncing the fusion as the new king while the actual delegation of the system won’t be solely in his hands (allegedly).
The story would’ve fully wrapped up with Corundum finding Toriel’s crown, and more importantly finding her in jail. As a show of spite, he breaks the crown in front of her and tells her that her reign of terror is over. Toriel looks at him, coldly and dismissively, and “wishes him luck” in ruling better than she did, if he really thinks he’s capable of it. Despite her not saying much, Corundum is still lowkey/highkey terrified of her, and the sword of Damocles begins to swing again.
There was also a planned epilogue, but... you’ll have to go to the neocities page if you want to read up on it ;)
(When I update it, that is)
Meta-deconstruction of my own work
If you don’t want to read me ramble on about my own psychological issues intertwined with trans confusion and gay denial, just skip this entire subtitle, I wouldn’t blame you at all.
I’m a big proponent of ‘death of the author’ as a means of engaging with a story, original intent being secondary in importance to your own, individual perception of the themes and characters. However, in this case I AM the author, and don’t really have that alternative lens. That kind of screwed me over in a lot of ways because I kept trying to engage with my story only through the way in which it relates to Deltarune and Undertale, like it was an extension of someone else’s work rather than my own world. From this arose issues like... really unclear timeframe for when the story takes place at all, disjointed aesthetics and character designs I was never fully proud of, but had to stick to for the sake of being reminiscent of the original. I gave myself plenty of leeway, don’t get me wrong, but I always thought of Dread Not as the third wheel in a very solid twin story, and it blinded me to what the story was, metatextuality, actually about.
I was in high school when I came up with the concept of the AU, the monsters winning the war and Toriel inheriting an unstable throne. Originally, it was just Asgore, Spade and Kris, on the run from Toriel and Gaster. The conflict was more overtly a love triangle (square?) and Toriel’s motivations were fairytale-like while Asgore and Spade were... my main focus, I’d say? I designed their fusion (lovingly nicknamed Corny by me and my best friend who I expanded the AU with later on, and who you can thank for the scope of the story described in the above subtitle) and, for a long time, he functioned as my stand-in whenever I’d make other AUs, or when I’d just be randomly doodling stuff. Yeah, the scrawny transboy with no confidence made a big fat furry to project onto, what else is new. The difference is, I never admitted that to myself. There was a lot of shame and vulnerability in openly having a fursona for me, especially since he was just two of my favourite characters literally mashed into one, it’s pure wish fulfillment. I still kind of struggle with that, and I think it shows in the way I wrote Corny in my Act 2 drafts and onwards.
He’s just a big ball of pride and shame mixed into a destructive fake cat man, running from his own identity while trying to embrace it. It's weird and complicated and, frankly, with the drafts I had I never felt like I was really doing him justice. Like there was always somehow More to him that I was failing to bring up. In time, I realised that ‘something’ is the melancholic haze of losing the place in society you thought was your birthright. You USED to be normal, you USED to be successful, but now you’re not. You’re something else, something monstrous, something everyone despises but also, you could never be anything else now. You love the new you, but you hate that no-one else does. You want this, but you also want to fit in, and you can’t. And it sucks. And that’s what the fusion of two exiled gay men have in common with a former girly girl transman slowly figuring out he’s gay.
Asgore and Spade, and Corny by extension, all represented this almost shunned masculinity within myself. I kind of lived vicariously through these outlaw gay men because, even though I’m not illegal, living day to day as a teenager at the tail end of a puberty that scarred me, still struggling to come out even to myself at times, kind of gave me the impression that I don’t belong, anywhere. Kris is and always was representative of my inner child, loud and creative and kind of just unwittingly tossed into this whole mess. And Toriel? Sadly, she got saddled with the symbolism of all the femininity I was forcing myself to live up to, to stay hidden and “passing” as the wrong gender. I never disliked Toriel, and her “villain” role to me (at the time of originally making the AU) was a necessary evil. She would get overthrown eventually, yes, but while she’s still here her reign is stifling and strict. Tyrannical. But necessary to survive. She was the one making sure the country didn’t collapse in on itself through paranoia and control, analogous to my very thin perpetual mask of girlhood I didn’t belong in that I used as a survival strategy to not get relentlessly bullied again like I used to.
I kind of feel bad that I made Toriel the villain if I’m being honest. Like, in hindsight, she really doesn’t deserve that role. Even if she’s prone to acting paranoid or rash sometimes, I feel like I really undersold her very real wisdom in the games by (plot hole DING) having her not realise that trying to stop the prophecy would probably end up being its exact catalyst. I always meant to give her that sort of resigned realisation of that fact moments before it happens, but, I’ve gotten complaints from certain people that her acting the way she does in the comic makes it seem like she never read a single piece of ancient greek literature, and I’m kind of inclined to agree with that criticism. I needed SOME kind of effigy for my younger self to metaphorically burn in order to finally embrace what I’ve been all these years. And, that reflects really poorly on Toriel. If she were a real person I’d owe her an apology. Not for trying to dethrone her, but just for giving her kind of weird motivation that I had to further expand on retroactively in later pages.
If I were to make the AU from scratch today, I’d probably put more work in giving Toriel a more grounded motivation, give her actual stakes and history in the monster/human conflict outside of a vague family lineage, and potentially also tie Kris into her plot more. It feels like a missed opportunity in hindsight, they ARE her child in Deltarune, after all. Gaster, out of the main cast, got the lamest symbolism out of everyone though, the “adult” voice that’s nudging everything into conformity, beefing with a literal child to represent the constant war between “adultness and logic” and “childlike wonder” that plagues everyone during puberty. His general role in the story was of a passive machine, someone who’d do as he’s told and not question sides, that sort of “neutral instinct” to not rock the boat that’s generally expected of adults. Again, if I were to make the AU over, I’d probably give him a more mysterious role? Have him be less overtly one of the main catalysts for the story’s events, and more like a shadowy observer cataloguing the misfortunes of the people around him for the sake of trying to prevent tragedy. He’d still be a bumbling gay idiot though, don’t worry about that part.
All of this writing about the AU, I hope, can put into perspective why it meant so much to me, and kind of still does. I might never make all four acts into standalone comics, but I still put as much of it out there as I could. It’s 7AM on a Friday after pulling an allnighter writing this entire spiel, so please excuse me if it’s sloppy or weirdly phrased in certain places. From start to finish, Dread Not has been an honest work of pure passion, and I hope if nothing else about this AU sticks with you, it’s that I loved working on it, and I’m eternally grateful for all the people who engaged with the story. Even you, whenever you’re reading this ungodly spiel, thank you.
What’s next?
For a lot of you, I’d understand if you weren’t interested in my work outside of Dread Not, or outside Deltarune/Undertale. For a long time I branded myself on those games alone, but I’m hoping to branch out more soon. If you want to keep up with me outside this project, my Art Tumblr and my Youtube are the best places to do that. I’ll be turning off Asks for this blog, so if you have any questions for me about this AU or anything else really, the art blog is the best place to go.
Alongside the formal “closure” of this blog (no more updates) I’ll also be working on remodeling my Dread Not Discord Server into just a Kooki Discord Server, and if you join you can see the myriad of fan characters for this AU that people have already made and that I never cease to be impressed by. If there’s ever going to be an “official” continuation of the story, that’s made without me but with my blessing, it’ll have its roots in that server. But, also, I wouldn’t entirely bet on it. This story is kind of a behemoth and if I can’t do it justice I don’t want anyone else to feel pressured to try it either.
Once again, thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for caring. I hope to see you again on the road ahead. And, hey, if you’re second guessing whether you wanna put your own stuff out there, take this as a sign to just go for it. You have no idea what will come of it, but that’s part of the fun. Even if you can’t see it through to the very end, it’s better to try than to never give yourself that chance. Make that comic, write that script, draw that idea. It’ll be worth it, even if it takes a few years for you to see how.
Alright, I really gotta stop writing now. I think I’m just postponing the inevitable, because ending this post means really, genuinely ending Dread Not... I guess all that’s left to say is
Goodbye
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arknights-imagines · 1 month ago
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Hiya 🥹 Exe here!! Sbsjss so here is the Federico imagine I flash-wrote at 3am in one hour... that I mentioned in a post earlier today lolsksks
'Rico is my favourite and it made me v v happy to write something for him for you guys... Even if no one asked for this specifically 😭🥹🤲!! And also!! This marks the first writing on here for Federico's alter aaaa 😭🥰
Anywho! I won't ramble too long lolsnsjsj as usual I sincerely hope I've done Federico justice here 🥹 his character has really grown...!!
And I really hope you all enjoy 💘!!!
(also trying some new formatting out sbshhs... We'll see if I end up keeping it 🥹🫶)
Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:
@vesvic
@donsofwaste
@dracomultiverse
@marahuyos
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Cor Novum
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in which the Saint decides that now, he will acknowledge his heart; for you, he will properly ponder love.
Imagine format; very mixed perspectives, some bits from the Operator and some bits from the reader, written in second person!
Contains: Executor the Ex Foedere, gender-neutral Doctor as the reader, established relationship, Executor calls you 'love', LOTS of mentions of things and references and stuff from Executor/Executor the Ex Foedere's archive files/Operator Records, mentions of possible spoilers for the events of Hortus de Escapismo and Zwillingstürme im Herbst, LOTS of exploring of Federico's character, fluff and romance wbhshss 💕! Also not fully beta read so please excuse any errors 🥹🙏
Word count: a bit over 2.5k!
——————–
Executor would argue, the first catalyst for change in him - was you.
Since the signing of his contract with Rhodes Island, of course, a multitude of other catalysts have kindled the amassing change. His appointing as Saint had taught him faith, every death at the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii had taught him perspective, his pursuit of Arturia in Zwillingstürme had taught him patience, and the blue hue of the sky taught him solace.
The resulting changes of these were utterly irrefutable, so much so that everyone who watched or spoke with Federico now would have all confidence in stating that His Beatitude, Saint Federico Giallo could no longer be synonymous with the Notarial Hall Executor, Federico Giallo. His heart had only begun to stir, his brain had only begun to stray from logic, since his title of Saint, they would argue.
Federico, however, argued otherwise.
No; not his new role, not the unexplainable lives lost on the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, not his long-awaited confrontation with his soror, not even that day at the Art Gallery. While he would not say these had no piece in the growth of his heart, it was you, and it had always been you, whom touched it very first.
After all - you had taught him love.
Previously, many would joke that Executor was your lover only in title, because they never would witness proof of any loving; seeing the both of you on dates or outings was a rarity that rivaled a cloudy day in Laterano, his public displays of affection were never more than handholding hidden under the loose sleeves of his old uniform or a brush of his lips against your temple, and any warmth ever in his expression when he turned to face you was simply too miniscule for anyone to notice but you.
“Hey…don’t tell anyone I asked, but…Is Federico really dating the Doctor? Or, did he just make that up to get those people from the R.I Engineering Department to stop asking him on dates?”
“I know, right?! I mean, I’ve never even seen the two of them kiss!”
“Who’d wanna date that hardass, anyway? Besides the looks, what could possibly be the win there?”
“Maybe he’s really good in bed?”
“Him?!”
So, imagine everyone’s surprise when, one afternoon when you were hurrying down the hall towards your office with Amiya at your side and a stack of paperwork in your hands, the ever-stoic Saint paused his stride in the opposite direction upon seeing you. He halted you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaned down to close the difference in height - and unceremoniously, wordlessly, expression unchanging, pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before continuing along.
Suddenly, where there was only a brush of lips when he had ascertained nobody was looking, is now a forehead kiss whenever he might see you. The kisses were not the limit of it, either.
Soon came dessert boxes containing your favourite sweet just in time for lunch; “Love, please accept this. It aligns 91% with your preferences, and I also noticed you viewing similar desserts from the menu of Rhodes Island’s cafeteria. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Then he took your paperwork upon himself, double how much he already used to; “I have taken care of your paperwork as of last night. I organized the recruitment reports alphabetically by candidate surname, categorized the Operation summary reports by completion status, and sorted all letter mail addressed to you by sender, and date sent. Hm? Why?” He’d tilt his head, halo catching a glint of the lights overhead, “Should I have an exact reason for performing favours for my significant other?”
And, incredulous as it was, compliments began from him, albeit as best as someone as plainly-spoken as Federico Giallo could manage; “You look as nice as always, love.”
The whispers lingered in the hallways for days, somehow even squirming their way into the cubicles of the Notarial Hall offices. Had he been put under the hex or spell of someone’s Originium Arts? Had he grown sick of people not believing your relationship?
Federico cared not at all, as was expected. His explanation came only to you, and only when you ask.
You piped up one evening in your office, head pillowed in Federico’s lap after he had insisted you rest after hours of paperwork, “Federico?” Affection melted the ice hue of his irises to an azure blue when his eyes flick to yours peering up at him, and his fingers squeezed yours ever-gently where both your hands were intertwined over your tummy, “Yes, love?”
The Sankta had always softened around you, toward you; however, it had only ever been visible in the inch of tension his shoulders lost, in the slight dilation of his pupils, in the way his brows and jaw untightened by a hair. Now, adoration touched upon each of his facial features, he allowed it with no protest or restraint. Your head tilted slightly as you blinked up at him, eyes rounded like a curious doe, earning a tiny quirk of one platinum white brow from your lover.
Restraint — restraint is what Federico is suddenly devoid of, you realize.
The Federico Giallo who had never seen value in understanding, in considering, in allowing his emotions to wander, maintained a vice-like grip on his heart and commanded all actions by order of his systematic, logical brain. No physical contact, as it was too distracting to his duties; no time spent on determining the destructive effect of his chosen method to execute his task, if it proved to be the most efficient one; no attention spared toward anything not regarding a mission or his duties, because there was no benefit in such. Many had assumed such was only possible, either because he was a robot or he was devoid of any and all emotion.
You understood, however. It was never that Executor was unfeeling, instead that he had leashed, handcuffed, and tied up his emotions into inescapable bounds to be never loosened. It was logical, you supposed; emotion would do little to benefit the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, the ever-set jaw, and pale blue eyes fixed onto his mission.
Yet now, the Federico Giallo who’s lap you rested your head on tonight - the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, head always finding itself in a contemplative tilt, and wandering eyes that notice too much - had loosened the aforementioned restraints.
When you snapped back from your thoughts, a smile crawled slowly upon your lips when you noticed Federico had allowed his affection to linger on his face for so long, it was tangible; his softened facial features now made him akin to a vanilla gelato scoop from one of the Lateran ice cream carts.
You finally disturbed the silence, beating Federico to it before he could open his lips to ask why you’re staring, “What’s up with all the…you know?’ Your free hand lifted to gesture vaguely to your desk, occupied by stacks of Federico-organized paperwork and a now-empty sweet box from one of Laterano’s dessert carts, “You loving me extra lately?” When his eyebrows knitted together slightly at your wording, you added in a rush, “Not that I’m complaining! It’s just…”
He allowed you to trail off completely before he replied, “You are referring to the sudden increase in my acts of affection.” His gaze shifted away from yours to flick between the paperwork, the dessert box, then to the spot on your forehead he’d designated as the receiving area for his kisses. A nod from you followed, “Yes. I didn’t…say something that made you feel forced to…be more affectionate, did I?” The possibility of this caused uncertainty to waver your tone now, and a concerned frown replaced your smile, “Federico, you don’t have to be more ‘lovey’, I love how you ar--” “No, you did not.” As if to apologize for cutting you off, Federico tightened his hold on your hand once more, “Please do not misunderstand…this was not incited by anything you have said. Simply, I…”
The Sankta paused, lips closing and eyes casting off to the side before he lifted the hand not holding yours to cradle his chin; a gesture you’ve now learned meant he was considering his words. He never used to do that before.
“His Holiness advised me to ponder my actions more thoroughly. To wonder my reason for doing something, and the reasons others might perceive. To take further action even if it is unnecessary for my mission or duties.” Formality cooled his tone again upon the mention of the Pope, yet affection lingered on his words like sugar stuck on his tongue, “...recently, after completing a book I had purchased in hopes to gain further understanding, I had come to realize that you will struggle to perceive my affection in its whole unless I express it through multiple outlets.” His hand lowered from his chin to return to his side, not without brushing his fingers over the ends of your hair in a motion you question the coincidence of, “After concluding this, I determined the only solution was to begin to display the affection I hold for you in various ways.”
Your heart melted into liquid within your ribcage at that, and you stammered out in an attempt to distract him from the rosy hue rising to your cheeks - though, considering it was Federico, he had undoubtedly noticed already -, “Wait, wait, what was the book about?”
“Love languages.” The steadiness he explained this in could convince someone this was an academic topic, “In particular, the book described the giving of gifts, physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service.”
Your eyes widened and your lips fell agape with a noise of realization, “Oooh. I see now…that’s where all that came from. You learned it from the book!” In a swift motion, you rose to sit up and lean your body against Federico’s shoulder, curling up much like a kitten to a furnace. No tension stiffened his body upon the contact - and his arm slid around your waist with protective weight, to press you oh-slightly-closer. “Yes.”
His confirmation was paired with a nod, a miniscule movement as to not disturb your comfortable position as you tucked your face against his throat, “The book had explained as well, that as a partner, I utilize the ‘love language’ you most prefer. As I did not know which was your preference…I decided the most beneficial course of action was to trial each one until I could determine which you were most receptive to.” His voice quieted as he trails off, murmuring to himself against your hairline, a new habit you had noticed more frequently these days, “However…I am concerned I lack proficiency in the method of ‘words of affirmation’...I have referred to your appearance as ‘nice’ seven times consecutively now…”
Heat blazed on your cheeks now, and you were unsure if it was from embarrassment, upon the realization that Federico had been scrutinizing each and every of your reactions to his new acts of affection, or if it was from delight, buzzing around your heart at the fact that he had planned so elaborately only to find the best method to love you. Your head ducked further under his chin to nuzzle your face against his chest, cheek pressed just over his heartbeat before your voice left muffled against the fabric of his uniform, “Federico…you didn’t have to do all that. I really, really liked it, but that was a lot of hassle for you. You could’ve just asked…”
While his arm remained where it was draped around your waist, the other lifted in a slow movement until his hand was cradling your nape; his fingers were expectedly cool, and yet yet his touch is oh-so-warm in contrast, and you did not fail to notice how hands that used to hesitate over your skin settle with more ease now, “Yes, perhaps. However, the book had advised against such, as it would be…unromantic.”
You snorted before you could catch it, head whipping from his chest to tilt your face upward at him, “Mmph-- Why are you worrying about that? Federico, I’m not with you because you’re romantic.” The slight furrow between his eyebrows returned again, this time paired with the tiniest downward tugs of the corners of his lips, and you jolted when your poor wording settled on you, “No, no, I mean…”
A stutter, before you exhaled with a sheepish grin. Instead of words first, your hand rose to tuck stray platinum hair away from his eyes, the stubborn bits along one side of his face where he’d grown it longer, to allow time for your flusteredness to fade and your words to find you again. Federico’s head tilted towards your touch, his cheek catching a brush of your fingers.
“I mean…” You began again, hushed this time; his eyes were rapt on you yet rounding at the edges once more until it seemed like his pupils were melting, and you forced yourself to swallow the hitch that threatened to disturb your words at the sight, “I don’t love you any different for any reason…much less the ‘love language’ you ‘speak’ to me with. I love you because…you’re Federico.”
For a moment, by the slight tilt of his head and downward of his eyes, you were unsure if he would understand; too vague, too rooted in emotions he has not become acquainted with yet, too cheesy. You opened your mouth to elaborate, though your words paused on your tongue when you swear you notice the corners of his lips tilted upward by millimeters. Instead of questions - though he seemed full of them lately -, his reply came as a nod against your hand and a word softened to a murmur, “...I understand.”
Federico leaned in to close the space between you, tilting your head with the hand he still had resting on your nap; a breath, then his lips pressed an air-light kiss to the particular spot on your forehead. He lingered for one moment, two moments, three, before he retracted enough to find your eyes again, “I too, love you as you are, and as you will be.” A pause, hesitance, however restraint no longer surged forth to halt him and strangle his affection, “...and I no longer see a beneficial reason to hesitate in expressing this.”
Your hands tightened slightly where they’d slid to rest on his chest in some nonsensical worry he would pull away, shoulders perking up with a held breath as your heartbeat suddenly thud-thud-thudded in your ears. In your few moments of wide-eyed silence, you wondered if Federico would decide what he has said is too far and renege on it.
No; his softened gaze remained fixed to yours, his arm remained around your waist, his hand remained cradling the base of your head, and his lips remained shut. Even his halo and wings seemed to still completely. Not a single semblance of his previous restraint tugged at even the corner of his sleeve.
A second thud-thud-thud became unmistakable under one of your palms, and for a moment you were sure Federico had caused your heart to swell so much it had duplicated, before your eyes flicked down and you realized. Under where one of your palms was placed upon his chest, his own heartbeat is hurried, loud - and full.
The twitch in his jaw was telltale that Federico considered words, though aware as he was that they rarely favour him well, he instead moved. A gentle hand lifted; one too gentle to be the same one that operated a shotgun that had taken more lives than he had lived years, too gentle to be the same one that had pulled the trigger to send bullets between eyes or into chests with finality, too gentle to be the same one that has torn the heart clean out of an Originium beast.
It raised to rest over your own and pressed it firmer against his heartbeat.
“Love.” The term of endearment left his lips more of a breath rather than a word, “This is acceptable?”
You chimed with mirth, hand pressing closer in order to catch the stutter of his heart when you do, “More than acceptable, Federico.”
Undoubtedly, this was not the same Sankta whose certificate you had received that very first day. This Sankta wore a new title, wore a different uniform, and had a heart grown too large. And yet, undoubtedly, this Sankta - with the same blue eyes, platinum locks, and obsidian halo and wings - was still Executor. You could never doubt the softened hue of Federico’s eyes, like the sky on a sunny day, when they settle upon yours.
And likewise, Federico now found it was impossible to deny that his heart - the one he understands he swore in oath only to Laterano, the one he should be discarding if he is to serve the Law as expected of him, the the once racing so freely beneath your palm now - has ever belonged to anyone or anything but you.
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Tysm for reading 🥹 Executor loves you v much! 🫶!! All my writing is dedicated to all of you guys and to loving AK's Operators~
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yuoimia · 2 years ago
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DAY 5: KEEP THINKING OF ME ❅⋆⍋
summary: when you ‘forget’ to kiss him goodbye.
characters: alhaitham, lyney, neuvillette, xiao.
notes: i have this weird thing of progressively making the paragraphs longer than the previous, wanted to try a different format, gn! reader. wc: 160 - 200 per character.
⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist
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alhaitham
Let’s be honest, he’d remind you.
Alhaitham is attentive to detail, fairly organised when it comes to routine, and certainly notices when something that ties his hasty mornings together is forgotten. He likes to say the work of a scribe is so endlessly dreary that he should be at least deserving of some reward. Preferably, though not outwardly stated, affection in the form of a tender kiss of your silken lips, brisk, energetic or longing, he’s not fussy.
Alhaitham believes that your affection is one of the only divine cures that could possibly be the remedy to the multitude of poisons inflicting his sanity. You find it a little funny; who knew the Akedemiya’s renowned scribe and former Acting Grand Sage could be so dramatic?
So, when you do forget to kiss him before he exits the door, he makes sure to mention it, makes sure that you won’t forget the next morning, because otherwise, the Akedemiya would have to deal with a missing employee.
lyney
The thing with Lyney is…he probably had more than plenty before he even reached this dilemma.
Throughout the day, from the first sunbeams to the final streaks of moonlight, he was quite bold when it came to the showers of love he craved most frequently. In truth, Lyney considers a day terribly incomplete if he hasn’t been exposed to the warm feelings of your beloved affection. He sincerely promises you that the simple regret doesn’t leave his mind, despite all the distractions he hopes to divert his thoughts revolving madly around you. Something that beautiful should never go overlooked.
Depending on the cruciality of the situation, he’d turn back and come knocking on your door with such a solemn expression that you’d assume that someone had died. The question would arise, his voice uncertain and curious, “Did you forget something important this morning?”
The best option would be to just give him that precious kiss. You don’t want him to do anything too extreme for it, do you?
neuvillette
Did he upset you the night before?
Neuvillette’s knowledge of the complexities of human emotions and responses was, in comparison to anyone else, a little rusty, he admits. That, of course, does not stop him from trying. The often ‘lost in his thoughts’ face the people of Fontaine regularly noticed about him was merely Neuvillette grasping in the elements of human nature, for to deeply understand them was essential if he ever planned on living alongside them.
The lighthearted experiment was just to see how he would react—a small prank, you convince yourself—but perhaps, just maybe, the chief justice had sincerely thought you were mad at him.
You haven’t seen him all day.
Neuvillette seems to have abandoned the customary meeting spots you’d typically bump into him, and that’s when you know.
The idea of putting the blame on himself, making up some complicated scenario that was certainly not true, elicits a newfound determination to make it up to him, to apologise with the compensation of the truth.
That evening, you wait for the door to open, and when it does, you ensure the person entering is gifted the sincere caress of your lips—a few more than what he expects.
xiao
Xiao would continue on with his day. He’s fine, thank you for asking. So what if you forgot to kiss him goodbye?
However, it would be a downright lie to assume that he was 100% veritably unaffected. Xiao was never particularly good at masking emotions, but rather more skilled at intensifying them.
He’ll ponder and wonder; the same question answered with the same reply, repeating like a lament, carving into the inconsolable space of his mind. In other words, Xiao is sulking and in brutal denial of it.
You observe him from the distance, standing on the tip of a faraway mountain, and there’s a strong feeling that he’s gazing at you, too.
Call out my name, he almost begs, a foolish excuse to inexplicably confront you.
The sound of your voice summons him instantly; it breaks him out of his trance, and what you say next cuts through all the tragic thoughts he ever contemplated beforehand.
“I forgot to kiss you this morning,” you smile, playfully apologetic. “Did you realise?”
Xiao doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to be said, but his actions prove all that needs to be said—how the corners of his lips tug just the bit upwards as he leans into you.
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