#i imagine is the thought process. but i will never be a fan of how it's a big deal now. bc it just never has been. ever

[felassan]

David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

[thedevotionaltour]

marvel should hire me to write bc i'd pull the funniest thing on earth where i am wiping his catholic slate CLEAN and i would explcitily have him go ehhhh i've never really been religious me and my dad went some easters and christmases and attended a few services outside of that but that stopped by the time i was around 10 and my dad just kinda gave up on it because he didn't particularly want to go by that point either. and even then we hadn't gone every year for easter and christmas in that time frame. and then we never bring that shit up again in the story. he is only catholic in the sense he went a few times and it's the only church experience he knew and his dad probably grew up going to church more in his youth being dragged in by his family but he never felt particularly compelled to go back to it once he moved out on his own. catholic only in the fact that his family was irish catholic but his dad is a lapsed catholic who did not give a fuuuuuck

[assembletheimagines]

Can you do one where Bucky is your best friend and he finds out you have a praise kink and you find out Bucky has a bulge kink and one thing leads to another you now riding Bucky with his hand on your throat calling you a good girl and telling you you doing amazing while he points out how deep he is in you by the bulge. And when y'all are are done you fall asleep with him still inside you?

From- your deer fan

Good Girl

a/n: The way you came in and attacked me like this- ugh, I'm here for it lmao. Please give me more haha

My thought process is you two are friends with building sexual tension and Bucky's finally had enough.

warnings: bucky’s big, praise, smut, cream pie, a smidge of dirty talk?? 18+ to interact

-

You read the text, and then you read it again as you try to comprehend the little words in the bubble from Bucky.

You couldn’t believe it and at the same time you could feel the heat raise in your body as you read the texts again.

Bucky had to be joking, your friend had suddenly turned into a comedian over the last few hours of you two texting back and forth and he was joking.

But then another text popped up, now only containing your name and your breath caught in your throat as another text followed asking you to be a good girl and come over.

And so you did.

-

"Fuck baby, just like that, go nice and slow-" Bucky groans beneath you. His hands gripping your hips as your hand that's wrapped around his dick, slips the head of his cock inside your soaking pussy.

Your thighs were already shaking with just the head, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Fuck, it was so big.

"Bucky, I can't I-" your hands move to rest on his chest as you slowly lowered yourself further down. You felt so full with just the first few inches you couldn't imagine the feeling of all of him.

But all thoughts leave your mind as Bucky moves a hand to your clit. A whine leaves your mouth, head falling back as his thumb rubs swift circles causing a new wave of slick to form between your thighs and make you sink lower onto his dick.

"Yes you can," he hums, his thumb never letting up as your eyes roll back and his eyes train on where you two are connected. He watches as you take more of him, your cunt fluttering around his length as he bullies his way in. "See? You're doing so well, taking everything I give you." He coos and your face flushes at the praise, squeezing his cock in response.

And that's all Bucky needs to know, his smirk growing as his eyes darken. His dick twitches inside you and your ass sits on his thighs as you take all of him. Your drowning him, your slick dripping and smearing on his pelvis and balls and you were just getting started.

"Do you like it when I tell you how good you are?" Bucky hums and moves you up a little only to force you back down onto his cock. You both groan at the feeling and your walls tighten around him again as he repeats the actions slowly, still talking to you. "Because you're doing so well, so good, god you're soaking my cock with how wet you are." He groans and your hips roll, his praise fueling your own movements as you lift yourself up and then down again.

His cock is nudging the soft spot inside you with each bounce. Your mind beginning to fog with each roll of your hips. Your eyes become glossy and you begin to babble because it felt so good, you felt so full, " s-so good." Your words slur and Bucky can't look away from you as the lust takes over and you begin to fuck yourself onto Bucky eagerly. Your movements growing in speed as you dig your nails into his chest.

"That's it," he groans hands holding your hips as your moans mix with the wet squelching noise made every time you take him all in. "I want you to make a mess, baby." He grunts and thrusts up to meet your movements, watching your tits bounce with each motion. "I want you to cum on my cock, need to see how good I'm making you feel."

Your eyes flutter close as your thighs begin to shake, the familiar burn in your inner thighs forming as the knot in your abdomen grows. Each thrust has him hitting the soft spot inside you and you're seeing stars and you can't get enough. "Bucky," his name is the only coherent thing you can say between moans and gasps and Bucky's not much better.

You feel so good wrapped around him and his eyes zone in to your lower stomach. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-" Bucky curses as he realizes the bulge that appears and disappears with each thrust, is him. It's him.

And then you're falling forward as Bucky takes over, flipping you both so he's on top. Your legs find themselves over his arms as he snaps his hips into you harder and faster, his hand resting right over the bulge with each thrust.

He moves your hand to rest where his was and you can feel his cock move from inside you, and your mind blanks, body seizing up as your orgasm takes over suddenly. It makes Bucky curse more and move his thumb back down to your clit, his thrusts never letting up as he fucks you through your orgasm and chases after his own.

His eyes flicker down to your stomach again and with a few more rolls of his hips, he's pressing into you as far as he can as rope after rope of cum begins to fill you up inside. His mouth falling open, taking his turn to being the one babbling now. "Fuck, it's like you were made for me. Took me so well, and you're going to take all my cum, right? Be my good girl and let me stuff you full, yeah?"

[pomefioredove]

Hi! I love your writing style, especially how you portrait Rook, it's just how I imagine him💜

Could I request for Rook, Vil, Floyd and Azul reacting to reader calling them "love" or something affectionate for the first time? Maybe with reader realising and imploding on the inside?

Of course no pressure, I eat anything you write anyway!

-🔥

GUYS THESE PROMPTS. and thank you so much <3 I like thinking I do a good job 😭

summary: accidentally calling them "love" type of post: headcanons characters: floyd, azul, rook, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, fluff!

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

it's a quick slip of the tongue, one he might not have even noticed if he was distracted by anything else

unfortunately, today it's you that's caught his attention, and so he hears and processes every honeyed word with startling accuracy

"Could you pass me that pencil, love?"

wait. that's not what you'd said in your mind

the embarrassment is immediate, and you would have apologized if not for the big grin on his face

he goes on to brag about it to everyone for the rest of the day

...or week

however long it takes for that fuzzy feeling to wear off him

of course, at that point, he'll find you and pester you until you say it again for him

you never did get that pencil.

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

perhaps your unfortunate habit of verbalizing your subconscious thoughts has finally come around to punish you

you're in Azul's office at the lounge, and he's explaining something about budgeting

you don't... quite understand, but he seems pretty pleased with himself, so you're happy for him

"I'm so proud of you, love,"

congratulations, you broke him

he forgets everything he said and everything he was about to say

and he just stares

his face burns a bright shade of red, and for a moment he looks around the room as if he's searching for somewhere to hide

you feel bad right away, and make an attempt to explain and apologize, though your own embarrassment makes everything you say unintelligible and even more embarrassing

after a moment of watching you stammer he just shushes you

"I appreciate the compliment. Just give me a warning next time... there will be a next time, won't there?"

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

intentional or not, he's been waiting for this moment

it's late, you're tired; Rook had been dragging you around campus all day, showing you his favorite "people-watching" spots

by the time he walks you back to Ramshackle, you're happy, but completely drained

(being around Rook tends to do that)

you're too sleepy to even realize the words coming out of your mouth until it's too late

"Thank you again. Good night, love,"

his reaction is immediate

he launches into a very long soliloquy about his feelings towards you, what a wonderful day it was, and how he treasures your relationship no matter how you define it

already has some petnames of his own for you ready to go

amour, chou chou, chéri, miel, cœur...

prepare to never hear the end of this

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

Vil is actually quite used to being called all sorts of lovely things

...albeit, mostly by his fans

and if it were anyone else calling him their love, he wouldn't have even noticed

but hearing it in your voice immediately catches his attention

the sentence is so simple, of course you would've missed it. he'd simply been giving you some advice, and...

"Okay. Thank you, love,"

he would have teased you for it (lovingly, of course) if not for the fact that it made him feel flustered

him. flustered!

he stares at you until you realize what exactly you'd just said to him, and then, understandably, you freak out

trying to backtrack won't help, neither does trying to explain, or apologizing

after a moment of letting you struggle, Vil just laughs

"My, my. Don't worry yourself, I take it as a compliment. But we'll have to work on your confidence some more, won't we?"

[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if u could write something about the obey me brothers (plus diavolo if ur up for it) with an mc who randomly feeds them their own food. for example mc is snacking on chips and theyll just walk up and hold a chip to his mouth until he takes it/refuses. doesnt matter what hes doing theyll just offer a bite or two.

i do the same thing with my younger siblings and friends so its kinda like a love language. ^^

hi! sure thing :)

enjoy <3

Mc who shares their food randomly

Lucifer

he won't lie, he was confused the first time and actually asked what you were doing haha

once he learns it's just because you care, he gets the warm fuzzies

he works so much that sometimes he forgets to eat or skips it altogether in favor of getting more work done

he's very glad to have you in his life and he thinks that every time you offer him some of your food

Mammon

he's ecstatic to take snacks from you even if it's not something he likes or think he'll like

he never thought he'd be so loved

he learnt about this habit early on into your trip in the devildom and while he thought it was a little strange but he grew used to it

now he can't imagine you without that! he tries his best to reciprocate

Levi

when you offer him your snacks, he actually might not notice for a second

usually he's in the middle of gaming

but he really appreciates the habit and you <3

like lucifer, sometimes he forgets to eat since he's always in the middle of play a game so sometimes the snacks you feed him are the only snacks he gets that day

Satan

as long as any crumbs won't get on his books, he's more than happy to let you feed him

he himself is guilty of getting crumbs between the pages so if it happens on accident, he's not mad he just wants to prevent it if possible

he'll offer you a seat beside him and even if all you do is continue to snack and not share, he's happy

he loves having you around and your presence is a comfort <3

Asmo

he thinks it's so sweet!

while he has lots of fans and is very popular, you're so easily able to look past that

sometimes you don't even say anything when you offer him the snacks and he knows you do it just because you care about him

he always shows the love back with a quick hug or verbal confirmation

Beel

bestie he is SO on board!

he he wasn't already snacking he's taking it without a second thought

even if we was snacking, it's just something to mix up what he was eating

he'll be sure to tell you how tasty it was and how the flavor of the food you gave him and the food he was eating combined in his mouth haha

Belphie

he's asleep more than he's not

you might just be sitting by his side ready with snacks that you will probably eat all of in the process

when he is awake though! he couldn't be happier

he's more than happy to accept but if it's something he dislikes he's not afraid to voice it because that's more for you and less for him

Diavolo

he thinks it's very cute! he cares about you very much and he finds it very endearing

whenever you offer him your snack, he'll stop whatever he's going to turn all of his attention to you

as long as it's not pickles, he will accept

never accepts it absentmindedly, and will always always say thank you!!

[jezebelblues]

burning hill | h.s

summary: in which a girl feels too afraid of commitment because of her past, and the boy who knows nothing of it, falls helplessly anyway.

cw: smut18+ fingering, penetration (p in v), a smidge of spanking, mommy issues, 2016!harry, angst, i guess. all in upper case if that gets u goin. fem!reader, unedited cause i fell asleep writing this. gn. mwah :*

word count: approx 17k

| hhmm more coming of these 2 perhaps 🫵

ps: if u see any (!!!) around words or see random things in all caps, its cause that’s what i use to indicate (for myself in editing) italics/bold cause tumblr doesn’t save that i swear

masterlist

It’s been fifteen months since the group announced their hiatus.

Phone calls became scarce, and so many words were left unspoken, drifting into that space where they might never find their way back. For the first time in years, he felt free—untethered from the rhythm of living intertwined with three other lives. At first, the quiet felt unbearable, like the silence after the crowd fades and the lights go down. But slowly, the loneliness began to feel like home. A strange sort of comfort in the quiet. He found a semblance of privacy—at least a bit more than he had in the band.

Harry felt that, since the hiatus, the fans had grown older with him, their wide-eyed fascination dulled by time and reality. There were fewer frantic moments, fewer desperate hands pulling at him. Now, on a good day, he could stroll through his hometown, maybe get stopped for a polite photo. Occasionally, there were still shadows trailing him—paparazzi or a fan trying to be invisible but failing, always just out of reach. He didn’t like it, not really, but he’d learned to live with it. It’s what came with the territory, a price he thought he’d long accepted.

But it was the writing that kept him grounded. Kept him real. The one thing that still felt like his own. His debut album was close to finished now, though the mixing, the rewrites, the constant tweaking—it never felt like enough. There was this tightness inside him, a knot of anxiety that refused to unravel. Would anyone like Harry styles, the solo artist? Or would they always only care about Harry, the boy in the band?

He wasn’t ungrateful, not for a second. But deep down, he craved something more. He needed the space to finally figure out what he wanted, to break free, to become something else entirely. Something new.

It’s been eight months since he met YN.

It was happenstance, through his manager—though sometimes Harry liked to imagine it was fate. It was one of those coincidences that felt too deliberate to be real, like something out of a half-finished song. She was Jeff’s goddaughter, on the periphery of his world, but until then, she’d been just another name mentioned in passing.

YN started her internship at the recording studio in the beginning of April of this year. She moved to New York with a close friend shortly after her twenty first birthday, saving up for what felt like forever, and Jeffery instantly had the idea of corroborating with the studio about an internship. He knew of her uncertainty about the future. He knew about the interest in music YN had, and he wanted to give her a chance.

Jeff had told her it was a paid internship, though it really wasn’t. He was the one who was paying her through check, under the guise of the studio. She would freak if she found out, turning it all down—Jeff knew that all too well.

Her first month was moreso about passing time. She’d work on any logistics, learning about the soundboard and how it worked hand in hand with the recording aspect, not to mention the process of remastering, mixing, finalizing. Harry was in and out those first three weeks, still finishing up a few interviews and whatnot. YN talked to him a few times when he’d pop in before taking off again, he was sweet. Still, she needed something to do until he was finally able to settle down to focus on one of the last stretches of the album—and giving her busywork was just that.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office that day in May, but Jeff made her come along before they would continue their constant work at the drawing table, in the booth. It was the day he decided to cut his hair—and there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of the room, trying not to be seen, caught up in the swirl of conversations she didn’t quite belong to yet. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The way she observed everything, but didn’t feel the need to make herself known. A quiet confidence, maybe, or just a complete lack of pretense.

When she offered to help with the cut, everyone laughed, but he said yes. He didn’t know why, maybe because she didn’t treat it like this big, defining moment. The whole world was making such a fuss about his hair, like that was all he was, all he’d ever be. But YN? She just smiled, grabbed the scissors, and got to work. No ceremony, no theatrics—just a few careful snips, and suddenly he was lighter, like he could breathe again.

Afterward, they’d joked about how she should switch careers. But she’d only smiled that same quiet smile and said she was more interested in being on the other side of music. She was learning everything she could. At first, she was just there, hovering at the edge of things. But before long, she was everywhere. Quietly slipping into conversations, offering up ideas that stuck with him long after she’d left the room.

She wasn’t like the people he usually worked with. She wasn’t starry-eyed, wasn’t afraid of him or the idea of him. YN spoke to the brunette like he was just a guy making music, figuring things out. And maybe that’s what drew him in, slowly at first, then all at once. She didn’t see Harry Styles, the soloist. She saw Harry—the restless, uncertain man who wasn’t sure if he was running from his past or trying to carve out a future. He was human, an equal, not an enigma.

He caught himself thinking about her more than he should, replaying their conversations in his head when he was alone in his flat, the silence pressing in around him. She had this way of getting under his skin without even trying, making him wonder if he’d been doing everything wrong up until now. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the first person to make him feel like he didn’t need to have all the answers.

There was something magnetic about her, a pull he couldn’t quite shake. He’d see her in the studio, headphones on, scribbling notes on a track they’d been working on, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cared about the music, really cared, and he respected that more than he could say. In the rare moments she’d look up and catch him watching, she’d smile—soft and unassuming, as if she wasn’t at the center of this storm he was slowly getting lost in.

He’d thought about it, late at night when the studio was empty, and all he had were his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was the music that kept him coming back, or if it was something else entirely.

But the truth was, ever since she walked into his life, the world didn’t feel as heavy. It didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

YN had a quiet way of carrying herself, something light and untouchable, like she’d mastered the art of being present without ever fully giving herself away. It was part of what made her so magnetic, Harry thought, but it also kept her at arm’s length—just out of reach. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed there were pieces of her story she wasn’t ready to share, things she held onto with a grip so tight, it almost hurt to watch.

Her father had been older when she was born, older than Jeff was, at least—a man who had already been through his share of mistakes and regrets by the time he met Jeffery in college. YN’s dad had been trying to start over, to build something solid for himself after years of wandering. They clicked right away—two guys who didn’t have much in common on the surface, but who understood each other in the ways that mattered. Jeff was young, still wide-eyed and ambitious, while YN’s father had lived a little longer, seen more of the mess the world had to offer. They bonded over that, and when YN was born, Jeff had been right there, practically family.

YN’s mother had left when she was just a baby. No warning, no messy custody battle, just gone. Her dad was the moon, always there—faintly during the day when he worked, but always present by night. Her mother was a solar eclipse, popping up in certain areas every now and then, but never staying. Maybe she’d call and wish her a belated happy birthday, or send a card for Christmas that year. She was always fleeting. And YN thought herself the stars, always there, always ever connected to the two despite time and space.

So, her father had raised her on his own, doing his best with what little he had. Jeff had been named godfather not long after her birth, and though he didn’t say much about it, YN knew he’d always carried a quiet kind of guilt. Like maybe if he’d been around more, her life might’ve been different. She never blamed him, of course—she adored Jeff, looked at him like he was some kind of anchor in her life, a second father figure, someone she could always count on. But there was no denying that a part of her had been shaped by absence, by the cold reality of her mother’s abandonment.

She didn’t talk about her mother much. When they’d first started getting to know each other, Harry had asked her once—offhandedly, without thinking—and the way her expression shifted, the way her walls shot up so quickly, he knew not to push. He’d seen it before, in himself, the instinct to hide away when the past felt too close.

Harry didn’t know much about her. They hadn’t talked about personal things, not really. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, not with anyone, and especially not with people like Harry—people who had the world’s attention, people who might think she was just another girl with a tragic backstory. But he knew she was Jeff’s goddaughter, that she was interning at the studio, trying to figure out if music was the career she wanted. He knew her favorite artist and color, knew her favorite subject in school and her best friend’s name—Marisol. He knew she preferred sunsets over sunrises, mountains and forests over beaches. But it felt superficial, barely scraping the surface. He wanted to know more. She seemed talented, driven, but there was something else—something in the way she held herself back.

There were moments when he’d catch her smile, but it was always soft, fleeting. Like she was offering a glimpse of something deeper but never letting him get too close. It intrigued him, the way she could be so kind yet so guarded, as if she’d learned not to give too much away. It was a look he recognized, one he saw in himself sometimes, when the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of his solo career pressed too heavily on his shoulders. But with YN, it felt different. It felt like something that had been there long before she ever stepped into the studio.

Moving to New York had been her way of starting over. She’d wanted to escape the weight of her past, to carve out a life that was her own. Jeff had given her that opportunity, and even though she hadn’t been sure it was what she wanted at first, she found herself falling into the rhythm of it. The work was hard sometimes, but it felt good, like maybe she was finally building something of her own. But even here, in this new city with new faces, YN still felt that familiar pull—the instinct to keep her distance, to protect herself from getting too attached.

He wasn’t sure she’d let him in, anyway. YN was like that—careful, cautious. Maybe she always would be.

In June, a little over two months since YN started working in the studio, she and Harry had formed an easy, steadying friendship. YN wasn’t like most people in his world. She understood his music in a way that felt rare—intimately, deeply, as if she could feel the weight of each word before he even sang it. It touched him more than he could admit.

But as much as he was drawn to her, Harry could sense the distance she kept between them. It wasn’t obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice, but there was a part of YN that stayed hidden. She had a warmth to her—she was kind, smart, and always knew exactly what to say when he asked for her help. But when it came to the deeper parts of herself, the parts Harry desperately wanted to know, she stayed locked away. He saw it in the way she smiled when something hit too close to home, or the way she never let conversations stray too far from the task at hand. It was as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself, and no one—not even him—was allowed through.

But he knew better than to push. For now, their connection revolved around the music.

Sometime in early June, they were hunched over in their usual studio chairs, working on the final track of his debut album. The song had taken weeks to perfect, but they were close now—closer than they had been. From the Dining Table was raw, achingly personal and YN, somehow, had helped him shape it into something even more honest than it had started.

“What if you lean into the third verse more?” She suggested, her pen tapping the page thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, but it's like you're not letting yourself feel it fully. Especially in that second verse–maybe one day you’ll me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too. You're pulling back right when you should lean into it."

Harry stopped playing with the strings on his guitar and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do y’mean?"

She hummed, biting her lip as she considered the words, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “Maybe drop the keys lower in the last chorus..” She trailed off, lost in her own thought process. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly as she studied the lyrics. "It's heavy, but it could be even more vulnerable. You're singing about something really personal here, about the kind of loneliness that feels like it's eating you alive. But in the melody, it feels..safe. I think you need to make the vocals feel a bit more broken, like you're barely holding it together. Let the silence in the song do some of the work. Think about pulling back on the production, too–keep it more stripped down.” She laughed lightly, a bit sheepish. “If that makes sense.”

Harry nodded slowly, the words hanging in the air between them. She got it. She always got it. The lyrics had been twisting inside him for weeks, and it was YN’s careful guidance that had finally helped him pull them into something real, something tangible. He picked up his guitar, adjusting the chords she mentioned, and played the verse again. The notes hung heavier in the air this time, more space, more quiet.

“There.” YN murmured. “That’s what it needed—the space between the words, the silence. That's where the emotion is."

For the next few hours, they went back and forth, fine-tuning the melody and adjusting the lyrics. YN suggested cutting down the instrumentation, making it feel more intimate, like a conversation Harry was having with himself. And as the song started to take shape, Harry felt a weight lifting. It’s what he wanted for the song, it deserved this rawness, this vulnerability.

Over the next two weeks, they worked tirelessly on the track, tweaking the lyrics, adjusting the production. YN had suggested subtle changes in the arrangement—adding faint background harmonies, letting the piano take the lead in certain sections. It was her idea to introduce a low hum in the final chorus, something atmospheric that made the song feel like it was dissolving into the empty spaces of the room. Harry trusted her instincts completely by now, her intelligence and understanding of the music so sharp that he barely needed to question her advice. She had a way of knowing what the song needed, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

By the time they reached the last day of recording that track, the song had transformed into something that felt like a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. It was time to play it for the team, to record the final version that would make it onto the album. She didn’t hear it in its entirety yet, only the parts Harry would reveal that he wanted insight on.

The band was ready, gathered behind their instruments, and the rest of the team sat in the control room, waiting to hear what he had spent weeks perfecting. The studio felt heavier than usual, the air thick with anticipation. Harry glanced over at YN, who was standing by the glass that separated the studio from the control room, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. She was watching him, as she always did, but there was something different in her eyes tonight. He couldn’t place it—something softer, more vulnerable than usual.

Harry picked up his guitar, gave the band a nod, and stepped up to the mic. The first notes echoed through the room, soft and haunting. His voice followed, low and steady, each lyric pouring out an isolation he had written into the song, each verse dripping in melancholy. The room around him seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just him, the music, and the truth of what he was singing.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word sorry, just as it had in practice. But this time, it felt different. More real. More final.

As the song continued, Harry’s gaze flickered over to YN. She was still standing by the glass, but something had changed. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on him, wide and shimmering with unshed tears. It was subtle at first—a quick blink, a shift of her expression—but then he saw it. A tear slipped down her cheek, and YN quickly brushed it away, trying to hide the emotion that was overtaking her.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

By the time the song ended, the room was filled with the soft, fading echoes of the final notes. Harry stood still, the guitar resting against his chest, his breath uneven. He watched as YN slowly stepped forward, closer to the glass, her eyes still glistening. She rested her hand gently on the pane, the only thing separating them, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed. That nod, that single moment of unspoken approval, meant more than words ever could. She understood—she always had. But seeing her moved by the song, seeing the tears she tried so hard to hide, told Harry more about her than she’d ever let on.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had reached her core, even if just for a second. And as the team buzzed with quiet admiration for the track, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from YN. Because in that small, fragile moment, she had let her walls down. Just enough.

And Harry realized, standing there with the music still humming through his veins, that maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt something more between them. Maybe YN wasn’t as unreachable as he had once thought.

July had seemed to’ve breeze past, almost gone in a daze. It was Friday, and there would only be two more Fridays left till they would have to flip the colander pages to August. The heat of the day still mingled in the air as the studio settled into its usual weekend quiet. The crew had all left for the night, tired but satisfied after wrapping another long day of recording. The album was nearing completion, and the tension that had built up over the past few months was finally starting to lift. Harry could feel it—the sense of relief, of something monumental coming to an end—but there was still so much hanging in the air between him and YN, at least that’s what he felt.

They were alone in the lounge now, the soft glow of the low lights casting faded shadows on the walls. YN sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she sipped from a recently topped-off flute of champagne, her eyes tired but content. They had opened the bottle to celebrate finishing another track, Two Ghosts. YN wasn’t there when the production first started for this song, only there for the finalized remastering of it that finished today—and she had insisted he must celebrate, the fizzy sweetness a small reward for everything he’s been pouring into the album.

"Cheers!” Harry had laughed, clinking his glass against hers with a lopsided grin. "One more down."

He didn’t quite remember what glass he was on, but he could feel the familiar buzz of being tipsy, like he could float. Besides the lounge, the rest of the building was dark, only light seeping through was from the city outside. Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, the remnants of his drink swirling lazily in his glass. He felt relaxed—more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the fact that they were finally nearing the end of the album. But it wasn't just that. It was YN, too.

And god, she looked gorgeous.

She dressed down for the day, knowing it was Friday and she could fall into bed as soon as she got home. A hoodie hung loosely over her frame, the pair of lounge shorts coming a little bit above her mid thigh. The alcohol seemed to give her eyes more of a sparkle, her skin flush—Harry wondered if alcohol could make him look as pretty as she, but he ended up on the conclusion of probably not.

“I know I said this already.” She giggled, taking a sip of the bubbly. Her smile was hazy, eyes clouded over. “But the song sounds great.” She enthusiastically sent him a thumbs up, the bottom of his feet against the bend of her knees as his legs remained sprawled out over the couch. The curly haired boy already asked if he should move to give her more space, but her dismissal was a shouted, pleading whine of no, stay! “You should be famous or something.” She sent him a wink, and he couldn’t stifle the laughter that escaped him from how slow and exaggerated she’d done it.

The lightness in the air was contagious, and they both seemed to be floating, untethered and free from the usual tension. He rested his temple against the back cushion of the sofa, his lazy grin seemingly impossible to wipe off. “Dunno, sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll jus’ start a bakery instead.” He shrugged, taking a swig of what was left in the flute after parting ways between his head and the cushion beside him. “Styles’ Pies, what d’you think?”

YN snorted, nearly spilling her champagne as she pictured it. “You? In a bakery? I don’t even think you can make toast without burning it.”

Harry’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Hey, m’great in the kitchen. You’ve just never seen me in action.”

“Oh really?” YN arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. She set her glass down on the table, waving her hand as if conducting an imaginary cooking show. “Alright, Chef Styles, what’s your signature dish? Burnt toast with a side of undercooked eggs?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I? That was one time!”

“Ah-ha!” She teased, biting her lip to hold back another laugh. “You know, they might not even let you into the bakery with that track record. Health code violations, and all.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry huffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a master at making..” He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Pancakes.”

YN burst into laughter again, this time nearly doubling over, gently clasping her fingers around his ankles for support. “Pancakes? Oh god, I bet you’d flip them right onto the floor.”

“Oi, that’s not true!” Harry was laughing now too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the easy back-and-forth. YN had placed her hands back into her lap after grabbing her glass again, legs still tucked underneath her. “I’ve got skills. Just wait. I’ll cook f’you one day, and you’ll be begging for more. You’ll never want to leave m’kitchen.”

She wiped away a tear from her drunken laughter, a banter that probably would not be as entertaining if she was sober. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be your taste tester—but don’t be mad if I spit it out.”

“Oh, y’ruthless tonight, huh?” He nudged her playfully with his foot, legs still draped along the sofa. “Well, if pancakes don’t win y’over, I’ll just serenade you with some of m’songs. You won’t stand a chance.”

YN’s laughter turned into a snort as she brought the flute to her lips, taking another sip before grinning at him. “Woo me with your guitar? Play a little ditty about burnt toast?”

Harry leaned forward, dramatically mimicking strumming an invisible guitar, his expression serious as he sang, “Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two..”

YN feigned a cringe, holding her ands out in front of her as if to block the very sight of him. The tune was cute, but she would never admit that. Harry could barely keep it together as he leaned back against the sofa’s arm, rolling his eyes as she finally lowered her hands. “And I’ll have you know I worked n’a bakery in Holmes Chapel, favorite employee, too.”

“My god, aren’t you a prodigy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as if pretending to be bashful. “Singer, songwriter, baker of the month.”

“Y’damn right.”He tipped an imaginary hat on his head, “I contain multitudes.” He winked, a better one that YN had sent earlier, his grin wide and a little bit tipsy.

They sat in the comfortable silence that followed, both of them still chuckling under their breath, the champagne buzzing through their veins like a soft lullaby. Harry glanced over at YN, her face flushed from laughter, her body relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. She looked free. Happy. And it did something to his chest, a tug he couldn’t ignore.

“Hey.” he said softly, stretching his ankle ever so slightly to gently nudge her knee with his foot. “Y’having fun?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she glanced at him. “Yeah. I am.” Her voice was quieter now, the playful energy of a moment ago still lingering, but with something else creeping in. Something softer, more intimate.

Harry smiled back, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did around her. “Good, m’glad.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words coming out slower, as if she was trying to steady herself. “You’re..not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d y’expect?”

She hummed, “Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on the cushion. “Someone a little more, I don’t know–untouchable? Like, y’know, the harry styles,’ the big deal. But you’re just harry styles, my friend.”

He laughed softly, playing with the hem of his bright pink shorts. “Jus’ me, huh? Guess that’s not s’bad.”

“It’s not.” She smiled, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something heavier, like an acknowledgment of everything unspoken.

Harry shifted, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten during her revelation. His hand, which had been resting on her knee, slid a little higher, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her thigh. The playful banter was still there, but it was quieter now, replaced by a tension that neither of them could deny any longer.

“Y’know.”she said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “I still don’t believe you can make pancakes.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should make you breakfast tomorrow morning then.”

YN’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at his words, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Harry’s lips were on hers. She instantly melted into it, as if an instinct. However, after a beat, the palm of her hand pressed against his shoulder. Their lips slowly separated, strings of saliva snapping at the middle from their mutual departure. Her breath rose and fell rapidly, a small smile on her lips. “How are you gonna make pancakes at the st–.”

Harry had cut her off with a groan, but it was humorous, mixed with his giggles. “Y’stopped that t’get technical?”

YN shrugged before pulling him back into the kiss, unwavering, still. It was tentative for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to push away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, lips in sync as she deepened their kiss.

The taste of the fruity champagne lingered between them, intoxicating and heady. It grew hungrier, more desperate as if months of unresolved tension had finally snapped. YN’s tongue found itself swiping a soft stripe against his bottom lip, a heavy sigh emerging from him as his fingers brushed along the hem of her hoodie, slipping his hands underneath, his palm resting on the warm curve of her waist.

“H–” She whispered against his lips, her voice breathy, almost a plea. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.

His name on her lips drive him mad. With a low grown, he shifted, pulling her into his lap in one fluid motion. Her legs straddled him, holding herself as close to him as she could, their kisses turning feverish. His large hands pulled her even closer—not a centimeter of space to be left. He parted his lips, a broken breath tumbling from his mouth as she started to roll her hips against his growing cock stuck underneath the hot pink shorts.

His ring clad fingers slip father up her hoodie, the coolness of the medal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the both of them. Harry tugged on the fabric, pulling it over her head in a rush, revealing the thin bralette underneath. “Fuck–” He mumbled, breath caressing her skin as his lips skimmed the bone of her jawline, placing a slow, tentative kiss right at her pulse point. “So beautiful.” He was drunk in the moment that was her—figuratively and literally—his voice distant and light, like a voice breaking through a daydream.

She rolled her hips harder against him as his hands slipped under the hem of her shorts, lips sloppily trailing her chest, her nose buried in his curls. A soft moan is drawn from her as Harry’s hands grip her ass, aiding her movements of dry humping his cock. His tongue grazed the fleshy part of her breast that threatened to spill out of her bra, a shuddering exhale brushing from her lips, right into his disheveled locks.

She hastily cups his chin, pulling him from her chest to messily kiss him again. She wanted to taste the faint peach on his tongue from the champagne, to feel the stubble above his lip tickling against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths, her fingers running down his shirt, tugging at the hem. He smiles, parting from her to pull his shirt off. It was rushed, his chin getting caught in the collar which made laughter sit between them comfortably. YN gently helps him pull the shirt from his head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, its whereabouts not a priority.

Their cheeks are flush, lips plump and vibrant as they fall into each other’s eyes—their giggles fading out and their heavy breaths replacing it. “I want you.” She whispered, her gaze trailing from his eyes, to his lips, along the markings of his torso, then back up again.

He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

She hummed, though it sounded similar to a purr—a divinely feminine melody that made him twitch under the fabric that held him from her. “Yeah.”

He gives her a quick peck before tapping her thigh and guiding her off his lap. He looks at her as his thumb slips under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, his glance expectant of some sort of approval or denial.

Her hands reach back behind her, unclasping the bra and letting the straps fall from her shoulders; to which he took that as his go ahead. Harry bucks his hips from the couch, tugging the clothing down his legs and letting it fall onto the floor. His cock slapped against his abdomen from the sheer force of how quickly he freed himself. It was bigger than she had expected, the head a pretty pink that glistened with precum.

He didn’t give her a chance to react for herself as he pulled along her bare waist, ushering YN back onto him. He planted kisses along her breast, the hem of her shorts sitting right against his chest, his large hands holding her inches above the cock she so desperate to fill herself up with.

His tongue encircled the bud of her nipple, one hand still gripping her ass to keep her pressed against his chest, above his length—while the other fell a tad lower, his index and middle finger slipping underneath the leg of her shorts and panties, brushing along her wet folds.

She could feel his lips spread into a smirk before he began to suck on her nipple. She buried her face into his curls, grasping onto the roots as his digits sat at the entrance of her core, heat radiating from her cunt as her arousal soaked the tips of his fingers. She whimpers, wanting to grind down on them and fill her up until his knuckles sat harshly against her folds, but he held her in place—the grip on the soft part of her ass feeling rougher. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, though her face is hidden in his hair, he still revels in it. “Y’that desperate for it, hm?”

She nods against the top of his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Harry.” She whined, fingers tightly laced between his locks. “Fuck–please, I need it.”

His mouth finds its way back to her tits as he eases his thick fingers into her cunt, tauntingly slow. Her walls fluttered around him, a soft moan escaping her as he pumped his fingers in and out, the sound of her wetness was hot, filthy—the way it bounced around the room. It only made him harder knowing that no one else will know what happened here besides them.

He curls his digits into a spot that makes her hips buck harder against his chest, a yelp emitting from the top of her throat, which he takes as a moment to smack the fleshy part of her ass, it wasn’t very hard, as if he was testing the waters to try to understand what she needed. Judging from the noises she made, and how her bum seemed to push a slight wiggle into the palm of his hand, he figured she liked it.

He pumps his fingers faster, his knuckles almost pounding against her core as he sneaks the opportunity to spank her again. A string of profanities and whiny pleas fell from her, her hands falling to a grip on his shoulders as he coaxed her to the brink of coming on just his fingers alone.

His lips are sloppy against her chest, more focused on how his digits buried themselves into her pussy. Her words aren’t coherent, a ringing faint in her ears as she tightens around him, her hips erupting into a shudder as she rides out her orgasm. He lightens the grip from her bum, allowing her to roll her hips with his fingers still deep inside her, basking in how she tried to milk herself of every drop she could.

Once her movements still, he slowly pulls out of her, the two making eye contact as he brings the two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them prettily, licking her arousal from the source.

Her breaths were heavy, eyes darkened as she watched the dirtiest thing play out in front of her. His eyes flutter to a close, a smirk speaking across his lips as if it was the most heavenly thing he’s tasted; she already feels the knot in her tummy tightening again.

She pulls him into a kiss, meeting each other harshly as she tastes herself from his lips. His hands brush along the small of her back, then to her hips, slipping the shorts and panties down her legs and off her ankles with an awkward, momentary shift in position to do so. She lowers herself as much as he’d allow, his lips stilling as he feels her heat against the head of his cock. He pulls away slightly, forehead against hers with a small flicker of disappointment on his features. “I don’t have a condom.” His voice low and raspy, thick with lust as he held her against him once again, unable to fill herself as she desired.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes meeting his. “M’on the pill.” She whispered, voice breathy and light from her previous orgasm.

His eyebrows furrowed, gaze unwavering in hers. This is something he normally would never do, fucking someone unprotected. But the way his cock ached for her was damn near painful, and he trusted her. A friend he’d come to cherish, although in the back of his mind, he wanted her more than a friend. He darted his eyes between hers and the way her tummy fluttered with heavy breath. His glance was expectant again, silently needing approval to even think of continuing.

She wiggled her hips in his grasp once more, her a whiny plea a soft mutter—and it’s all he needed to hear. She sank onto his length, a slow strain befell them from how he had to ease his cock into her pussy, stretching her out with every upward motion of his hips.

The feeling of him filling her was addicting to both, pleasured sighs and moans emitting from each of them as she adjusted around his length, sinking down the shaft completely. Only a beat had past before she started to roll her hips into him, adjusting to the feeling of him. One hand sat sprawled against her back, will the other remained on her ass. Harry’s head leaned along the edge of the couch, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way her tits moved as she began to bounce on his length, having him draw sharp inhale at the feeling. “Jus’ like that.” He groaned, the hand on her back and bum guiding her movements. “Good girl–y’feel so good, jus–” He cuts off his own sentence with a moan, his head falling forward now, just a bit. His forehead grazed along her shoulder—barely—every time she’d bob up the length of his cock. “Like that, bunny–fuck.” His voice was breathy, listening to the pretty moans that escaped her and the way her cunt sounded riding his cock.

His hand slid down her back, both gripping her ass a bit roughy as he guided her movements with more force. Her lips fell agape, a whimper falling out now and then as Harry held her weight as if it was nothing, moving her up and down his thick cock with an ease that made her cry out his name.

He pushed and pulled her onto him greedily, her head falling onto his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers, watching as he pounded her onto the base of his length. The sharp sounds of skin against skin mixed in with their moans, a cacophony of their pleasure filling the lounge.

He loosened his grip from her bum, smacking her ass as his other hand gathered her hair into his fist, jerking her head back to force a semblance of eye contact. The palm of his other hand rested over her thigh, continuing to guide her movements though the momentum from her own hands against his shoulders was enough.

He knew he was close, and the way her noises got louder, how her cunt tightened around him—Harry knew she was close, too. The tiny fraction of him that held an ounce of logic through his drunken pleasure told him to pull out, but it fell to the back of his mind, silenced with the sound of his own moans and the way his length twitched, the knot in his belly rounding tightly. “Look at me.” He forced through a grunt, his toes curling against the carpet and his jaw tightened as he tried to stall his release.

The grip on his shoulders was lethal, though the only thing he could feel was her pussy fluttering around him. Her hair was still balled tightly in his fist, craning her head into a position where their foreheads were only a few inches away—the only thing that would keep her from looking if she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t though.

His hand pushed harder against her thigh, both of their skin flushed a pink from the force of the contact of the way her ass and thighs slapped along his pelvis. “Say my name–” His groan was guttural, as if he was teetering on the edge of losing his composure. With his grip still in her hair, he pressed her forehead into his, both slick with a gleam of sweat. “When you come—say it.” He grunted, eyes meeting hers once again. “Or I won’t let you.”

She felt her legs to tremble, her lips parting as the cries and whimpers of his name escaped her like a mantra. His chest rose and fell unevenly, pressing her forehead into hers further as they met their release simultaneously. Thick ropes of come fill her cunt to the point where it drips out around him. Their breaths are heavy and quick, his hands soft against the skin of her legs as they tremble, pressing his lips atop her shoulders as she sinks into his chest.

*

The next morning arrived in a hazy blur. The sky was gray as it prepared itself for a summer thunderstorm. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the window caused him to stir first, a wince from feeling the stiffness in his neck before anything else. His back was pressed awkwardly into the couch, his arm draped around something soft and warm. He blinked his eyes open, the dull light from the stormy sky offering not very much of anything as it bled through the blinds. The familiar scent of the studio mixed with something more intoxicating—YN.

He nudged his chin down to glance at the girl curled up on his chest, his shirt from last night adorning her frame as soft snores fell from her mouth. Their legs were tangled together underneath a thin throw blanket with Christmas patterns he didn’t remember grabbing before passing out. The events of last night came in a rushed haze from the smell of the champagne on his own breath. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but the movement pulled YN from her slumber. She let out a small groan before nuzzling deeper into his bare chest, not wanting to let go of the warmth.

The smell of Harry’s cologne caused her eyes to peel open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she took in her surroundings.

“Morning.” Harry had rasped out, voice still thick with sleep.

She blinked, and then placed her palms against his chest to push herself up. She glanced around the studio with the turn of her head, then back at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her hair was disheveled, Harry’s discarded shirt hung loosely around her—she could feel the thickness of his come seeping out of her, pooling in her underwear and forming a dampened spot. “Oh my god.”

He winced involuntarily, and this time it wasn’t from the ache in his neck. “Um.” He paused, voice cautious. “Yeah.”

YN bit her lip, sitting up fully as she slipped into a spot between his thighs. The cushion was soft against her bum as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Yeah.” She echoed his words, unsure of what to say.

Harry had scoot up slightly, the small of his back against the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his neck, sighing from the crick he developed for sleeping in such an awkward position. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes still a bit dazed from the remnants of sleep and the weight of their shared moment. YN offered him a small smile, “Mhm.” She hummed, but an uncertainty glimmered along the edge of her pupil, unsure of what came next. “Not exactly used to waking up like this, I guess–but I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, though a frown threatened to spread across his lips. He reached out hesitantly, palm resting on her knee as he sighed. “You regret it?” He asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

Her face seemed to soften at his words, sincerity and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. A furrow formed in her forehead as she shook her head, placing a hand on top of the one he sat on her knee. “No, H. ‘Course not.” She paused, shifting in her seat before forcing herself to stand, his hand slipping from her knee back into his own lap. It felt cold, and he knew she was pulling away. She very quickly stripped Harry’s shirt off—to which he averted his eyes to the ground—shrugging back on her own hoodie and shorts.

“YN.” Harry mumbled, his voice shaking as he pulled his shirt back over his head. She seemed distracted, slipping her shoes back on and putting her phone into the hoodie pocket before she trailed back toward Harry, gazing down at where he sat on the couch. He had looked at her the way he always seemed to look at her, eyes full of things that would stay unsaid. “What does this mean?”

She kneeled before him almost immediately, combing her fingers through his hair in a moment of comfort. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Her voice was soft, kind, as if that was the thing he wanted to hear. “We’re friends, this won’t make it weird, okay?”

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as he nodded with slight trepidation, wishing she would just open herself up and allow him to hold her, to show her that he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t regret it, never ever.” She murmured, ducking her head down a bit to meet his gaze that seemed to lower at her words. “I swear it.”

He forced a smile, her hand pulling away from his curls—the curls she previously moaned into, the hair that she tangled her fingers in from an orgasm that crashed over her like a wave. He swallowed dryly as she back stood up, still not looking away from him. A defeat settled over him, an impatient longing as he realized if he was ever going to have a chance with the woman before him, he’d have to wait. He didn’t know what pain she held, the things she guarded so strongly, but he knew she would have to admit to herself first that she was worthy of something good. Harry parted his lips, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Stay friends?” He asked expectantly, holding out a pinky to her.

She smiled, a sad one, however. She wanted to wrap him into her arms and apologize for making the choice to walk away, but she felt it was best. YN believed she wasn’t what he deserved, and it would be in his best interest to pretend like everything went back to normal. She lowered her hand, intertwining her pinky with his. “Stay friends.”

On August fourth, The studio was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the late afternoon sun filtering through the one window in the control room. Everyone, besides YN and Harry, went out for their lunch break. Harry had asked if she would help her tweak the soon-to-be third track on the album, Carolina.

Since waking up from the sex they had in the lounge, they hadn’t brought it up—though it didn’t disappear. There would be moments where it loomed over them, heavy and unrelenting. It took everything in them not to bridge that specific gap, took everything in Harry not to bend her over the soundboard to feel her again, took everything in him not to fall to his knees before her, hugging her legs while he cried about how he was helplessly falling for her.

It was the hottest day of the year, and though the air conditioner was humming in a low buzz, the air was thick with warmth. The kind of still, lingering heat that made everything feel slow and hazy, like time itself had paused for a moment. Harry picked up his guitar, fingers brushing over the strings, testing the familiar weight of it in his hands. The sound of the first strum seemed to melt into the air, easy, relaxed, as if the room itself was humming along to the rhythm.

She kneeled down, across from the spot Harry sat on the floor, guitar in lap. She pressed on certain strings on specific parts of the neck, eyes flickering between Harry and the instrument expectantly. They both knew the notes and the chords, the tone it could give. “Try those notes.”She murmured, moving Harry’s Hand from where it sat on the neck to where she wanted his fingers to be. Her touch was delicate, and if Harry didn’t reground himself he would’ve forgot what was happening all together. “Lean into the groove more?” Her words were laced with a light chuckle as she stood up, looking back down at the brunette on the floor. “Loosen up a bassline, could add some layered harmonies, something subtle, but it'll give the track more depth."

Harry's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement that always seemed to come alive when YN shared her thoughts. She had this uncanny way of making the most complex ideas sound simple. He nodded eagerly, strumming a few playful chords, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty studio. "Yeah, that's it.” He whispered to himself excitedly, already hearing the song in his head. He began playing, the cords, melody bright and carefree, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—no longer weighed down by deadlines or pressure, but filled with something light. Harry stood up without a word, the grin never leaving his face as he strummed the revisioned tune, the guitar hanging casually from his shoulder as he waltzed across the room, his voice bouncing with the light-hearted lyrics. The brunette’s footsteps were lazy, carefree, his long legs carrying him in wide, exaggerated circles as he moved with the rhythm, his laughter spilling out between the lyrics. It was easy—so easy—that the line between the song and the moment blurred.

“She’s a good girl.”

his voice bright and full of mischief as he twirled past her, catching her eye. He wiggled his eyebrows, a playful challenge, daring her to join in.

YN couldn’t help herself, he was infectious . She laughed, the sound so genuine and pure it filled the air. She pushed away from the soundboard, and before she could even think of hesitation, she was dancing and hopping around in time to the music, letting herself get lost along with him.

“Such a good girl”

She really was, like when he buried himself between her legs a few weeks ago.

The hem of her dainty sundress swept around her shins in a slow, lazy twirl. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the guitar, light and unguarded, like the weight of the world had lifted, just for this one moment.

Harry’s voice followed her as he floated around, his fingers never missing a beat. The melody was effortless, the chords bright and warm like the fading summer light that filled the room. His gaze flicked toward her every few seconds, catching the way she moved, her arms outstretched as she spun in gentle circles, her hair catching the golden light in soft waves.

The whole scene felt like something out of time, like they had stepped into an old, grainy film reel—faded sun, carefree laughter, and the kind of simplicity that made everything else fade into the background. There was no rush, no pressure, just the music and the way they moved through it together.

Harry kept playing, his voice growing louder, more animated, as he circled back to her, his laughter echoing in the small space. He swayed, leaning into the guitar as he strummed, almost tripping over a cable but catching himself at the last second with a dramatic flourish. YN continued her movements, her arms floating through the air, soft and unhurried, like she was dancing with the music itself.

And then, in one smooth motion, Harry waltzed closer, standing just a few feet away from her as he played the final chorus. His smile was wide, eyes bright with the joy of the moment, and YN met his gaze with the same carefree energy, spinning one last time before she collapsed against the stool, breathless from her giggles.

The last chord hung in the air for a moment longer, lingering like the final rays of sunlight spilling through the window. The room was still humming with the energy they’d created, the echoes of their laughter and the bright notes of the guitar lingering in the walls. Harry let the guitar slide gently to his side, leaning against the stool as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with YN’s, her face flushed and glowing. He was grinning, the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made his dimples crater.

For a second, everything felt perfect, untouched by the noise of the outside world. It was just the two of them, the fading summer light, and the echo of a song that hadn’t yet been recorded but already felt like it was carved into their shared memory.

All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She was perched on her chair now, her legs crossed, still smiling from their little impromptu dance. She glowed with the warmth of the sun filtering in through the window. The carefree, playful energy between them began to settle, but the air didn’t lose its charge. Instead, something softer slipped into the space between them, a kind of comfortable quiet as they both let the last traces of laughter fade away.

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back a few stray curls as he looked over at her, the easy grin still tugging at his lips. The guitar rested against his knee as he sat down, but he didn’t play, didn’t move. He was just watching her now, the way her fingers traced absentminded circles on the edge of the stool, the way her gaze was still bright with that unguarded laughter. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, fully present—and Harry found himself caught in the moment, not wanting it to end.

Just as that night in July, when we pulled her into her chest to sleep for the night—when it felt like he could call her his as he wrapped his arms around her, basking in their afterglow.

YN let out a soft sigh, the last of her breathless laughter leaving her, and when she looked at him, her expression shifted. Something quieter, more serious. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something almost reverent, like she was seeing him—really seeing him.

“You know, Harry.” She smiled, her voice gentle but firm, like she was about to say something important. “This album–” There was a pause as she exhaled through her nose, but it was light from her enthused realization. “It’s going to go down as a classic. It’s real. You’re real. Your talent, the rawness of it—it’s something people won’t forget.”

The words landed between them like a weight, soft but undeniable. Harry felt his heart skip, his smile faltering just slightly as her words settled in. He’d heard compliments before—so many, often thrown around casually—but this… this was different. The sincerity in her voice, the way her eyes held his, unflinching, unwavering, as if she wasn’t just saying something kind, but something true.

For a moment, the room seemed to shift around him. It was like the air grew thicker, the light softer, the world quieter. He felt exposed, in a way he hadn’t expected, like her words had peeled back a layer he’d been hiding under, a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. The compliment wasn’t just about the music, wasn’t just about the work they’d been doing. It felt personal, like she saw him—not the version of him the world saw, not Harry, the soloist, but him, Harry. The guy trying to figure it all out, pouring every piece of himself into this album, hoping that it would matter.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He thought about telling her thank you.

He thought about remaining speechless.

No one had told him something like that in a long time—not like this, not with this kind of weight. He could feel his chest tightening, his pulse thrumming a little too fast, the gravity of her words sinking deeper than he thought they would.

He thought about her words.

He thought about her.

“YN, I—” He started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she understood him more than he’d ever realized. Maybe that was why her words felt so heavy, why they struck him in a way nothing else had. Because they came from her.

He thought about how much he wanted to say he was starting to fall in love with her.

But before he could say anything else, the door to the studio swung open with a loud creak, breaking the moment like a pebble dropped into still water. The team was back, their voices filling the room as they filed in, the soft hum of conversation and the shuffle of papers cutting through the silence that had wrapped around him and YN.

“Alright, alright, back to it.” Jeff chuckled, ever the dad friend, clapping his hands as he made his way toward the control board. The mood shifted, the studio returning to its usual buzz of activity, the easy rhythm of work settling back into place.

Harry blinked, the spell of the moment breaking as he straightened up, shaking off the sudden heaviness in his chest. YN gave him a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding a trace of the warmth from before, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She’d already said what mattered.

She knew the look in Harry’s eye.

She had thought about how much she missed him.

She thought about how much that scared her.

With a soft sigh, Harry adjusted the guitar on his lap, nodding as the team gathered around, discussing admin details, technical tweaks, and publicity strategies for the album’s release. The room was buzzing again, the easy laughter and lightness of earlier replaced with the steady hum of work. But Harry’s mind was still lingering on what YN had said, the quiet sincerity of her words looping in the back of his mind.

As the evening stretched on, the work became more mechanical—emails, calls, planning—but Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t shake the way she drifted around the room earlier, like a dandelion wisp dancing in the wind. How her laugh sounded so pretty he wanted to put it in a song. How real it had felt when she’d looked at him and told him what his music would become. It was a compliment, sure, but it was more than that. It was a belief. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like someone saw him exactly as he was, and believed in him all the same.

That day at the studio soon began to draw to a close, the golden light from earlier now softening into deep ambers and long shadows. The room, once buzzing with activity, had fallen into a more relaxed rhythm as the team packed up their things, saying their goodbyes with tired but satisfied smiles. The project was moving, inching closer to the finish line.

Harry leaned back, watching from the corner of the room as the last of the crew made their way to the door. The sounds of zippers closing and bags being slung over shoulders filled the space, each member of the team calling out their see-you-laters, their voices fading as they spilled out into the hallway. One by one, they disappeared, until the door swung shut with a final, quiet click, leaving just Harry and YN behind.

The silence settled in slowly, wrapping itself around the room like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the kind of silence that felt more like a presence than an absence, thick and heavy with something unspoken. Harry ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar one last time before placing it back on its stand, the metal strings catching the fading light. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, like he was trying to hold on to the quiet a little longer.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that YN was still at the small table near the edge of the room, shuffling her things about. She was moving slower than usual, her hands hovering over her notebook, lingering on the scattered papers like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Harry chuckled softly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Need help with all that?” he asked, his voice airy, teasing in a way that felt natural between them.

But YN didn’t respond right away. She kept her eyes down, focused on her things, but her movements were stiffer now, less fluid. There was something different in the way she stood there, something quiet but undeniably present—an undercurrent of tension Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt the air shift, that familiar warmth between them suddenly giving way to something more solemn, more guarded.

“YN?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, his smile fading as he stepped toward her. “Everything alright?”

She looked up then, her eyes catching his for the briefest moment before she quickly glanced away again, like she couldn’t hold the gaze for too long. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her jaw, something held back, something she wasn’t sure how to say. She let out a soft sigh, the weight of whatever was on her mind finally beginning to show.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She started, her voice low and measured, like she was carefully choosing each word. “August thirty-first.” She bit the inside of her lip momentarily. “It’ll be my last day here. My internship—it’s ending.”

The words landed between them like a quiet echo, reverberating in the space left behind by the day’s fading energy. Harry felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavier than he had expected. He knew the internship wouldn’t last forever—of course, he’d known that—but hearing it out loud, hearing it from her, made it feel real in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of the sudden tightness in his throat. It felt like the air had been knocked out of him, but he didn’t quite understand why. She was still there, right in front of him, but the idea of her leaving, of this chapter ending, hit him harder than he thought it would.

“Your last day.” He repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, his brows knitting together slightly.

YN nodded, but she didn’t look at him. She busied herself with the papers in her hands, though it was clear she wasn’t really doing anything—just moving things around to avoid the heaviness of the conversation. The atmosphere had changed, charged with an unsaid emotion. It reminded Harry of the way people talk about those long, hot August nights, the kind where the sky is still bright at 9pm, but you can feel autumn creeping in around the edges, making the warmth feel both infinite and fleeting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned against the control board. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Part of him wondered if it was because of the sex. A part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to find some reason to keep her there, keep things as they were. But he knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way the world worked, no matter how much you wanted to freeze a moment in time.

“How come?” He finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that mirrored the dimming light of the room.

YN shrugged slightly, her shoulders barely moving. “I’ve known for a bit. It’s temporary, only a summer internship.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though the weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It was hard for him, realizing that after all the late nights, the music, the moments shared, things would change. And YN—who had always kept that quiet distance, who never let anyone too close—wasn’t just leaving the studio. She was leaving him, even if she didn’t mean it that way.

The room felt smaller now, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. Harry looked down at his hands, tracing the worn edges of the soundboard with his thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t feel like an end.

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted solemnly, the words simple, but honest. They hung in the air like a truth too big for him to admit, they hung in the air like three words she wouldn’t have believed if he said it.

YN smiled then, a small, bittersweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She still looked guarded, her walls firmly in place, but there was something soft in the way she glanced up at him, like maybe she felt it too—the finality of the moment they were both trying to avoid.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And for a brief, fragile second, it was just them again, standing in the soft glow of the studio lights, the world outside forgotten. The weight of time, of change, of things left unsaid—all of it hung between them, heavy but delicate, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, to ask her something, anything to keep her there a little longer. But before he could find the words, the moment slipped away, the weight of reality settling back in as YN turned away, gathering the last of her things.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as she reached for the door, casting a long shadow across the studio floor. Harry watched as she stepped toward it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that everything was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.

YN hesitated in the hallway, every nerve in her body begging her to leave. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, tongue in cheek as she turned back around, opening the door back up with trembling fingers. She stood in the doorway, cracked enough for her frame to linger. A stripe of the nauseating white light of the hallway waned over him and he remained in the same place she had left him moments ago. “Harry.” She muttered, her voice low, almost weary. There was something in the way she said his name, something different—like maybe she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.

He perked up, his tummy doing flips. The pearly glow behind her made her seem ethereal—angelic. “Yeah?” His tone gentle but searching, like he was trying to pull something unspoken out of the quiet between them.

She looked at him then, fully, her eyes catching the last remnants of the dim light in the studio. For a moment, the guardedness slipped, just a fraction, and Harry could see something underneath—something vulnerable, something that felt a little like goodbye.

“I’m really glad I got to work with you.” YN’s voice was delicate, her words carrying a weight that made it threaten to crack. “This–this has been more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

She was referring to more than just the music and the internship.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know what to say to that—didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t just some random, throwaway intern to him, that these past few months had meant more than just music and late-night studio sessions. She had become a part of his world in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now that she was leaving, it felt like something vital was being pulled away, leaving him standing on unsteady ground.

“Me too.” He confessed, though he could’ve said more. Harry’s voice was quieter than he intended, his hand running over his face from a feeling he couldn’t admit.

The words hung in the air, soft but honest. YN had seen parts of him that few people did—had understood his music, his vulnerabilities, in a way that made him feel seen. And now, the thought of her not being there—of her walking out that door and leaving all of this behind—made him feel strangely untethered.

YN’s lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. She looked down at her shoes for a moment, the tip of her sneaker nudging a stray cable on the floor. “I didn’t mean to stay so late.” A weak attempt at lightening the moment. But her eyes betrayed her, the flicker of something deeper still lingering behind her words.

Harry took a step closer, closing the distance between them just slightly. “You know.”Harry mumbled, his tone lighter now, though the heaviness between them still lingered. “This feels a lot like a goodbye when y’have a few weeks still.”

YN glanced up at him, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess we do.” She let out a breathy chuckle, though her voice sounded distant, like she was already somewhere else in her mind.

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, like the room itself was holding its breath. Harry wanted to say more—wanted to ask her what came next for her, wanted to tell her that maybe things didn’t have to end here—tell her to stay. But he didn’t. The words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the emotions he wasn’t sure how to name.

After a moment, YN shifted her bag on her shoulder and let out a soft breath. “I should get going.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late.”

Harry nodded, but his chest felt heavy, like he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Yeah. Right. Let me know you got home okay.”

YN’s smile was small, almost bittersweet. She began to turn in the doorway, her movements slow, like the action of leaving pained her. He sent her a small wave as she gave him one last glance, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

The summer had begun to slip away quietly, the August sun sitting lower in the sky at earlier hours. The air was different that day—thicker, heavier with the weight of something ending. There was a finality to the way the light filtered through the studio’s window, soft and hazy, like the last days of vacation in an old photograph. Everything felt suspended, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Harry had known this day was coming. He’d tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the album, on the music, on the thousand little tasks that came with putting it all together. But today was different. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, the date had circled back around, staring him in the face.

August thirty-first.

YN’s last day.

He arrived at the studio earlier than usual, the streets outside still quiet, the early morning light pale and soft against the burning. The usual buzz of excitement—the thrill of working on his debut album—was muted, overshadowed by the knowledge that by the end of the day, YN would be gone.

As he set his guitar in the corner of the room, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was already there, sitting at her usual spot by the control board, her notebook open in front of her, a pen poised between her fingers. She was focused, scribbling something down, but her movements were slower, more deliberate today. Harry could tell. She knew it too.

The room was quieter than usual, the hum of the equipment the only sound as he walked over to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt like there were a hundred things left unsaid, hanging in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. But neither of them said anything. Not yet.

“Morning.” Harry said softly, settling down into his chair across from her. He didn’t dare to greet her with good morning, because it really wasn’t. Not today. He didn’t know when it would be again.

“Morning.” She murmured, voice almost resigned, not looking up from her notebook. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Harry felt his chest tighten.

They spent the morning working in the usual rhythm, going over the last details of the album. It should have been a day like any other, but there was a tension under the surface, something neither of them could quite shake. Every moment felt like it was leading up to something, like the end was creeping closer with each passing minute.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the studio had filled with the usual buzz of people—producers, assistants, technicians—all busy, all focused. But Harry’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at YN, watching the way she moved around the studio, the way she interacted with everyone, like it was just another day. But he could see it in the way she lingered on certain tasks, the way her eyes scanned the room as if she was memorizing it.

It was nearing the end of the day when the rest of the team began wrapping up, gathering their things, making plans for the next session. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting the room in that soft, golden light that made everything feel both beautiful and bittersweet. Harry watched as the others said their goodbyes to YN, one by one, thanking her for her work, telling her to stay in touch. She smiled, gracious as ever, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already one foot out the door.

And then, it was just the two of them.

The door clicked shut behind the last person, and suddenly the room felt much bigger, the space between them much quieter. Harry stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, watching the light fade as the day slipped into evening. YN was still by the control board, slowly packing up her things—her notebook, her pens, the little scraps of paper she’d scribbled ideas on over the past few months. Her movements were slow, deliberate, holding onto to the moment just a little longer.

Harry turned to face her, his pulse thrumming a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, not really. He had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid thinking about it, but now, standing there in the dimming light, he realized he still didn’t want her to leave.

“Are you all set?” He asked quietly, his voice sounding too casual for how much dread he felt inside.

YN glanced up, her eyes meeting his for the first time all day. There was a flicker of something there—something that matched the weight in his chest—but she quickly looked away, zipping up her bag with a small nod.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, standing up from her chair. “I think that’s everything.”

The silence that followed felt as if nails scratched an old chalkboard, stretching out between them like a line drawn in the sand. Harry took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the words he hadn’t been able to say all day. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the soundboard one last time, like she was saying goodbye to something bigger than just the room.

Harry wanted to ask her to stay, wanted to tell her that things didn’t have to end here—that maybe, just maybe, there was more for them beyond this room, beyond this summer. But he couldn’t. He knew her too well by now, knew that she had already made up her mind.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She frowned, eyes glasses over.

His stomach lurched. She had his number, of course, but Harry didn’t know if she would keep in contact. He didn’t know she would erase the summer from her mind to ease her heart. Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat causing him to wince. “Goodbye, YN.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was bathed in the last traces of sunshine, everything feeling suspended in time. And then, slowly, YN stepped toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. She paused, glancing back at him one last time, her expression unreadable.

And he caught himself. The all too familiar lump in his throat at a dull ache, the tip of his nose tickling as he felt tears well up. His feet moved faster than he could think, just a blink of time, and his hand was wrapped around her forearm, pulling YN away from the door. “That’s it?” He asked, his cheeks flushing red and his voice cracked. “That’s all?”

She frowned, her nostrils flaring as she willed away her tears. She adjusted the tote on her shoulder, averting her gaze from Harry to the wall behind him.

“Stay.” He pleaded, she only shook her head.

Stray tears fell from his eyes, heartbroken. “I can have them extend your internship, or something—please.”

Her eyes met his again, stomach twisting at his tears. “Harry that’s a hand out.” She muttered, sighing with a sadness she tried to push away. “I have to move forward.”

He sniffled, lighting placing his hand on her cheek as he brought her into a kiss. His tears made his lips wet, nose too stuffy to breathe through it—but he didn’t care. He figured this was goodbye, for a while.

Her lips were stilled against his until she melted into it, but it was fleeting. She placed her hand upon the one he had on her cheek, removing it as she pulled her face away. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a few soft kisses to his knuckles.

He only stood there, lips quivering with tears that were unable to stop. As she began to loosen the grip on his hand, putting his arm back to his side, an audible cry left his mouth. It wasn’t loud, barely above a whisper, but it was there. “Y’pinky promised me.” He shook his head, “That we would stay friends.” He took a deep breath, wiping away some of his tears. “But I know you’re gonna disappear on me.”

This time she let her tears fall, taking a step away—the guilt was allconsiming. “Take care of yourself, H.”

And just like that, she was gone as quick as she came.

But that was two months ago, and Harry was right—she barely kept in contact with him. He tried not to take it personally for a while, seeing as she didn’t update her socials as much either. She disappeared just like a snuffed out flickered flame of a candle.

She would respond occasionally, curious to know if he was okay, how the album was going. It was always fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

But he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t fine. He missed her, Harry felt that she broke their promise. And he wanted to be angry, to block her from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He was planning to fly to LA to finish the rest of the album in late September, but couldn’t do it. He remained in New York, not ready to let go of the many things created in that studio.

It was two in the morning as he stared at the bright glare of his phone, the recently sent attachment of the final cut of Carolina staying the dismal state of delivered.

He knew she had her read receipts on, which is why he didn’t swipe away from their messages—heart thudding against his chest as he waited to see if status would ever change to read.

Of course, undeniably so, the song was about another girl. But now it felt like a contradictory, because the only thing he thought about when listening to it was YN.

He knew now that he loved her, that he was in love with her the minute she sent her nod of approval for the From the Dining Table recording.

He was a walking joke to the saying of, she fell first, he fell harder—because he fell first, and then fell even harder.

Harry groaned, shutting his phone off and letting it slip into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed. The heel of his palm sat against his eyes, the pressure allowing for the kaleidoscope of colors and patterns to play on the inside of his eyelids.

He wondered if slamming his head against the wall would feel better than the ache of heartbreak.

However, he didn’t want to test that theory out. He’ll let it remain as a hypothesis for now.

His hands brushed down to his sides, his vision fading back to normal as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see if he could go to sleep, maybe even watch a movie—but his phone vibrated against his thigh and he swore the world stopped spinning on its axis for a beat.

He hesitated to look, if it was another weather notification he would probably lose his mind.

But he sat up anyway, grimacing as he clicked the power button, dreading the possible sight of the familiar blue icon.

Yn: everything i imagined it to be and more

Yn: forever proud of you harry styles

His shoulders faltered, a frown settling upon his lips.

h: I miss you.

YN stared at the message, lips parted. She still sat on the bathroom counter where she had been for the last ten minutes, smooshed close to the mirror in attempt to shape her eyebrows.

But as soon as she saw the song attachment pop up three minutes ago, the tweezers remained in its clattered state in the sink.

When the song emitted from her phone she couldn’t help but smile, she swear she could’ve floated. And then she cried.

h: I have 2 more songs to finalize before we send it through to be released next year.

h: Miss picking your brain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a pause in her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to respond right away, to fill the silence with words, to close the gap between them that had grown wider with every passing day since she left. But the other part of her—the part that had been protecting her heart all these months—wanted to stay distant, to keep things as they were, safely tucked away in the past.

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The one who had walked out of the studio with a heavy heart and the quiet resolve to move forward, to start anew. But that resolve was wavering now, and Harry’s words were making it impossible to ignore the ache she’d been trying to avoid.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

h: Still time to come back, you know. We could finish the album together.

Her heart clenched at the invitation. She could picture him, sitting in the dim light of his apartment, maybe lying in bed, the soft glow of his phone the only thing lighting up his face. She imagined the look in his eyes as he typed the words, that same softness she had seen in him so many times before—when they worked late into the night, when he caught her staring too long, when he let his guard down just enough for her to see the vulnerability underneath.

But she had walked away for a reason. She knew what it would do to her—how easy it would be to fall back into the rhythm of working with Harry, of getting lost in his music, in him. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the intensity of what lingered between them, the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with every conversation, every glance, every laugh shared.

She didn’t know if she wanted to take the risk to be left again.

h: Please. Just think about it.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, mouth ran dry. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him hanging.

Yn: i’ll think about it

It was short, maybe too short, but it was all she could offer in that moment. She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send, her stomach twisting with the uncertainty of what came next.

On the other end, Harry stared at his phone, his heart sinking as he read her reply. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was something in between, something that left him in limbo, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure would ever come.

He sat there in the silence of his apartment, the city outside moving on as it always did. He wanted to see her again, wanted to finish what they’d started, not just with the music, but with whatever had been building between them all those months. But he knew he couldn’t push her. YN was careful, guarded, and he had learned that the hard way. She had her reasons for keeping her distance, reasons she had never fully shared with him.

But still, he hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. That maybe, for once, she’d take a chance.

And so he waited, the phone resting in his lap, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the room around him.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next as Harry focused on finishing the album. He threw himself into the work, pouring all of his energy into the final tracks, refining the sound, changing some lyrics, adding new elements.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The songs were good—great, even—but without YN’s input, without her presence in the studio, it all felt a little hollow. He missed her—missed her laugh, missed the way she’d furrow her brow when she was deep in thought, missed the way she made him feel like he didn’t have to be Harry Styles all the time. With her, he was just Harry. And that was enough.

He loved her.

He hadn’t heard from her since that night. No messages, no calls. It was like she had disappeared all over again, slipping out of his life as quietly as she had entered it.

It was November sixteenth when his phone buzzed again, a message lighting up the screen. The sky was dull, a harsh breeze whipping around the branches of trees—gearing up for a downpour. His heart raced as he saw her name, his fingers fumbling to unlock the phone.

Yn: you’re in ny still?

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again, not after weeks of silence.

h: Still here. Why?

There was a long pause before her next message came through.

Yn: i’ve been thinking about you

It was as if the system his body needed to stay alive had paused, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn’t believe it—after all this time, she was finally considering it.

h: If you ever feel ready, I’m right where you left me.

Another pause.

Yn: it was ever just about the album h

Her message hit him like a punch to the chest, the weight of it settling in slowly. He had known—of course, he had known—but seeing it there, written out in front of him, made it all the more real.

Harry stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to find the right words. But what could he say? He felt the same way, had felt it for months, but he hadn’t known how to tell her.

He attempted to, the day she left, cried even. But she walked away before he had the chance to continue.

h: I know.

It was simple, but it was true. He did know. He had known all along.

Yn: are you still recording at the same studio?

Harry’s heart leapt at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.

h: Yeah, actually here right now. Brainstorming by myself for a bit.

Yn: buzz me in. i’m outside

Harry blinked, rereading the message a few times, the tips of his fingers all pins and needles

Outside.

She was there—outside, in the cold, waiting. Without thinking, he shot out of his chair, the legs scraping the studio floor with a harsh screech. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he fumbled to send her a quick reply. His movements were so frantic he had forgotten to press send.

He grabbed his jacket, threw it over his shoulders, and bolted for the door, his mind racing. She was here.

He wondered if he should slow down, would it be weird to greet her breathless at the door?

He rolled his eyes at himself. stop overthinking.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as he made his way down the corridor, his steps fast. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what she would say, but none of that mattered. All he knew was that she was here, and that was enough for him right now.

When he finally reached the front entrance, he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the buzzer. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions bubbling inside him. There was a weight to this moment—something bigger than just a simple reunion. He could feel it, like the air had thickened with all the unsaid words between them.

He pressed the button.

A soft buzz echoed through the small space, followed by the familiar click of the door unlocking. Harry pulled it open, stepping out into the crisp November air. The wind whipped around him, biting at his skin, but it didn’t matter because there she was.

YN stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her hair tousled by the wind. Her face was partially shadowed in the dingy light from the streetlamps, but he could still see her eyes—those same eyes that had watched him in the studio all those months ago, the ones that saw more than most people ever did.

The eyes of a girl he fell so pathetically in love with.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cold, neither of them moving. It was like time had paused again, just as it had so many times before when they were alone in the studio, surrounded by music but drowning in something deeper. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, unsure how to break the silence.

Finally, YN spoke, her voice quiet but steady, cheeks flushed from both her deepening blush and the cold. “Hi, Harry.”

The sound of her voice hit him like a wave, familiar and comforting, and all the tension he’d been holding onto seemed to unravel at once. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smiled, though his heart was still racing. “Hi.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt like everything. For weeks, Harry had been caught in this strange limbo, not knowing if he’d see her again, not knowing if the distance between them was permanent. But here she was, standing right in front of him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally shifting.

“It’s cold.” His voice is light, jutting his chin ever so slightly to the outside that existed around them. “Come in, please.”He felt unsure of how much to say, how much to push.

YN hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the door behind him. She shifted on her feet, the wind catching the ends of her coat and lifting it slightly. For a second, Harry thought she might say no, that maybe she was having second thoughts. But then, she gave him a small nod, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Harry held the door open as she walked past him, the familiar warmth of the studio wrapping around them both as they stepped inside. It was quiet—just the two of them now, the usual noise of the team gone for the night. He led her down the hallway toward the control room, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts spinning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to.

When they reached the room, Harry gestured toward the seat she’d always occupied—the one by the soundboard where she’d spent so many hours offering ideas, tweaking lyrics, helping him make a few songs what they were. YN paused for a second before sitting down, her hands resting in her lap as she glanced around the room.

“It feels the same.” Her laugh was breathy, a sadness to it. Her eyes lingered on the equipment, the scattered notes, the half-empty coffee cups that still littered the space. “Like nothing’s changed.”

Harry sat down across from her, his fingers brushing absently against the neck of the guitar that leaned against the chair. “Not much has.” He admitted, his voice quiet. “Except for you not being here.”

She looked at him then, searching his face, and Harry felt that familiar pull—the one that had always drawn him to her, even when she’d kept herself at arm’s length. There was something in her gaze, something heavy with unsaid words, and he wondered if she could feel it too.

A beat had passed. “I missed this, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, H.

His cheeks felt hot, the words landing between them like a confession. He swallowed, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he wanted to say in return.

“I missed you too.”Harry murmured, the truth of it echoing in every syllable. And for the first time in months, the silence between them didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall back into place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.

She shifted on her feet, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere, dripping with the guilt she’s battled for months. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I needed to take some time, figure things out.”

He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He would’ve tried to look better if he knew he’d be seeing her today. “It hurt.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes glossed over as she nodded. She had to look away, not able to face him. She knew she had done to him the same thing she was so afraid of—she just left. It gutted her for a while, wanting to reach out and apologize. She had this anxious feeling he wouldn’t forgive her. Rightfully so.

But it’s Harry.

He ran his hand down his face, a swirl of emotions becoming a cyclone within him. He frowned, seeing how spaced she was—as if she wasn’t here. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

His tone was a bit more straightforward than he originally intended, but it was the truth. She showed up asking to be buzzed in, he felt as if he shouldn’t be the one digging.

She shook her head, trying to blink away some of her tears. “Guilt, sorrow, you.”

He nodded, looking at her expectantly to finish. He wished she could say her feelings as fast as she could walk away from them, but she was trying at least, and it felt like a start.

She inhaled shakily, running her fingers through her hair as her lip continued to tremble. “Guilt for leaving you the same what I feared being left.” Her voice had a tremor, her breaths a bit quicker. “Guilt for not saying sorry sooner. The pain of missing you—.” She whimpered, the same as Harry did the day she left.

“The guilt and sorrow will fade.” Harry murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. “Y’just to work through it, don’t ignore it.”

YN wiped her cheeks, fingers shaking as she tried to regulate her breathing.. “And you?” Her voice was small, fragile, afraid of the answer.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Have I lost you?”

He frowned, the words caught in his throat. The question felt like it knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between them, unbearable. He let his shoulders falter, “I love you, YN.”

The words hung between them, raw and unfiltered. It was stripped of all pretense, just the truth he carried with him for months. He watched her for any sort of reaction, and she just kind of stood there. He wondered for a moment if he even said anything, if it was just loud in his head but he actually had just left her hanging. “I love you.” He repeated, just in case.

"I–” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

She swallowed hard, tears still clinging to her lashes as she searched his face. The pain, the guilt, the regret—it was all still there, but beneath it, there was something else, something softer. Something she had kept hidden for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it out. “You do?”

He nodded, remaining vulnerable. He had no clue if she would reciprocate, or if she’d just walk away if met with the familiar fear. “Think I always have.”

For the first time, it didn't feel like there was a barrier. It felt like something was breaking, something that had been keeping them apart for far too long.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, tentative at first, but then firmer as she closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as the tears flowed freely now, the weight of months of separation, guilt, and pain finally slipping away.

Harry held her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. This was what he had been missing—this. Not just the music, not just the friendship. It was her. All of her.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words soft and full of promise. "I’m here."

It was them, just them—like she’d never left.

[intheemptymirror]

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,��� he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

[chrissdollie]

rapper!chris x singer!reader hcs

a/n: lowkey a collab with @bambi-slxt bc of all the headcanons she sent me LMAOO thank u sweets!! <3

SFW

chri$ is definitely one of the more "soft" rappers. everyone knows that hes a lovesick puppy for you. he doesnt have ONE line including the words "my bitch". instead he replaces them with "my girl" OR "my wife" :((

i think he would 100% make an album fully dedicated to you. kinda like tyler the creator's "call me if you get lost" in a way. for example, in the song "HEAVEN TO ME", tyler explains his dreams. chris would rap about all of the things he wants to do with you and how he sees you in his life forever

he has many features on peace on the beach with my peach since its partially about your guys' sweet relationship! theres moments in the record where there are beautiful beats paired with your heavenly vocals and cute voice cracks while chri$ is dropping barssss (ill make a post ab lyrics i think he'd add)

sososososo supportive of your creative journey. he was with you as you wrote and planned out your extremely personal debut. he even helped out at the studio :c

but then you started adventuring some time after your 2nd-3rd album. you started experimenting with different genres/styles. you created storylines and visuals along with your music.

out of the two of you, chri$ is definitely more famous. anyhow, he got invited to the met gala and had u has his plus one obviously, where you both looked drop dead gorgeous!! i literally cannot see him wearing a basic ass suit and tie to the met. he has to be on your level and match your uniqueness which make you two stand out so much!

when you both got up the steps, he was being interviewed by emma chamberlin, who was also a fan of his. she asked about the creative process of his newly released album and he totallyy put you in the spotlight, saying "yn helped me a lott honestly. she's... literally a genius." he grins, turning to you while keeping his hand on your waist.

you guys like toying with the paparazzi when they're bothering you. you goofballs make silly faces right in the cameras so they back off

one time when you were being interviewed, your sweet boy wrapped his arms around your waist as he listened to you talk. you were a little nervous and stuttered a bit, but chris consoled you by rubbing small circles into your waist and whispering a gentle "it's okay baby" to your ear.

you fangirl on stage when you catch your boyfriend's eyes in the front row. sometimes you entirely stop what you're singing just to giggle and squeal "hiiii honey!!" while twirling your hair like a little girl. the audience cheers with screams when they realize chris is with them in the crowd-- but feels like its only you two in the stadium when he blows you a kiss (some corny shit he never thought he'd do) and mouth the words "i love you".

for the holidays, u two visit homeless shelters and childrens hospitals and perform for everybody <3

imagine just hanging out at the studio with him and your guys' friends. he's manspreading on a leather couch while massaging your feet resting in his lap as you write lyrics in your lap, your friends helping you out as you do.

you knew that somewhere down the line there was going to be some kind of beef. a popular rapper decided to call out chris for something he did years ago as a literal child. you both ignore it until he sends out a tweet about you. something around, "nd his bitch bad asf id hit fs but she a fuckin weirdass childish mf"

you ignore the fact he called u a "weirdass childish mf", you cant care less, many people dont vibe with ur ideas and thats okay!

u do however care about how his girlfriend would react to seeing him wanting to fuck you. and you'd met her before too, she was a little snobbish, but respectful nonetheless. you joked to your boyfriend about dropping your own diss track on him, but he actually seem intrigued. you shut it down almost immediately though, you didn't wanna make something small such a big deal

but at the next big event you guys went to, you found the rapper's girlfriend and showed her his tweet. she thanked you with a furious scowl on her face before she ran off and slapped the shit out of him in front of everybody

chris gets a custom made $5k chain that has ur name and little details that remind him of u around it :((

NSFW

speaking of that chain, he wears it whenever he pounds into you so you'll be reminded of how he's yours.

chris loves ur vocals so much on stage! he finds them beautiful, but he loves them even more in bed.

"cmon mama lemme hear that pretty voice"

in fact, you two created a song just to have playing in the background while you two get intimate

chris audio recorded him eating u out once and you saying, "oh, fuck chris, it's so good!" and he decided to use that as an adlib in his favorite songs OR disses he wrote about someone being a jerk to u

watching chris perform did things to you. seeing him sweat, brushing his gorgeous hair out of his face, putting in so much energy into his performance... it's intoxicating! sometimes you wish he'd just drop the mic, pull you onstage, and make love to you infront of the world.

he talks about marrying you while he's balls deep inside of your wet cunt :( saying how he wants to drop a humongous bag on your ring, give you the wedding of your dreams, and how he desperately wants to hear "missus sturniolo" from others' mouths

chris will totally pop up behind stage after a show and guide you to your dressing room not so subtly. you apologize to your manager before rushing to your private room like a giddy teenager. "wanna see her sweetheart, she wet for me righ' now? oh, there she is.." he coos as he bends down to his knees right in front of your pussy when you pull down your pretty pink stage costume.

@leah-loves-lilies @1everythingmustgo @star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee@freshsturns@emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @strnlxlqve @starlace111 @mattsfavbigtitties @stvrlighht

[winterzsurprise]

Take a seat || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader

Summary: Never in your wildest dream did you imagine having your husband ask you to sit on his face.

Tags: Face sitting, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, smut, NOT BETA READ.

Words: 1.2k

saw someone plead for this one lmao. They asked so nicely so I delivered, idk if this is how it usually goes tbh. This shit's so rushed but I guess I have to squeeze everything out before school starts again tomorrow aaaaaaaaaa

other than that, enjoy! Thank you all for your love on my fics aaaaaaaaaa im running out of header pics da;flkhwah

mi vida - my life || dios mio - my god || mi bella esposa - my beautiful wife || cariño - honey

“You want me to do what now?”

Miguel sighed exasperatedly as he facepalmed, embarrassed. “Don’t make me repeat mys—”

“No no no, I heard you loud and clear.” Which doesn’t mean you understand why all of a sudden. “But why?”

“Should I have any reason why I want you to sit on my face?”

In a gazillion universe, you’d never thought you’d hear those words come out of his lips. Sitting on his lap, you stared at the man incredulously to which he scowled at.

Usually, oral between you both are usually done with you underneath him as he pinned your thighs open and wide for him since he likes the control. To hear him ask you to sit on his face mid-foreplay shocked you.

You pinched your thigh, unconvinced by his sudden change of mind and Miguel sighed once more.

“Is it that hard to believe? Dios mio, if you don’t want to do it, just say it—”

“No no no, lay back down, I’m just processing.”

Excitement thrummed madly in your veins as you pushed the man back into the mattress. Excitement got you removing your underwear in a second before sitting back on his chest. It’s not fast enough apparently, when his strong arms hook under your legs and pull you directly on top of his lips.

Your breath got stuck into your throat. The mere feeling of his hot breath on your skin caused ripples of heat from your abdomen to your fingertips. You’ve always had orals before, it was something he’d never forget, yet there was something about sitting on top of his face that got you aroused more than ever.

“Go any slower and I would’ve thought you’d want to back out.”

“Not my fault. You’re so impatient.”

“A pretty girl sat on top of me, naked and wet, begging to be devoured. Do you think I’d ignore you, mi bella esposa?”

His dark voice, along with his fogged red eyes staring at you through his eyelash sent shivers down your spine, cheeks flushing beet red. You almost slapped the growing smirk off of his face at your flustered state.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you smell absolutely delicious.”

His arms locked around your thighs and you immediately knew you were done.

His tongue felt like silk gliding through your folds before rolling your clit in figures of eight. You sighed, throwing your head back as pleasure slithered down your spine at his every exhale fanning your skin. 

There was something about the stings his stubbles brings as it scratches your skin along with the stimulation of his tongue that drive you crazy. 

You swear you’re not a masochist by any means, yet when it comes to Miguel, every joy, sadness, pain and pleasure felt like a reward from the high heavens that you couldn’t help but accept with gratitude.

Your hand found stability in his dark locks, pulling and tugging his head closer to your heat, causing him to groan, the vibration seeping into your bones.

His hands roamed your body as if desperate to find a treasure in the unknown, nails dragging the skin from your back and down to the globes of your ass. The sting they left in their wake stirs your nerves awake, the pain mixing in with pleasure. You sighed, falling to lean on the piles of pillows as you dragged your clit with the point of his tongue.

Miguel wandered lower, tongue rolling around the rim of your entrance, sending electric jolts down your legs. You shivered as the sensation of his fangs rubbing against your folds, always so close yet so far away.

You gasped when the appendage plunged into your entrance, his large nose pushing into your clit as he pulled you closer to his face.

“Fuck…!”

“You taste divine.” He groaned. “Give me more.”

Bringing his hand down hard onto your ass, you whined. The stinging pain it left had your body singing for more and you knew Miguel was aware of the effect it has on you with how hard you clench on his silky appendage.

“Move.”

“Huh?”

Another sharp slap echoed in the living room, harder than the one earlier and you cried, hips stuttering forward on his flattened tongue.

“Ride me, cariño. Like you’ve always wanted.”

And you swear you’ve never heard anything more romantic than that.

With a smidge of hesitance, fearing you’d suffocate him, you rolled yourself on his tongue, eyes locked onto his darkened ones that dripped with desire. Still unsatisfied, his hand lands another hit on your skin and you move more desperately against him.

You cry as he starts to pick up the pace of his tongue, putting pressure onto your bead and shaking his head aggressively underneath you. He swats you once more when your hips stutter from the stimulation before clawing your flesh and grounding you further into his mouth.

“Harder.”

“I’m trying—Ah!”

Sneaking a hand below, he immediately inserts two digits inside of you. He spared no time hastening the speed of his thrusts while licking enthusiastically onto your clit making your eyes roll back.

Chasing the pleasure his fingers and mouth offered you, your hips rolled uncontrollably against his face. The obscene squelch echoing in the room would have embarrassed you, yet you couldn’t find it in you to flush.

The tight knot in your abdomen tightens as heat explodes from your chest and reaches down the tips of your limbs. You couldn’t do anything but cry as you tether closer to nirvana.

“I-I’m close.”

“Come for me, mi vida. Give it to me. I want it all.”

With his grounding arm reaching up to rake through your back along with his fingers and tongue, the knot unfurls and you come with a cry. 

Suddenly, he had both arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from fluttering away from his ministrations. You gasped and pushed at his head but he paid no heed to them, rolling and shaking his tongue onto your clit as if trying to coax another climax from you.

“Miguel…!”

His nails digging into your flesh was the only answer you received and maybe the tug on his lips at your trembling thighs as well. It didn’t take long before pain started to blur with pleasure and your hips rocked against his tongue despite the protest of your heat with one hand tugging on his hair and the other holding on for dear life onto the headboard.

You didn’t have the mind to worry about his nose being blocked by your mon pubis, focused solely on your orgasm. With how he ground your hips onto his lips, you knew he didn’t mind.

And with a weak shout, you unravel, flesh and bones, on top of him. There’s a sound of something breaking in the haze, but paid no heed to it as you fall bonelessly onto the mattress. Miguel pulls away, gasping for air just as you turn to face the ceiling.

Your arousal drenching his face evoked something feral within you, the simmering desire in your stomach stirring awake once more. His eyes turned to the headboard and chuckled, reaching over to run his fingers over the dent with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I guess a Spider-Man will always be a Spider-Man.”

“Oh shut up.” You groaned, chucking a pillow on his face.

[lokisivy]

Hi! Im a big fan of your work and I saw you were taking requests :) I had a smut fic idea in mind with young (before paralysis) Professor Charles Xavier x fem!student reader. Maybe you and Charles have had some flirty/sexual tension for the longest time until one night when everyone is in bed in their dorms, he reads your mind and notices that you are still awake, touching yourself and having just obscene thoughts of him till he comes into your room and takes matters into his own hands and the rest just be pure smut lmao 👀👀👀 keep up the good work!!

First of all, thank you soooo much for u liking my work. Second of all, it took me like 3 times to process what you requested. I'm ovulating rn, so I'm just so stunned.

Warnings: age gap, mind reading, slight breeding kink, reader is above 18, cursing. use of nicknames, p in v, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight size kink. let me know if i missed anything

READERS POV

I'm a good student, I focus in class, get good grades, and am always polite to my professors. but there is this one class where I can't seem to focus no matter how hard I try.

Professor Xavier's class like right now I'm sitting in today's class what is the topic? DNA mutation blah blah blah.

he was looking and me oh his eyes were so blue like the ocean I could drown in them- Fuck he can read my mind.

GENATICS! FLOWERS! this isn't working he is smirking he knows what I'm thinking of. I bite my lips hard, trying to think of something else. His arms in that dress shirt sleeves rolled up his hands on my throat- FUCK think of something dark.

"Y/N read page 269 about Genetic mutations" the professor announced "Ahh-" fuck I didn't even have my book open shit. I used my telekinesis to open the page but it didn't I was fumbling for the page until Professor Xavier came behind me and opened the page for me.

"next time focus in class and refrain from having dirty thoughts about me," he whispers in my ears his sharp voice making me sudden goose bumps arise.

"Sorry professor. I promise that it won't happen again" I flirt looking up through my lashes and giving an innocent look.

he leans down to give me back my book "Good Girl."

With my powers, it was gonna be impossible for me to keep him out of my thoughts I was basically a magnet for him my mind like an open book for him. It doesn't matter because no matter what he was my teacher and nothing could happen between us even though I'd sell my soul to the devil for us to touch. and our age gap people would think he was a predator but at this point, I think I am the predator with the unholy thoughts I'm getting.

1:39 Am my clock read I couldn't sleep my interaction with Professor Xavier kept replaying 'having dirty thoughts about me in class'

'good girl' my hands snuck past my nightgown rubbing circles on my clit. imagining Charles bending me down the desk fucking me into oblivion 'Such a naughty girl only focusing on my cock and not the class' I imagined his rough thick accent. I pushed one finger inside me feeling the warmth it was relieving the pressure but not enough I needed more I needed him in every way possible.

3rd pov

You and Charles had always flirted with each other during office hours it was obvious in the being you were attracted to him he was very good-looking and muscular made women weak in the knee and because he could read any person's mind it made it easier for him to know when to flirt back he knew when you were sad or feeling under the weather but when the rumours started to spread around the acted tough with you in class you knew it was a show and it kept all gossip down it not like you were very young you came here after finishing high school to learn about your abilities and how to control them but you were still a student but something Charles never did was crossing the line until today he was awake trying to study a new students abilities. He wondered if you were awake and he was met but dirty thoughts that made his cock burst.

a growl came out of his throat "fuck me!" he adjusted his pants the thought of you touching yourself while thinking of him was gonna make him burst this second he started to palm his cock but could take anymore when your moans grew louder coming close to your orgasm.

Fuck it he thought and walked to your dorm room absolutely angry about the way you made him feel hands running through his hair he was gonna punish you for every time you made him hard, for every time your mischievous ass made him think about you.

He reached your room door knocking lightly not waking anyone and talked to you through your thoughts 'Open this door now!' He interrupted your fantasies making you rise in panic

Readers POV

Fuck Fuck FUCK! How did he read my mind it was 1 am everyone is asleep. I panic opening the door panting from how fast I got up.

"hey proff how you doing, bro?" I opened the door trying to act casual.

"Are you messing with me right now." It was more rhetorical than a question. He slammed the door, pining me against it.

"I-"

"What you thought you could be whore and touch yourself thinking about me and get away with it." He was frustrated both sexually and mentally "and why were you listening to my thoughts anyway I should be able to think what I want without having to worry about you getting into my head." I rolled my eyes. A part of me liked the thrill, but sometimes it was nice to have my thoughts to myself.

"You can block me out but you don't."

"It's exuasting. what you want me to masterbate and think about you and block you out." I sigh

"You don't know how hard it is for me to contain myself from letting all these thoughts of yours come true right now." He leans closer, his body towering in front of me.

Closer.

And Closer.

our lips so close but yet so far.

Till there was nothing but a fine line between our lips.

"Then make them come true." I barely got the words out.

"This is wrong." He voice became deeper

"I saved your life in Cuba professor." I whispered

"Fuck it." He said kissing me knocking the air out of my lungs, his hand come to cup my face our his toung fighting with mine. moving us towards the bed his hands roaming through my my silk PJs unbouting the buttons.

"Charles!" i moaned when his lips contact with my neck marking me plaming and squeezing my breasts, "please" I didn't know what I was pleading for but I needed the relief with the ache that was growing I was so wet aching for him to touch me.

" What darling, what do you want me to do?" he smirked, he knew what I wanted he could read my mind "I- I want you to touch me." I barely whispered my voice practricly unaudioble,"Louder darling?" he disaproved "I want you to fuck me charles like the way I was thinking about when I was touching me self on here." I run my hands through the sheets of the bed.

"Fuck my little whore wants me to fuck her," he growls, he grabs my neck and slams me down the bed causing a moan to leave me. His knee separated my legs from closing. he slid off the top I had on letting my breasts hit the cold air causing my nipples to harden. his thumb ran on my nipples rubbing and pinching. "Charles Please" I beg.

"Have I taught you nothing?" he kissed my chest slowly down to my breasts "Patience is how you achieve everything perfectly. "

"Charles Xavier if you don't fuck me right now I'll throw you against the wall." pull him by his shirt collar kissing him

"I may teach you science, but I think I need to teach you good manners." I rolled my eyes, ripping off his shirt. I stopped to take a moment to take in the sight of his toned muscles, running my fingers through his abs in awe. something inside him snapped at the way I looked at him. he immediately took down my shorts and unbuckled his pants.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked me,"Yes ever since Cuba Charles," I assured me, but something told me he was reading my mind to check if I had any doubts. "Good. Because the moment I start, I won't stop"

"Start first then we can speak about stopping because all I'm hearing is yap yap no acti--" I was interrupted by his fingers entering me all three of them. making me moan very loudly.

"Shh baby your classmates will hear you." he groans at the sight. "S-sorry."

his hands worked magic, and the rhythm was steady, hitting all the good points, building up the fire in my stomach fire that might explode any moment "Charles I'm so close." I whimpered at the loss of contact "Too bad your only gonna cum on my cock tonight" I looked down at his length it was big and thick and precum leaked out his hardness he positioned my left leg on his shoulder positioning himself and entering me at a slow excruciating pace stretching me into half.

"Fuck your so big." now I understood why he was taking it too slow his cock was gigantic that's why he walked around so confidently he is packing.

"Fuck you're tight." he groans the burn started to fade into pleasure "Charles please" probably begged for the millionth time tonight he was killing me. his pace started to grow faster "You are taking me so well darling." he praised me sending it to my pussy clenching on him tighter."Fuck Y/N!" he growls

"Charles faster" he complied going at an unforgivable pace the angle he fucked me in was make me feel all of his length he keeps hitting that spot that was about to explode any second now. my moaning became louder and harder to control probably making someone from outside hear us "Be quiet sunshine" he told me in between his rough thrusts he pinched my nipples lightly causing an overly loud moaning to come out he silenced me with a kiss and replaced his lips with his hand he gave me a warning look then removed his hands. my fingers running through his hair tugging on it tiny moans slipping out of him sending me over the edge with bliss and euphoria washing over me seeing starts in the back of my eyes. his cock twitching "Yes give me all your cum Daddy." I moaned my back arching scratches down his back. his hot warm cum filling my walls making me moan with pleasure it felt right. Charles put my legs down making me turn on my side, as I was about to sleep he grabbed my jaw. "Daddy is not done with you yet sunshine" he teases me.

"let's get you cleaned up sweetheart." he carried me to the bathroom

[buckyownsmylife]

out of the woods (chris evans x famous!reader smut)

the one where Chris watches an interview of you on the Ellen show

Warnings: mention of small stature in comparison to Chris, smut thoughts, Ellen Degeneres trash talking/thinking, cursing, mention of prescription medicine, talk of age gap (reader is younger than Chris), jacking off, daddy kink

WC: 3k

A/N: this doesn't really have an ending, so if you all like it, I might make a series out of it - the idea is that you are also famous (for acting, singing, writing) and have been friends with Chris but there's always this underlying tension between the two of you. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: no, he's not married in this story nor do I intend to feature Alba in any part of it whatsoever.

Chris’ P.O.V.

I was scrolling through Twitter when I realized some fans were tagging me in a short video of Y/N on Ellen DeGeneres’ show. I knew she had gone there by herself, mostly to promote her new album, but also to give some publicity for our movie, so I was aware that she would probably talk about me at least a bit… Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link to check the video for myself.

She looked gorgeous as always, her hair down in that way I loved so much and her skin seemed to be as soft as ever under the mini dress she chose to wear, her legs stretching out and making her look taller than she actually was. I chuckled, remembering just how small she looked by my side.

I remembered one time when I lifted her up, bridal style, and spun her around the pub we had close to the set, after the Patriots had won a game. Despite not understanding the game, she tagged along and celebrated every time I got excited, like the cute person that she was. I got so transfixed by her giggles back then. They were the sweetest sound and the only thing I heard, despite the fact that we were in the middle of a very loud bunch of dudes. 

I found myself imagining again, as I had then, what it would be like to have her under me, trapped by my arms in bed, or better yet, against a wall, only my thighs securing her in place while I made her moan with my touch. How would she sound? Or, better yet, how would she feel?

Christ. 

Shaking my head, I tried to gather my thoughts so as to not let them stray too far in that direction, something I didn’t have much success in doing, despite the fact that I had been practicing that simple habit every single day since I met her. But it was proving to be a nightmare. She was just far too tempting.

Shaking my head once more, I focused on the video in front of me. My heartbeat had sped up as soon as it started, but I tried to tell myself it was because I was scared for her, since I knew how Ellen could get invasive sometimes.

“So, Y/N…” She started, eyeing my co-star. “You have just finished working on a movie with someone we’re very familiar with, isn’t it?”

Y/N giggled, nodding at the blonde woman. “I suppose so. We have just finished the promotion for it, maybe you guys have already seen it?” She asked the crowd, who went nuts at her. It was sweet to see this kind of feedback, I truly believed in our movie and the fact that I got to know her was just an added bonus.

“For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, it’s called ‘Be Here Now’ and it’s currently in a theater near you. Y/N stars alongside Chris Evans, who we love so dearly here, and they play brother and sister as they try to reconnect after their parents' passing.”

More applause at that. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her idea of love. Last time I was there, she made me pretty uncomfortable, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“So, how was the process for you? We know you’re familiar with the filming process, since you star in your own series ‘Evermore’, that sent you to stardom, along with your songs, but you had said before you’d never act outside of it, since your true passion relies on music. What changed your mind?” Ellen sat back as she said that, already comfortable with the fact that something good would come out of this interview, since Y/N had been pretty vocal about what made her decide to do the movie, even with me.

“Chris did, actually. Or, in fact, the fact that he was cast in it.” A chorus of “aws” echoed around the room and there was no way to know if they were real or prompted, but they were quickly interrupted by the host.

“So, you were a fan?” She instigated, as to what Y/N nodded again.

“Of course. Well, my mom more than me, but I was the one who introduced his work to her, so…” She poked her tongue out at the camera, to which my heart (and my cock) jumped in response. “Ever since I got into this, when I first had the idea for Evermore with James, I told him time and time again I would never act outside of this, because I had no intention whatsoever on becoming an actress. I have always been in this for the music. Well, the writing. I’m a writer, I like writing scripts and songs, I’ve fallen into this performer thing by accident. But I’ve always been adamant about the fact that if I ever had the opportunity to act alongside Chris, I’d take it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t think I’m good enough. It didn’t even matter if the script was terrible, which thankfully wasn’t the case, I just really admire him and his work and I would never live with myself if I turned this opportunity down.”

Even though I knew most of this, I couldn’t help but to gloat at the fact that this incredible woman actually admired me. She was so much better than me in so many things, even acting, and she still thought I was great enough to get her to participate in a movie. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a little crush, that’s right?” And there it was. The coup. Of course. That evil wench…

“That’s what you took out of everything I said? Jesus, Ellen, has anyone ever told you that you listen like a man?” Ouch. That one was perfect. Being the ambassador for females and lesbians everywhere, it couldn’t not hurt her, especially coming from someone as angelical, sweet and universally-loved as Y/N. I appreciated the quick second her smile faltered before it became plastered on her again.

“No, I haven’t heard that before… But tell me, have you met any of the other Marvel actors? I mean, granted, there are a lot of them now, but especially those who have worked closely with Chris?” Y/N shrugged at that.

“I have been friends with Elizabeth Olsen for a very long time, we’re very close, but other than that, no. I haven’t had the chance to properly meet, or rather, hang out with any of them.”

“Who’s first on your list?”

“Anthony Mackie,” Y/N promptly responded, getting a few laughs and claps from the audience.

“My, you had that answer ready” Ellen teased, to which Y/N simply shrugged again. 

“We talk through social media sometimes and I know for a fact he’s hilarious. I hope we get to meet sometime. I might just have to bug Chris about it.” She had already, in fact. I couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other and I was already planning my next party just to be able to make that happen.

“What about Sebastian?” Ellen asked, a glinter of something extremely suspicious in her eyes.

“Sebastian Stan? No, we haven’t met, but I’d love to get the chance to someday. He seems extremely sweet and I know he’s very talented and Chris loves him, so I think it’s a matter of time until it happens.”

“I heard somewhere you had a bit of a crush on him, right? Even if you don’t admit that you have one on Chris?” This fucking woman. I could fucking kill her right now. But, to my surprise, Y/N simply laughed.

“Truly, you have got to check your hearing sometime soon, because that is absolutely false.” 

“Really?” Ellen pushed, to which Y/N beamed even brighter at her.

“Positive.” A beat as the two women stared at each other down. “I think what you meant is that I have had a huge crush on his character, Bucky Barnes.” Y/N explained, laughing at the host. “I admit that only happened after I saw Sebastian’s portrayal of him, but my attraction to a fictional character can’t be really connected to him.”

Ellen nodded, obviously not paying attention to anything she was just saying. “Well, let’s figure out who do you actually feel attracted to, shall we? Let’s play fuck, marry or kill!”

The audience screamed and, to my surprise, Y/N didn’t even blink, a patient smile painting her lips as she calmly watched the interviewer. “So, Y/N, between Anthony, Sebastian and Chris, who would you rather fuck, marry or kill?”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling at the older woman. “I couldn’t possibly answer truthfully to this question, Ellen, mostly because I am not capable of feeling carnal attraction to people I have never met, but I can 100% assure you that I would marry Chris without blinking twice if there was a choice.” 

My heart skipped a beat at her words. The crowd went crazy, obviously satisfied with the answer.

“And you’re sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Ellen’s eyes glistened with mischief, as she stared at the younger woman.

“Ellen, I think the question here is… Are you sure *you don’t have a crush on him?” The laughs from the audience was the last thing to come from the video before it stopped, and I found myself echoing them in the silent living room. Oh my, how I missed this girl.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my jean-clad thigh, looking around the room. I had been staying in Boston with my family for the last few weeks, since the movie premiered and we had finished promotion, and I had found myself constantly calling her to share funny stories from my nephews or to hear about her day. I knew she wanted to meet my family, she had always said she admired the fact that we were so close, despite there being so many of us.

My mom obviously loved her, having been a fan of hers long before I even heard about her existence. So what if…? 

Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call in the name of the woman I had been thinking about. The phone rang three times before she picked up, stopping me from giving up on this crazy idea.

“Hey, Chris! How are you? I missed talking to you, it’s so weird seeing you everyday for four months and then suddenly not at all anymore.” I know I was literally forty, but I literally melted at this girl’s words.

“Did you now? Is that because you wish we were married, so we could see each other everyday?” Her breath hitched as she realized I had seen the video and I could just imagine the cute little embarrassed expression she was probably sporting right now. I tried to ignore the fact that my words and tone of speaking had suddenly become way too similar to when I was flirting with a girl.

“Fuck, you saw the interview.” I had never heard Y/N curse before, so the fact that I suddenly had no control over my mouth could be explained by the unavailability of blood in my head, since it had all gone south.

“Come stay with me for a while,” I spilled suddenly. Silence was the only answer I got from the other side of the call and my heart sped up in a way that only happened when I was truly anxious. I was already cursing myself out for scaring the poor girl when she finally answered.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper. It was obvious how vulnerable she was feeling, and a sense of overprotectiveness overcame me. “Please don’t joke about this, Evans. This better not be a prank. ‘Cause I really do miss you a lot.”

Fuck indeed. There was no way something good would come out of this idea, but there was no way I would go back either.

“Of course I’m being serious. Come to Boston. You can stay with me, but I think my mom is going to steal you before you even settle in.” A large breath came from the other side.

“Okay. Okay! I’m going to pack my bags. Yay! I’m so excited!” She was clearly jumping up and down with the perspective of what was to come, and I couldn’t help the smile that painted my lips not only at her cuteness, but also due to my own excitement at her arrival. 

“Great! I’ll be waiting.” My heartbeat still hadn’t gotten back to a normal speed. “Text me the details of your arrival, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” I knew what she meant. If someone caught sight of us together at the airport, or even the fact that she was here in Boston, all hell would break loose in the press.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.” I froze, only then realizing what I had just called her. A few seconds ticked by while I silently freaked out, wondering how I could brush this over, when she intervened.

“Thanks, Chris. That was pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I just might forgo my prescription medicine while I’m over there, because you’ve been able to completely relax me with just two sentences.” She giggled and if I was at first leaning towards thinking she was sarcastically teasing me, just by the nature of her words, the tone of her voice made it clear that she actually meant what she had just said.

Once again, I was at a loss for words, especially because I couldn’t help but to allow myself to imagine that this was her, flirting with me a little bit. The blood I so desperately needed in my brain had once again left to pump another organ full of life. I was saved from having to answer, though, as Y/N quickly wrapped up the conversation.

“I’ll text you the details of my flight in a little bit. See you soon, angel.” She hung up before I could process the nickname she had given me. 

“Fucking hell,” I whispered, finally relenting and getting up from the couch to take a shower to rub one off.

I had found myself in this situation more times than usual after meeting Y/N. Normally, I’d only do it out of boredom, preferring to fuck someone whenever I’d get sexually frustrated. But the last few times I had taken girls from parties into my bedroom, I could only see her. Y/N. And I hated how disgusting I felt after it was done, the fact that I didn’t care about the girl I just fucked and the fact that I imagined my younger friend.

So now I resorted to this kind of activity. As the warm water started to hit my body, I allowed my right hand to travel the extent of my body until I found my hardened member. “Fuck,” I found myself whispering into the bathroom as I tugged on my cock. Images that I had spent a lot of time concocting in my head flashed in front of me, all of them starred by Y/N. 

I imagined her nude body here with me, under the falling water. How her breasts would heave with every breath she took. Would she be as filled with desire for me as I was for her? I imagined the path the warm droplets of water would run across her skin and how I wished I could lick its remnants. 

Maybe she’d fall to her knees before me, looking up from under her eyelashes with that coy expression that drove me crazy. Her lips would softly kiss the tip of my cock and she’d still be watching me, analyzing my reactions. I would do my best to restrain myself, allowing her to get accustomed to my member, but my hands would eventually find their way to her wet strands, creating a makeshift ponytail that would facilitate my vision of her work while I still managed to control myself and not use it to guide her.

She’d kiss the skin all around my cock, quick little kisses just to tease me before going further down to suck on my balls. I’d throw my head back, begging her to do what I needed, and she’d finally succumb, wrapping her lips around my tip before slowly sucking further down my dick. She’d be relentless, eventually being able to swallow my whole member down her throat, and I would look down again to see her looking up at me with a proud gaze in her eyes.

“Such a good girl,” I would whisper, just before I finally snapped, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock until just the tip remained tightly squeezed by her lips, until I pushed her all the way against me again. “Take this fucking cock like the little perfect girl you are for daddy.”

And she’d take it like a pro, a satisfied smile on her lips as I fucked her mouth, eventually breaching into her throat, making her gasp for air, tears in her eyes as her hands flew to my hips in an attempt to slow me down. But she wouldn’t really, opting for simply carving her nails on my flesh as she took every single rope of cum I’d deposit between her eager lips.

Fuck. I let the water wash away the sin I had just committed while sending up a prayer for better control when Y/N arrived. The last thing I needed was to be stuck in the bathroom, touching myself while she was at my house.

[simplygojo]

A Path I Can't Follow

Author's Note: SO I was already writing this one shot when I got this awesome request from an anon, so I merged it into this. My Star Wars fans will be so happy with this one LOLL, well actually not happy bc its mega angst (iykyk). JUSTICE FOR ANAKIN AND SUGURU!!!

I recommend listening to your favourite sad playlist while reading, makes the experience 1111000% better.

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader

Also, I have a giveaway event going on rn, if you'd like to enter to win an Amazon gift card then check it out here.

Request linked here

Warnings: violence, grief, loss, death. (yeah, I said mega angst...)

Tags: @simplyyyuji; If you'd like to be added to my taglist pls comment/dm me!

It had been almost a month since Suguru Geto abandoned the Jujutsu world, leaving behind a trail of devastation that none of you could have anticipated. 

The day Gojo gave you the news…your world fractured in ways you couldn’t comprehend.

When Satoru found you in the training hall, his usually carefree expression was replaced with something grim, something haunted. 

The lighthearted banter you’d come to expect from him was absent, replaced by a heavy silence that stretched between you like a void. 

You had known something was wrong before he even said it, but nothing could have prepared you for the words that followed.

Suguru had cursed an entire village—men, women, children—and even worse, his own parents were among them.

Your mind couldn’t grasp it at first. 

The Suguru you knew, the one who held you close on quiet nights, who used to laugh softly at your terrible jokes and talk about a future that didn’t involve exorcisms or endless battles, was suddenly unrecognizable. 

How could he have done something so monstrous?

You remembered staring blankly at Gojo, your body numb, the room spinning as he continued speaking, his voice distant as you felt something hot stream down your cheeks. 

You had been dating Suguru for three years—three years of knowing every side of him…or so you thought. 

But this? 

This was something you could never have imagined.

The ache in your chest was unbearable, it felt as if someone had hollowed you out from the inside. You shook your head violently “No…no…”

You couldn’t produce an image of the man you loved according to the monster Gojo had described. 

The same man who used to trace circles on your back as you fell asleep, whispering that everything would be okay, had now left a village in ruins, and your mind couldn’t process it.

Gojo’s voice had softened when he saw the look on your face, but the pity in his eyes only made it worse, and you fell to the ground in a broken mess. 

"I’m sorry," he’d said, and though you knew he meant it, those words felt hollow, as you knew he had lost someone important too in all of this.

You barely remembered what happened after that. 

The days blurred together in a haze of disbelief and grief. You stayed in your room, replaying every conversation, every mission, searching for the moment when it all went wrong. 

How had you missed this? 

How could Suguru have changed so completely without you realizing it?

The weight of his absence crushed you. 

The empty spaces he left behind—the way your bed felt too big without him in it, the quiet moments in the common room that you used to fill with laughter—were suffocating. 

And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the truth: Suguru Geto, the man you loved, had become someone you didn’t recognize. 

And you didn’t what from him, no goodbye, no I’m sorry—nothing from the man you loved.

You had been avoiding your phone, pushing the thoughts of Suguru away because they hurt too much to hold onto. 

The soft knock at your bedroom door made your heart jump, only for it to fall when you realized it wasn’t him—It was never him.

But when you opened the door to see a letter laid on the ground—folded, worn edges, and unmistakably his handwriting—your world spun for a moment. 

He had sent it. After everything, after weeks of silence, Suguru sent you a note.

Your fingers trembled as you opened it, heart racing, unsure whether you should laugh or cry at the mere fact that he reached out.

"Meet me."

And, God help you, you went.

—

The air was thick, and the sky was dark when you arrived at the temple. 

It clung to your skin, heavy with unspoken words, with things left unsaid between the two of you. 

Your feet felt like they were sinking into the earth as you climbed the steps, each one pulling you deeper into a place you weren’t sure you could return from.

And there he was.

Suguru stood by the edge of the open hall, staring out into the night, his back turned to you as the wind stirred his long hair. He didn’t move as you approached, didn’t say anything, even though you knew he had to have sensed your presence. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing your voice to come out steady. "Suguru."

It barely came out as a whisper, but it was enough. His shoulders stiffened, the only sign that he had heard you. 

You waited for him to turn, for him to say something—anything—that would make sense of the last few weeks. But he didn’t move.

The silence pressed down on you, suffocating.

“Why did you do all this?” You finally asked, your voice cracking under the weight of the question that had haunted you every day since he disappeared.

Suguru exhaled slowly, a sound that was more sigh than breath. "I had to." He said before finally turning around to face you. 

That was all he offered. 

No apology, no explanation, just that hollow statement, like it was meant to answer everything.

You could see his features soften as your eyes locked. 

He had almost forgotten how beautiful you were, how your features calmed him and brought him warmth—a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shook your head, trying to hold yourself together as you spoke softly. 

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t have to curse an entire village to death. You didn’t even tell me—” Your voice cracked as you felt the pain of his absence catching up to you. “You left me. You left all of us.”

Finally, he began slowly walking towards where you stood in the doorway. His eyes met yours, and the sight of him, standing there so composed, so distant, shattered something inside you.

"I couldn’t stay," he said, his voice steady in a way that made your chest ache. "This world… it’s broken. Staying wouldn’t change that."

You took a step toward him, desperation clawing at you. "We could’ve fixed it together. You didn’t even try to talk to Satoru or me. You didn’t have to leave."

He shook his head, his eyes hard, resolute. 

"You shouldn’t bother yourself with Satoru…” He paused, “I’m building something new. Something better. I can’t fix this world from the inside. I can’t pretend anymore." He took a few more steps, closing the distance between you with agonizing slowness, each step erasing the space but widening the gap between who he had been and who he had become.

You felt the urge rise, the instinct to reach out, to touch him like you used to, like it would somehow bring him back to you. 

But your hands stayed frozen at your sides, weighed down by the fear—no, the fact that your beautiful boy was already too far gone.

Your heart dropped. 

The person standing in front of you wasn’t the Suguru you had known, the one who held you close after every mission, the one who whispered your name like it was a prayer. This man was a stranger, distant and cold.

“And what about us?” Your voice cracked again, tears burning behind your eyes as you fought to keep them at bay. “What about everything we had, Suguru?”

His jaw clenched. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes, something soft and familiar. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, chilling determination. 

"I can’t go back." His voice was quiet but firm as his thumb ran over your sift skin, reminding you of the happiness you once had with this man.

Unbeknownst to you, tears began to slip down your cheeks, hot and unchecked. You leaned into his touch, your voice trembling with emotion. 

“What you are doing…I-It’s insane. You, me, the others—we were building something.”

He shook his head, his expression hardening as his gaze turned distant again but still locked onto your crying eyes, his hand moving down to rest on the side of your neck, his touch was cold on your warm skin. 

“No, y/n. We weren’t building anything. I was just wasting my time.”

You flinched as if he had struck you, the weight of his words slamming into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

“Wasting time?” 

You staggered back, away from his grasp, shaking your head, hands gripping your arms as though trying to hold yourself together. 

“This isn’t you, Suguru. You’re not this... this person. You’re not—not a monster…” Your voice faltered, a sob finally breaking free from your quivering lips as you looked away from his once-kind eyes. 

“Come home to me, baby. Please.”

You hated how desperate you sounded, how your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest as you stood there, pleading with the only person you had ever truly loved.

“I can’t,” he said softly, and that softness hurt worse than anything else. His eyes met yours, and you saw it—the finality in them. 

“I’m building something new. A world where the weak don’t suffer. A world that’s right.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and bitter, but you couldn’t stop them. “We could do that together! We could—”

“No, y/n!” His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold as ice. 

He had never yelled at you, never raised his voice like this, and the sound of it sent a fresh wave of pain and fear crashing over you. 

“We can’t.”

You flinched at his harshness, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He looked away, jaw clenched tight, as if the mere sight of your tears was too much for him. 

"I’m doing this for us," he continued, his voice lower but no less resolute. "For everyone.”

"Suguru…you’re breaking my heart, you’re going down a path I can’t follow” The words slipped out, quiet but forceful. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, the man you always thought you couldn’t live without.

He shook his head softly, slowly approaching you as you moved away from him. “Y/n…everything I’ve done, has been necessary…"

“Necessary?” You spat, your voice trembling as your grief twisted into rage, angry tears streaming down your face. “You think abandoning me—abandoning everything we have worked for—is necessary?”

He shook his head, taking small steps towards you slowly closing the space between you once more. 

“You don’t understand,” he murmured. “I’m not abandoning you. I’m—”

“Then what is this?!” You interrupted, your voice breaking as the pain inside you twisted into something desperate, broken. 

“What do you call this if not abandonment?!” You screamed, your tear-filled eyes locking with his, and you knew he could see the pain in your soul, the pain he caused you.

Suguru’s eyes flashed, a familiar glint passing through them, and for the first time since you arrived, you saw something close to regret in his gaze. He looked at you in a way you never thought you’d get to see again—with love.

Before you could even react, his lips were on yours, urgent and full of emotion. 

The kiss hit you like a truck, your breath stolen from your lungs as his hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair as he desperately pulled you closer.

The shock of it left you frozen for a heartbeat, but then your body responded on its own, your hands reaching up to cup his face. 

Your fingers brushed against the familiar curve of his jaw, the rough stubble beneath your touch grounding you in a moment that felt both surreal and inevitable. 

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, a mixture of desperation and longing, as if he were trying to pour every unsaid word, every unresolved feeling, into the press of his lips.

Suguru kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, as if he could somehow erase the pain that he saw reflected in your tears with this one act. 

His lips were soft, but his grip on you was firm, holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. 

And for a moment, you let yourself fall into it—into him. You let the world fall away, let the ache in your chest dissolve into the warmth of his touch.

Your hands trembled slightly as they moved from his jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, refusing to let him slip away again. 

His kiss deepened, and you felt the weight of all the emotions he wasn’t saying—the regret, the sorrow, the love that still lingered between you, even in the midst of everything.

But as your lips moved with his, the reality of what was happening began to creep back in. 

This kiss wasn’t a promise—it was a goodbye, a last grasp at something that had already been broken beyond repair. 

You could feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way his breath hitched slightly as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

His hand lingered on the back of your head, but there was a distance in his touch, a hesitation that hadn't been there before. 

When you opened your eyes and looked into his, you saw the tears welling up, threatening to spill from the depths of his deep purple gaze.

“Suguru…” Your voice was soft as you spoke, 

“I love you, I have, continue to, and will forever love you.” 

You watched his eyes search yours, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air as a single tear slipped down his cheek, his lips quivered slightly, and you felt your heart shatter within your chest. 

Instinctively, you raised your thumb to wipe it away, your gentle touch resting on his skin as your hands cradled his face. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips contrasted sharply with the hot tears streaming down your own face, the ache in your chest growing as you held onto each other tightly. 

His fingers traced small, soothing patterns on your cheek, evoking the memories of laughter and love you once shared, of moments that felt invincible and eternal.

“Please, baby, come h—” you began, desperation threading through your voice, the plea heavy on your lips. But before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss—this one frantic and urgent, a collision of emotions. 

Your lips moved together, moisture mixing due to you both crying, it was as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn't articulate, the weight of his sorrow and regret pouring into the embrace. 

His hands became tangled in your hair again as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with familiarity.

He kissed you with a fervour that spoke of longing, a need to bridge the gap that had formed between you. 

This kiss was deeper and more intense, echoing the confessions left unspoken, the promises he had broken. 

In that moment, you both surrendered to the flood of feelings that surged between you, clinging to each other as if the world around you had ceased to exist.

He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Please, Suguru,” you said through your tears, your voice raw. “I love you. I love you so much.”

For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t say anything. 

He just looked at you, as if memorizing the way you looked right then—broken, crying, desperate. 

“Love won’t save you, y/n, only power can do that.” He said, straightening his spine and letting his hands fall to his sides. 

“But at what cost? You are a good person, probably the best I’ve ever met. Don’t do this!” You cried, watching his eyes darken with something you weren't familiar with. 

“You don’t understand, y/n, I am bringing about the world of the sorcerers! Those monkeys needed to be taken out in order for us to survive.” He tried explaining, and you felt your heart practically tearing apart.

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing…Satoru was right…You’ve changed.” You said, taking a few steps backward to create some space between you. You noticed his eyebrows crinkle at the sound of your words.

“I don’t want to hear any more about Satoru!” He shouted, growing visibly angry as he continued, “He thinks he can take anything he wants, don’t you let him take you from me too!” 

You let out a defeated sigh, but the hot stream of tears didn’t stop flowing. “I don't know you anymore Suguru…”

“Because of Satoru?” He said accusingly.

You shook you head, a look of disbelief sprawled across your face. 

“Because of what you've done—What you plan to do! Stop! Stop now... come back! I love you!”

Suguru’s features softened and he took a gentle step towards you. Before you could get another word out, his eyes darted to the doorway behind you, and that dark angered look returned. 

You turned your head to meet the object of his gaze and were surprised to see Gojo standing in the doorway, his shades loosely between two fingers at his side.

“You’re with him! You brought him here because you know he’s the only one who can kill me!” Suguru shouted, his eyes meeting yours with a raging fire you hadn’t seen before, sending a wave of fear through your body. 

“No! I don’t know why he’s her–.” You pleaded your hands clasping together in front of you—But Suguru wasn’t listening. 

All he saw was red—the overwhelming rage and betrayal clouding his judgment, twisting every word you said into something darker.

Without hesitation, his hand lifted, fingers curling into a fist. The motion was swift, almost instinctive, and before you could react, the sensation of his familiar snake-like curse coiled around your body. 

Its grip tightened with terrifying speed, constricting your airway, and your breath hitched violently.

Panic surged through you as your vision began to blur. You tried to speak, tried to plead with him, but the pressure around your throat made it impossible. 

Your hands flew up to your neck in a futile attempt to loosen the curse’s grip, but it was no use.

Your eyes locked onto his, searching for some sign of the man you once loved—some hint of the tenderness he used to show you. But the fire in his gaze was all-consuming, the rage overpowering the softness you had once known.

Tears streamed down your face, each drop burning against your skin as your body began to falter. 

Yet, through the haze of suffocating pain, you noticed something—the glistening tears that fell from Suguru’s own eyes, tracing silent paths down his cheeks.

Even in his anger, his heart ached. 

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Before you could let out your final breath, you managed to say one last thing as you stared into his dangerous eyes–the same ones you fell in love with, searching for one last glimpse of the man you loved.

“I will–always love–you.” You breathed, voice hoarse as you felt your body slip into unconsciousness. 

A single tear slipped down his cheek, one he didn’t bother wiping away this time. The weight of your final words crushed him, cracking through the hardened shell he’d encased himself in. 

‘I can’t let Satoru take her from me’ he thought to himself.

Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as your words hung in the air like a ghost. 

‘I will—always love—you.’

It was as if the last shred of your strength had been spent in those words, the way you looked at him, your eyes full of love and pain, piercing through the darkness he’d embraced.

His grip on you tightened, the snake-like curse coiling around your now limp neck with unrelenting force. 

His thoughts were frantic—disjointed. 

But then, Gojo’s voice boomed, snapping through the suffocating tension like a whip, 

“Suguru, let her go!” It wasn’t a request—it was a command. At that moment, the intensity of Gojo's eyes was enough to shake even Suguru.

“Let her go, damn it!” Gojo’s voice cracked, desperation seeping through his usual unshakable composure. 

“You’ve probably just killed her!”

Suguru’s hands faltered, his eyes widening in sudden horror. 

Gojo’s words pierced through the haze of rage clouding his mind. 

Killed her? No… That couldn’t be true. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d only wanted to protect you—to keep you by his side.

“No…no, no, no…” Suguru muttered, releasing the curse, causing your body to fall to the floor with a loud thud. His hand covered his mouth as he stumbled back. 

His eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and he quickly went to hold you in his arms. “No!” 

Panic seeped into his gaze as he saw your limp form cradled in his arms, your head lolling to the side. 

‘No, she’s not—she can’t be—’

“Y/n…?” Suguru whispered, dropping to his knees beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your neck, unsure, terrified of what he might find. 

His breathing hitched, and for the first time in a month, Suguru Geto was terrified.

“Suguru, what did you do?!” Gojo's voice rang out again, fury and heartbreak mingling together. 

His hands clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the urge to tear Suguru apart. 

But even now, beneath the rage, there was still that glimmer of hope—hope that you could be saved.

Suguru shook his head, his movements erratic, his denial absolute. “She’s—she’s fine, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—” His voice broke, trembling as his eyes darted between your pale face and Gojo’s stricken expression. 

He hadn’t meant to kill you—he never meant for it to end this way.

“I-I didn’t—” His words trailed off, his mind spiralling as he realized the depth of what he had done. 

The weight of his actions crashed down on him, and for a moment, he was paralyzed by the enormity of his guilt.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his hands trembling as he walked towards where you laid in his arms.

“Suguru,” he growled, voice laced with cold fury. 

“You’ve killed her.”

“No!” Suguru shouted, backing away from you, as if Gojo’s words were physical blows. 

His chest heaved, his breath shallow as panic surged through him. 

He stumbled to his feet, shaking his head in disbelief, refusing to accept what had just happened.

“No, I didn’t—she’s not—she’s still alive!”

Gojo’s pained gaze flickered to your still form, and in that instant, Suguru knew—he couldn’t stay. 

Not with Gojo there. Not with the full weight of his crime pressing down on him. He turned on his heel, his heart hammering in his chest as he muttered incoherent apologies to the air, his mind fractured and overwhelmed.

Without another word, Suguru bolted from the room, his footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. 

Gojo didn’t move—he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when your life hung in the balance.

The room fell into a suffocating quiet, the remnants of your final plea still echoing in the air.

There weren’t many thoughts going through Gojo’s head as he carried your lifeless body back to Jujutsy High, just one—he had lost his two best friends that night.

—

5 Days Later

Suguru had recruited a few curse users since his incident with you and Gojo at the temple. He had managed to knock you out so Gojo wouldn’t be able to stick around and kill him, he couldn’t afford to delay his plans. Or so he convinced himself.

One evening, he was approached by two girls he had adopted, Nanako and Mimiko, who claimed to have news from Jujutsu High, as they were responsible for gaining intel from the school to keep tabs. 

“Let's hear it. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you girls,” He said softly, a warm smile playing on his lips as the two girls sat beside him. 

“Not at all, Mr. Geto.” Mimiko said taking out a piece of paper from her pocket to read some bullet points, written in glitter gel pens. 

“Um, no one is making any real progress on tracking you down, probably because they’re all idiots,” she said, rolling her eyes. Suguru let out a small chuckle.

“Well that’s good news, anything else?” He said, that same smile plastered on his face.

“Oh yeah, that girl sorcerer you fought with is dead, what was her name? Ummmmm, oh yeah! Y/n y/l/n!” 

Suguru’s entire body went rigid, the casual warmth that had coloured his voice just moments ago draining in an instant. His heart seized in his chest as Mimiko’s words echoed in his ears.

‘Y/n y/l/n… dead.’

“No,” he muttered, his voice strained and barely audible as the room seemed to tilt around him. 

“That’s impossible. I—” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

“I just knocked her unconscious… I didn’t—” His words trailed off, his mind spiralling back to that moment, to the look in your eyes as his cursed spirit wrapped around your neck.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t mean to…’

“Yeah,” Nanako added, her tone indifferent as she glanced at the paper. “That doctor lady’s  report said her neck was broken—shattered, actually. Sounds like there was nothing they could do. She died instantly.”

Suguru’s breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. 

His mind raced back to that final moment, your whispered words replaying in his head over and over again. ‘I will—always love—you.’

‘How had it come to this? How had he let it happen?’

His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady himself, but the world was slipping through his fingers. 

He hadn’t meant to kill you. He didn’t want that. He had only wanted to stop you—stop you from siding with Gojo. Stop you from leaving him, like everyone else had. 

But now… Now you’re gone.

“Mr. Geto?” Mimiko’s soft voice attempted to pull him out of his thoughts, but it did nothing to soothe the storm that raged inside him. 

He couldn’t hear her. He could barely hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, the distant echo of your last breath.

He stood abruptly, pushing away from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Both girls flinched, their eyes widening in confusion as they watched his usually composed demeanour unravel.

“Mr. Geto?” Nanako called out again, her voice small.

But Suguru wasn’t listening anymore. He turned away, his mind a tangled mess of disbelief and horror. 

He had to get out—out of this room, out of this suffocating realization that he had killed the one person who had loved him enough to try to save him.

His chest heaved as he stumbled toward the door, his vision blurring at the edges. The air felt too thick, too hot, and for the first time in years, 

Suguru Geto felt like he was drowning. 

‘I killed my beautiful y/n…’ The thought reverberated like a haunting mantra, suffocating him from the inside.

He barely registered the sound of the girls calling after him as he staggered outside, cold night air hitting his skin but doing little to calm the chaos inside him. 

Suguru collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged, his hands clutching at his head as if he could somehow block out the reality of what he had done. 

The tears came, unbidden, hot and stinging, falling freely down his face as he let out a broken, anguished sob.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“Y/n…” he whispered into the cold night air, his voice shattered. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But it was too late. He had chosen the dark side…

The world he sought to create, one where the weak no longer suffered, now felt more hollow than ever.

And all that remained was the bitter taste of regret, the price of his ambition.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OMG RAVEN YOU’RE INTO EVER AFTER HIGH? I love it but can’t talk about it bc none of my friends have seen it 😭 I wish it was talked about more, especially with how deep their lore runs. I love EAH’s dynamics with the complexities of destiny. If twst followed the same logic as eah’s world it would be so interesting. How would you feel if the worlds were to mesh together and how it would work? You can interpret that in any way you want; the characters meeting or twst being bound to the same rules and societal expectations of eah, or whatnot.

Also who’s your favorite eah character compared to your favorite twst character (Leona)?Jade, right?

And have you read the eah books? I haven’t, but I’m going to try to sometime!

Eah alt account when?

I'm still salty that the Monster High x Ever After High crossover movie never saw the light of day-- Part of the reason why I don't like Disney (I mean the faceless corpo, not all Disney products) is because they have such a strong association with fairy tales that it pushes other interpretations out of the market or it leads to people assuming Disney "owns" those fairy tales. Ever After High's lore and themes run so much deeper than most other fairy tale reimaginings I've seen (and I've seen a lot). It's such a shame it doesn't get the respect and recognition it deserves even though EAH is the one out here challenging the status quo whereas modern Disney is content with mediocrity that appeals to the masses.

I think EAH and TWST, at their cores, share similar ideas so combining them would work well. Friendship, self-identity, defining your own future, questioning what "good" and "evil" truly are... It's all there. I'd imagine that if Twisted Wonderland (or at least NRC) followed the same rules as EAH, then everyone would be descendants of their Disney counterparts. (This is actually a common misperception of what TWST was to new fans; people mistakenly believe the TWST characters are children of the classic Disney villains. This has never been canon.) Unfortunately, I'd have to take away the Disney villains being twisted to be "good" guys in Twisted Wonderland's world in order for this to work by EAH rules, so... There's that to consider. This, in turn, can result in the student body splitting into Royals (pro-following one's destiny) and Rebels (anti-following one's destiny). Perhaps RSA and NRC could be one school in this AU...? Just so we have a mix of "good" and "evil" descended children in the same vicinity as one another. A must-have are the constantly bickering Narrators!! It's only really when Yuu shows up that the majority opinion starts to shift. Maybe then Crowley becomes concerned with students rising up and fighting back against the system that relies on them being complacent to keep the cycle of stories going. I've seen some readings of EAH which theorize that Royals guaranteed a happy ending is a stand-in for privilege, and that interpretation leads into very interesting conflicts when we also consider that magic in Twisted Wonderland is a privilege afforded to few.

To cover just the dorm leaders (because covering all the TWST characters would make this post way longer), I definitely see Riddle, Kalim, Idia, and Malleus as Royals and Leona, Azul, and Vil as Rebels. Here's my thought process:

Riddle is pretty self-explanatory. He comes from a background where he's used to being told what to do by his mother and so he also heavily relies on her strict, unyielding teachings to play by the book when he goes out there in the real world. Riddle is inflexible and hesitant to go against the grain--and, more importantly, he fully believes that following the rules will lead to his happiness... that doing as his fairy tale ordains will lead to a happy ending. What happens to the Queen of Hearts is dubious in the end since it's framed as Alice's dream, so I think that vagueness gives Riddle hope that by behaving himself, he'll earn the happiness he desires.

Leona is a Rebel, and not just because that's the aesthetic of his dorm. Being that he is highly intelligent and demonstrates a lot of foresight, he'd be aware of what future is in store for him and aggressively fighting against that. It would make him more desperate than ever to prove his worth, because not only does everyone see his powers as terrifying, but they also see him as a future brother murderer and dictator that will bleed the land dry of resources. It'd make the situation with his family even more strained than it already is, not to mention the extra jealousy he must feel toward Cheka, who is still too young to understand what's going to happen later.

Azul is someone who acts like a Royal but is actually a Rebel. He acts polite and like he plays by the rules, but clearly he doesn't behind the scenes. I see Azul as the kind of Rebel akin to Duchess Swan... as in, he believes he can steal away someone else's destiny for himself. Azul would constantly be looking for loopholes to save himself. He's put way too much stock into becoming a better, stronger person and he'd want to defend this new life he has made for himself. His obsession with protecting his contracts could translate well here.

Kalim is a Royal because he's mega rich and has been sheltered from the concept of bad things that happen to normal people; he has nothing to worry about. It also helps that Kalim is twisted from a character that doesn't meet a bad ending. I think he'd be aware of Jami's doomed destiny, but Kalim is so ignorant that he thinks it'll just be fine and it'll work itself out. Part of his growth could be being forced to reckon with the reality that Jamil is suffering under the legacy assigned to him and accepting the role that he plays in that by not acting.

Idia is a Royal--or at least pre-book 6 Idia is. He's a very pessimistic guy and repeatedly expresses hopelessness about the future, bemoaning the curse he and his family have to bear. Idia doesn't want to try to fight his fate, he's already accepted that it will happen and so closes himself off from others to save himself that heartbreak. Post-book 6 Idia will have swapped over to the Rebel side thanks to Ortho reviving the hope in him.

Vil is a Rebel simply for the fact that he fights social conventions. He's already out here shattering gender roles, but finds it much harder to breach that expectation that villains are just villains and nothing more. Vil keeps getting rejected at every turn, told that it's impossible to rewrite his story, that his frustrations are the natural result of jealousy and an ugly heart that festers in side of him. He steels himself to prove that notion wrong, working himself to the bone to get up on that stage and stay on it, waiting to be lavished with praise that he truly is the fairest one of all. I feel this would be so fascinating for Vil's own arc about self acceptance; maybe he wears himself down emotionally because he HAS to basically be perfect due to his job but also denies himself normal feelings like anger and jealousy because confessing that you have such "ugly" feelings only validates that you're shallow just like the stories say you will be.

Malleus is a tough one, but I settled for Royal in the end. Maleficent is doomed to be slain by a sword, right? So am I saying that THE Malleus Draconia, who is infamously arrogant about his magical abilities, would lie down and take a stab like that? Of course not! However, I do think that Malleus is initially someone who values tradition and living up to noblesse oblige. As the future ruler of a nation, people's stories are relying on him to play his expected role out, which he'd be fully cognizant of. I also think Malleus would be afforded the luxury of not having to face his destiny as soon as his peers are due to his long life span. This is in part because the person destined to slay him doesn't come into his life for literally hundreds of years. Then when book 7 arrives, Malleus has to deal with his loved ones leaving and/or betraying him as well as the realization that this is his destiny: dying alone and unloved. That'd just break him.

ahdbiqwdbqwli I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS AU FOR FOREVER BUT I'LL CUT IT SHORT OR ELSE I'LL NEVER SHUT UP 😭

EAH has so many good characters and interesting storylines, it's hard for me to pick a favorite! I of course love Apple and Raven's dilemmas, but I feel like it's cheating to pick one of them as my favorite. The whole Wonderland gang is also fantastic... I'm a sucker for their aesthetic, but they're so fun and silly in general. Kitty, Lizzie, and especially Madeline are 👌

Mmm, when I think long and hard about it, I think my favorite EAH character has to be Briar Beauty, daughter of Sleeping Beauty. Firstly, I love all the pink, roses, and bramble in her design. Secondly, I love the layers to why she is the way she is. Briar's a party girl not because "lmao, wouldn't that be a funny haha subversion of Sleeping Beauty" but because she wants to live life up before she falls asleep for 100 years and literally loses all her friends and family to the natural passage of time. That's seriously so smart and such an inventive way to think about the trauma a descendant of Sleeping Beauty might have. Seeing Briar transition from one of Apple's besties and biggest supporters to an outright rebel is satisfying as heck. (Gotta take a moment to shout out this classic moment :3)

I don't know if I would compare Briar to Jade since they're entirely different characters. However, looking at the source material, I'm actually surprised I like Briar as much as I do since I have never cared for the story of Sleeping Beauty. A part of me finds this ironic since Malleus harbors a similar fear as Briar (losing loved ones) yet I see Malleus's desire as way more selfish and self-serving than Briar's. I believe that's because Briar doesn't have the same arrogance as Malleus, so I'm more forgiving with her. EAH's actual equivalent to Malleus is Faybelle, daughter of the Dark Fairy, but I don't like her as much as I do Briar (hence why I'm comparing Malleus and Briar, not Malleus and Faybelle).

I haven't read the EAH books but I want to one day! I'd prefer to borrow them since I don't have enough space in my room for more physical books, so as soon as I find copies at a library or something...

This blog has kind of become a place where I occasionally talk about my other interests, generally as it relates to TWST, my main interest. I'd like to keep it like this since managing multiple blogs can be so draining. It already takes quite a bit of time to regularly write responses to asks just on one blog!

[koolades-world]

Hii!! I was wondering if I could get headcanons for an mc that was really attached to the brothers? Like they’re often around them and don’t really give a reason why. It’s only later that they tell the brothers that they’re less frightened when with them. I can only imagine how absolutely terrifying the devildom must be to first timers. Sorry if this was too wordy lol.

hello there :) of course. no worries, not too wordy!!

enjoy <3

Mc who's attached to the brothers

Lucifer

he finds it a little odd that you picked him of all people

hope you're ready to be put to work! of course nothing too serious but you'll for sure be helping carry around papers and stuff like that

in a way, you remind him of his brothers, the loving, cute side of them, not the little gremlin side haha

however when you tell him it's because you are just more comfortable around him, he gives you a gentle smile and hug. you find after this he's sweeter in subtle ways <3

Mammon

of course you want to follow the great mammon around! who wouldn't?

he's a little insecure at first, like you might be reporting back to lucifer with what you see and hear, but you reassure him there's no real reason

he really enjoys getting to spend so much time with you and is glad you're willing to be his friend

he has no clue how to react upon learning the real reason behind why you're always with him, so at first he reacts as he usually would, but once he processes it, he sheepishly will tell you thank you for entrusting him with such an honor

Levi

why would you want to spend so much time with a yucky otaku like him?

as you grow closer, he really begins to enjoy your presence and having a buddy to always chat with about the things he's interested in and won't leave him mid-conversation

you help him grow more optimistic and confident in himself

he initially questions why you'd pick him of all demons to feel most comfortable around, but once he realizes it's because of the bond you formed, he's still shy but is ready to accept this fact. anywhere you go, he'll follow

Satan

he doesn't stop you but he always wonders why you've selected him, the avatar of wrath, to act as your devildom buddy?

at first, he juts chalks it up to wanting to hide behind his rage and get help with rad work, but soon you start to form a closer bond

it's then when you confess that you just feel safer and more comfortable around him. part of his hunch was correct, but what you described was on a much closer, more personal reason

now, he always waits for you and helps you out where he can because now he knows you like him for him, not what others see him as. others say he really softened up after that day

Asmo

his bed is always open if you want to crawl in with him and will gladly be your beautiful knight in shining armor haha

he's used to having fans, but you're much more than that to him

he really doesn't mind and finds it nice to always have someone around

when you tell him the real reason why, he's going to squeal so loud the demon lord hears and hug you incredibly tightly. maybe he's tearing up a little, but you're literally inseparable now. after that beautiful emotional display you're joined at the hip

Beel

he really quite likes that you like to be around him. early on, it's actually quite a comfort because belphie wasn't around and he was quick to reciprocate the closeness

the two of you always seek each other out, and you quickly fall into a routine

soon, you tell him he makes the devildom more welcoming and make you feel more at home, and he's over the moon

even more so than before, he really looks out for you and treats you as a member of the family even if the others haven't gotten to that level yet. to him, you belong at the hol and in the devildom, with him

Belphie

every time he woke up from a nap, he'd find you next to him. he thought it was a little odd but he wasn't going to stop you

he honestly thought you'd never want to see him again, but you always seem to be by his side

odd was the only word he could find to describe you and the bon you'd formed. he never pressed you for why since he didn't feel like he deserved to know

he's overjoyed that he's your safe place. he never thought you'd seek comfort in him, but he's ready to welcome you with open arms. he's ready to join you on every step of your journey where ever you go, and he'll keep you safe since he feels as if he failed you before

[vrisrezis]

Love triangle?? With atsv characters

Basically a love triangle between them, their spider alter ego and you … ?

Gwen has been longtime best friends with you and Peter for what feels like forever. Even after peters passing, you and Gwen remained close. Throughout the years, it was only natural for gwen to fall for you, her best friend. Peter had often encouraged her to try and go for it, but she never gave in to the temptation. Not when she has been lying to you for so long about who she really was. While her dad did often speak his mind on the mysterious spiderwoman and his doubts, you always seemed excited talking about her. It didn’t take long for her to find out you were not only a huge fan, but definitely had a bit of a crush.

This was amusing to her, obviously. But it also made her wonder if you felt nothing for the real her, and you just liked some alter ego of hers because she was cool and saved the day or whatever.

How you and spiderwoman met, was not under the best of circumstances. As you can imagine.

Growing up, you were always pretty tough. Fighting for and defending Peter against bullies, it was what drawn gwen to you right away. You always stood up for others, and perhaps in the real world it’d get you in more trouble, trying to help a defenses old man against some mugger, you nearly got real hurt in the process. Thankfully, your celebrity crush was there to web him up.

She remembers the look you gave her, you were so.. awestruck.

You never looked at her like that. Not the real her, anyway.

“Thank you spiderwoman!” you say with glee, a word she would almost never use to describe you.

She clears her throat, seeming off guard by the way you greeted her. Or perhaps she was caught off guard by how beautiful you looked in the moonlight. Is it hot outside or is it just her suit?

“Uh… uh…” she hesitates for a moment, before displaying faux confidence. She nods in understanding, “anytime, hopefully next time I’ll see you under better circumstances, cutie.” she says with a wink, before swinging away.

There’s practically hearts in your eyes, did spider woman… just flirt with you?!

Meanwhile, gwen is freaking the hell out over the fact she just said that. It’s certainly easier to flirt under the mask, she supposes.

You didn’t shut up about spiderwoman for the next week.

Miles was one of your best friends, had been for over a year now. Although this friendship, to many seemed newly found, to you both it felt like you knew eachother forever. You often ignored how Ganke never failed to mention that’s something people in love say about eachother.

Ganke was a close friend to the both of you. He was also very much aware of how miles was keeping this huge secret from you, and he often relayed to miles how he should just tell you already. Miles said no, everytime. So ganke had to resort to desperate measures, on one of your many hangouts with the two males.

“Hey, I’m curious.” Ganke starts, “what do you think of Spiderman?”

Miles nearly chokes, he looks wide eyed at ganke, as if ganke just killed a cat. Honestly, ganke is surprised miles hadn’t brought up Spiderman to you himself before, but honestly miles was terrified of what you actually thought, to the point he didn’t want it mentioned at all in front of you.

But your immediate grin makes miles almost audibly sigh.

“I think he’s awesome! Way cooler than the other one to be honest like wow have you seen that suit? Nice color.” Miles couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up in excitement. How come he hasn’t heard you talk about spiderman before if you liked him so much?

“Hey, miles?”

“Huh?!” he yells, his voice becoming so high pitched it sounded like he was just hitting puberty, making you laugh.

“I- I mean.. yeah… what’s up?”

“Do you think he’s … cute?” you ask, rather curious what miles thinks of spiderman.

Ganke almost laughs at how wide miles eyes are, somehow even wider than before.

You would eventually have the chance to meet spiderman, which was not something miles would be happy about. A fight with a particularly … tough villain had caused much damage to the city. Miles swears, today he had to pull up at least 3 buses by his webs.

However, the bus you were in, as plain as day. He couldn’t see anyone but you, the other people in the bus being a blur to him.

He was scared, so so so scared. The moment you’re out and safe, he wants to hug you. He almost does, but he’s able to restrain himself once he feels gwen tug his arm, warning him of how weird that’d be.

He sighs, but he sees you smile at him, grateful. He’s blissfully unaware of how hot your cheeks are, seeing him in the flesh, in person.

You wonder if he’d be okay with signing an autograph.

Hobie was never the type for being subtle. He was blunt, but because of his casualness about it people do not take what he says seriously. He didn’t plan on making a strong effort to hide being spiderman from you. Because he trusts you, with his life in fact.

You two have fought together on many different occasions, way before he became spiderman. People didn’t like either of you, when you were young at least. Strong and unafraid, and like him, you often spoke your mind about things. Granted, you were a lot nicer about it but still. It’s something he definitely likes about you. To him, falling for you just felt natural. Like it was meant to happen. Like falling for you was second nature.

But over his time of becoming spiderman, he had … well… found out you had a major crush on his alter ego. You did not shut up about how “babygirl” he was. And while this was amusing at first, it annoyed him a little. Did that mean you weren’t interested in him, as hobie, romantically? And if you did find out who he really was, would you still like spiderman? Or would it ruin the imagination for you? And if you did, would it only be because he’s spiderman?

A lot of questions circle his mind, a lot of worry and it isn’t like him. He really hates it. Only you can manage to do that to him.

Eventually, the two of you do end up meeting.

You were known for being a fighter, laws or not, you didn’t care, maybe a bit headstrong in your beliefs. Maybe you got too caught up in things, as you often did. Difference was, hobie was not there to back you up. As he often was.

Not this time though, as apparently Hobie had some unfinished business to deal with. You had no idea what that meant, but you trusted hobie enough that he wouldn’t go off doing something stupid without you.

You were not hobie however, and did something stupid without him.

While yes, the guy had harassed you first and you had every right to be angry with him, you probably shouldn’t have provoked such a big and muscular looking guy. There’s no way you could take him in a fight, but you could always try.

Before you even had the gall to fight this guy, before he can even pull the first punch, webs are shot his way. You gasp in surprise, turning behind you to see the one and only.

His movements are quick, and honestly, spiderman struggles for a little.

If even he struggled during that fight, you didn’t stand a chance. But you’re too busy absolutely fangirl/boy/theythem’ing to even care.

Once everything was said and done, Spiderman turned around to take a look at you. He was relieved you weren’t banged up or anything, though you couldn’t tell. “You aight?” he asked, and typically he was so cool and collected, but around you he had no idea how he should be acting. Thoughts from before still clouding his mind:

He lets them go for a moment upon your excited squeal and has to hold himself back from laughing.

Pavitr mentioned spiderman quite a bit, and very early on when he first became the masked vigilante. He was quick to gauge your opinions, because in his mind you’re thoughts and feelings matter the most to him.

He would quickly learn you loved the guy, so he proudly continued doing the whole superhero thing. However, as time went by he had seen your admiration for Spiderman develop into a crush. Only upon your first meeting with him, though. He couldn’t blame you, he supposed that in your eyes this guy saved your life from imminent peril. In his eyes, he was just doing something that was common sense. Saving you while you were trapped in that bus was not something he needed to think twice about.

And he certainly didn’t think twice about hugging you, either. Despite you two not really being acquainted with one another. He was quick to come to his senses, about to pull away, but you held on. And he realized you needed this hug as much as he did. He combs his fingers through your hair, as if second nature. Just like he normally did, and he was the only one that ever did that. You didn’t seem to catch on in that state, but little did he know how grateful you were towards him. He could only imagine, but it was a fraction to how you truly felt.

“Thank you, spiderman.” You say with such softness in your voice, he’s never heard it from you before.

And from that point on, he did not stop hearing you gush about the arachnid. While he often laughed this off, he wondered if that meant things would be weird between you two if he told you the truth.

[grimm-writings]

swallow

…ft! sunday x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, spoiler-free, first kiss, a shy sunday practising selfishness

…wc! 823

…notes! i’m obsessed with this nerd and want to give my attempt and writing how i feel he goes about romance (VERY AWKWARDLY). have at thee.

Don’t move.

Do not do anything.  Do not even respond.

It’s the one request Sunday made of you for the moment.  He revealed the fear that he would like to kiss you, but fear of anything unexpected occurring during it throws him off.  You understand; the idea of being vulnerable and under someone’s scrutiny can be extremely nerve wracking.

Thus, this was your solution.  You weren’t to reciprocate, you weren’t to place your hands anywhere, you weren’t to move even a muscle.  Sunday is still slowly coming to terms with being with you, never mind having you as his own.  This is a slow process, and you’re willing to do things at his speed.

Sunday is on his knees, level with you sitting on a chair.  His torso fits between your legs as he apprehensively glances up at you.  You grant him a reassuring smile, and nod at him.

Your eyes flutter shut as the besotted Halovian swallows down his anxieties.

He’s come this far.  It’d be a shame to miss out on you.

Sunday doesn’t dare touch or hold you, at least not yet.  His face approaches yours at a slow speed, as if he himself was slowed down by time.  His lip quivers when your breath fans against his own.

Cautious, Sunday allows himself the will to shut his eyes, lest he cowers and moves away once more.  Xipe help me, he internally scrutinises himself.  He can feel himself shaking.  How pathetic.  If he were more like a prince or some hero from a novel, someone truly worthy of you, he’d have already swept you off your feet.

Yet here he is, frozen stiff at the very idea of touching you.

He knows you’re resisting from encouraging him, reassuring him that it’s okay, he can take his time.  He doesn’t need to hear you to know it.  Your eyes flutter, tempted to open to spare him a glance, make sure he’s okay.

If he’s being quite honest, Sunday feels like he might faint.

Gloved fingers, trembling, push hair away from your face.  Even without looking at you directly, Sunday can imagine where you are, where all your features lay, with such clarity.  Has he memorised you so thoroughly?  He stares more than he thought.

His palm rests on your cheek.  For a moment, he wonders what it’d be like if it were skin-on-skin contact.  His hands, he doesn’t think they’re worthy of holding you so honestly, so purely.  This barrier of fabric is for both of your own sakes.  Sunday isn’t sure if he could bear the thought of being so intimate.

In his mind, he can hear Robin’s laughter– asking in disbelief if he truly is that timid.

It’s as clear as a glass cage, Sunday is utterly hopeless in your presence.

He doesn’t wish harm unto you, and considering his position, that’s a very likely thing.  You are the glass, reflecting back at him.  Shining, gleaming with a light Sunday vies for so ardently.

Your warm breath is like the sun wishing him nothing but pleasure for the hours to come.  He can imagine you withholding the temptation to smile, feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks against your own.

He’s weak.

He’s completely weak for you.

Lips brush against yours, at long last, and Sunday hesitates.  He’s so close, and he still finds himself freezing up again.  How long has it been?  Seconds?  Minutes?  The desire to be so meticulous about a mere kiss…  Losing that sense of control would mean disaster for dear Sunday.

It’s mind-boggling to him how perfectly his lips slot onto yours.  With precision, (practised?  Did he rehearse all this on a pillow or something?  Perish the thought!)  Sunday presses his mouth against your own.

As promised, you don’t move.

You do not do anything.  You do not even respond.

Chaste, pure, controlled.  Sunday has kissed you, as arduous and nail-biting the whole proceeding was.  He pulls away after exactly three seconds, you count, and your eyes flutter open to see him, at the most vulnerable he’s willing to be right now.

You can’t help but smile, resisting the urge to giggle right in Sunday’s face.

“Aeons, you look so stressed!”  You note.  You rub your hand over his clothed arm, that hovers awkwardly in the air after you moved away from where he was holding you.  “With that red face of yours, you nearly look like a swallow!”

Sunday avoids eye contact for now, merely humming a nervous laugh.  “I just… hope it was to your standard. You deserve it.”

You had to hold back all urges you had just to throw your arms around your love and kiss him all over.  Boundaries are there for a reason.  You take his tense hand in yours and squeeze it, bringing it to your chest, just over your heart.

“It was perfect.”

Sunday smiles, golden irises finally daring to meet yours.  “Yes.  I concur.”