#the utter emotions i felt both while reading this and responding to it

[archoniic]

They seemed to come from all direction: the mountains to the South, the sea to the East, the ruins of the Guili Assembly to the North, Mt. Tianheng to the West, and every inch of life far beyond each corner of Teyvat— each speck of ash, of chalk, of dust. It was as if all were called to an instinct ever innate, beckoned by some maker only they knew, and ached to see return. And so this night, beneath the poignant glow of the moon ever full, when the night surrounding her drew darker than it had in aeons of time, they gathered into a zephyr atop the cliff that left the lone presence of its lily untouched as if by divine intervention itself. They seemed enraptured within this gust almost as gentle as she, or so the oft unread tales of legends could recount to the children of the harbor. But here, within that embrace, one could swear for even a moment in time, that the moon overhead seemed to dim, a luminosity stolen for a second in which the space that each grain inhabited lightened, brightened, or...

Perhaps it was what seemed to form within that held the sudden vigor of the moon almost more comfortably, or perhaps it was the shadow therein that craved the light such a celestial body held so very carelessly— or perhaps, it wasn't a shadow at all, at least no longer. A shadow hardly bore the detail of garments of white and blue long forgotten by days of present, a shadow hardly bore the tone of pale skin illuminated from within and overhead alike, a shadow hardly held any competence to feel the air within human lungs, or the trivial need to breathe. And yet she, closer to any corporeal form than any spirit could ever long to possess, before bare feet ever touched the blades of grass beneath them— craved it,longed to breathe in the same air that caressed the bare of her back and the palms of her hands as they lifted at her scrutiny. She could feel it, as clear as she remembered it too long ago. And as the light within and around her lessened to merely the tips of grey tresses, and as her toes finally felt the crunch of green tickle— the specks of dust seemed to have gone, or perhaps they were still there, for were she and they not one and the same? She had stolen it, selfishly, the light of the moon whose signature she wore; for it surely illuminated her now as kindly as it ever had, if not more so. If one were close enough to listen, to overhear, then perhaps the smile that formed too slowly in wonderment could be heard; as if a secret kept from humanity forevermore. She had missed all of it; this sensation, the air within her lungs, the gentle touch of a breeze to her cheeks.

And then, as the night that blanketed the harbor that remained behind and away from her still regained its peace and the breeze around her settled to stillness, when her gaze finally drew up in gesture so intrinsic— it all faltered to unimportance in an instant. There was no breath, nothing after it had caught in her chest at the sight of him, the real sight of him. She'd moved so barely on instinct in response before she halted almost immediately, as if any approach of him was a right that had long since been lost, a right taken from her tar too soon in the ages that had passed them. And yet, and yet, her hand craved and longed, and her fingertips physically ached to touch him, to touch him before any and all else.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 bittersweet memories for the Lord of Geo. Each year; as though taunting him from afar, the moon would cast its effervescent glow upon him. Hidden from the view of the mortals; his sleeves rolled to the elbows. Golden marks burning ever brighter where the silvery glow would touch; much the same as the caress of someone once so dear to him. Lost now; a memory locked deep within his heart. Unspoken, yet remembered. Eyes of amber would close, and her laugh would chime much like a bell; he could almost recall the scent from the field of lilies that she loved so dearly. For once every year, he would allow himself that one night of reflection. That one night to truly feel the weight of all he had lost. Adding yet another fresh crack into the stone that had long since been his heart. Such feelings were not one he could put into words, nor truly understand himself. All he could do was experience. For every crack that was added to his heart, his soul; his life. It took him one step closer to her. He welcomed it like an old friend; familiar in the most devastating of ways. For one with a memory as long and clear as his, those feelings of despair were as prevalent now as they always had been. 

This year, the Moon's glow did not seem quite as bright; its touch did not warm his skin in the ways it had done each year before. It was different.  Zhongli; much the same as he did year upon year, found himself making the same trip up the cliff which overlooked the harbour. Where a single lily prevailed above all the others. Strong, fierce, determined. It should not have been able to survive there the way it did. Yet it blossomed perfectly. Footsteps stilled on the path upwards; amber gaze falling to the very tip. What is that? Misplaced, a shadow. One that moved in such a way as should not be possible to be simply cast by the glow of the moon. It took him too long to realise truly what it was he was looking at. It was not a shadow at all. 

But dust.

It felt as though everything stilled; no longer did he hear the sounds from the harbour or the rustle of the trees. No longer did he hear the footsteps on the path travelled. All he could hear was his heartbeat, echoing much too loud in his ears. For the first time he could remember; his footsteps faltered. A single misstep had the Lord of Geo almost tumble. Too consumed by thoughts he should not allow; for hope of that nature, what was within his heart was much too foolish. Yet the swirl of the dust was simply unnatural for it to be simply guided by the breeze. 

One step, then another; chasing what was likely to be the single most foolish desire of his heart. Eyes never once dared to leave the gathering of dust. Watching as each grain seemed to steal the very moonlight itself; shining, as though mocking him. Yet this could not be simply another memory conjured by his mind. For as much as he had perfect clarity; he could not envision something that had never happened. 

Whatever this may be; it was real.

Reaching the top took far too long; his steps were heavy, weighed down almost. The cracks in his heart almost became too large to bear. As he reached his destination; the dust had shifted, giving life to a form he thought he would never gaze upon again. Fabrics of blue and white and silver; the galaxy itself hidden within the sleeves. While not tangible in her entirety; the vision of her was unmistakable. Yet with every passing second; that vision grew more visible. He could barely catch his breath as he took in every moment; each swirl of the dust, each glance of the moonlight illuminating her skin; and as she turned to face him. The smile he remembered oh so clearly. The Lord of Geo was no longer made of stone. 

He cracked apart, completely. As though she, herself was the hammer and him; weatherworn and beaten, finally succumbed to those splinters he had long since tried to hide.

He attempted to reach her; as she did him, but no longer would his legs support him. The once mighty Rex Lapis, Morax; was brought to his knees in front of his Goddess. How long had it been since he had shed a tear for anything? Never once, in thousands of years; even upon her death, he had reacted with anger. Then with sheer focus on their people and realising her dream for both the mortals and the land. Now, with nothing more to truly focus on; no great battle to be fought, the mortals no longer needed their Archon. But he needed her. Perhaps a thought of his that he had not truly considered in all of those years. For while he walked on; her memory was always close. Those tears fell silently, his gaze never once wavering from her; in fear of her disappearing from his view once again. 

"Are you truly real?" A voice of a man that had held in too much, for much too long. Disbelief; confusion. Hope. 

This was not a memory that he could have conjured from his imagination, never before had she appeared for him in such a way. Each time; it had simply been a memory of her in a way that had already transpired. This was new. Each emotion he had tried to bury almost had the man break at the seams; for a while, he had convinced himself that he had forgiven himself for the past. It became entirely obvious at that moment that he simply had not. How could he when he felt he had let her down in the worst way possible? Had he not promised to protect them? Their land, their people; her? Morax, Rex Lapis, had failed in that; and in doing so, had lost her to the dust. 

Yet; she stood before him now, as real as she had been back then. Forcing himself to his feet, he ventured closer; a hand reaching out, met with the solidity of her. He made a sound that could only be described as human. A half huff of disbelief, yet entirely happy. That hand would travel up her arm, brushing along to her shoulder and her neck. He remembered this, how her skin felt. Warmer now, bathed in the glow of the moon. How many emotions passed along his face? It mattered not to him. She was real. He could touch her. He could see her. She was not a memory any longer. Palm would settle against her cheek, his thumb tracing along gently as he had done countless times before; another lifetime ago. 

[bodythiefsblog]

Beyond the Reflection

Javier and Mateo had always shared a special connection. From the moment they met in that café, they felt they were meant to be together. But something deeply troubled them: how society viewed them and how they perceived themselves. Both were slender and felt insecure in their bodies; they wished to be stronger and more muscular, not just to feel better about themselves but also to protect their relationship from the critical gaze of the outside world.

One day, while strolling through an old neighborhood, they stumbled upon an esoteric shop that seemed out of time. In the window, a sign read: "We fulfill your deepest desires." Intrigued, they entered the dimly lit establishment, which was filled with antique mirrors and mysterious objects.

An old woman with eyes as dark as the night greeted them. "I know what you want," she said before they could utter a word. "You want different bodies, stronger, more powerful."

Javier and Mateo, holding hands, looked at each other and nodded. They were willing to pay any price to be together without the insecurities that haunted them.

The old woman led them to a room where two large golden mirrors hung on the wall. "These mirrors do more than reflect your desires," she explained, "they allow you to take the bodies of those who embody that desire. But you must be sure because this change is irreversible."

In their minds appeared two muscular men they often saw at the neighborhood gym. One of them was Gabriel, a 27 year old man who had dedicated his life to the gym, making it his sole occupation and passion. Standing tall with a muscular build, his physique was the result of years of relentless training and discipline. Gabriel spent hours each day lifting weights, perfecting his form, and pushing his limits. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out; it was his sanctuary, the one place where he felt in control and at peace.

The other man was Armando, a 30 year old successful personal trainer and nutritionist, known for his charisma and his ability to inspire others to reach their goals. Armando came from a humble background and had worked hard to build his reputation in the fitness world. However, behind his bright smile and seemingly perfect life, he hid a deep loneliness. He had dedicated so much time to his career that he had neglected his personal life, and although he was admired by many, he had no one to share his successes with.

The mirrors began to glow, and in an instant, Javier and Mateo felt a strange pull inside them. When they opened their eyes, they were no longer in the shop but in the bodies of Gabriel and Armando.

Javier, now Gabriel, suddenly felt much stronger, and immediately began to admire his body: his abs, his perfect pecs and a pair of big buttocks ready to receive his boyfriend's cock.

He immediately put Gabriel's things (his things) in his backpack and took a photo, sending it to his boyfriend's old Instagram profile.

"Look at the ass you're going to be playing with tonight."

Meanwhile, Mateo opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of a routine in Armando's body. There were people around him who noticed something strange in his attitude.

"Are you okay?" one of them said.

"Yes, bro." Mateo pretended, knowing that was exactly how Armando would speak.

Immediately, the new Armando ran to the locker room, where he logged into his Instagram account and read the message from "Gabriel." Full of emotion, he lifted his shirt and took a photo. Responding: "I can't wait."

After two weeks (and a phase of rough gay sex every night), Gabriel and Armando came out to their girlfriends and families and declared themselves a couple. It was especially fun to go to the mall to find some clothes that actually fit their "new selves."

Their new bodies were strong, powerful, exactly as they had imagined.

[st-dorothy-minority]

"Hurt" - an emotional, angst-filled Radioapple fic

I greatly hesitate to post this. It is very, very special to me and feels more vulnerable than anything I've written. (And honestly, I may delete it at any point 😩)

I would love it if you could spare a comment if you read this and share your thoughts.

I wasn't going to finish this, but I've been seriously struggling this month myself, and it's one small thing I can contribute for Suic*de Awareness & Prevention month.

Based on the song "Hurt" by Christina Aguilera (please check that out before reading to get the full impact. Imagine the song sung by Charlie https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/christinaaguilera/hurt.html)

Dedicated to @persephoneblck - thank you for your love and support through my struggles ❤️

-----------

“Charlie, I-”

“Just don't! I can't do this anymore! For once, I wish you'd show up when others need you, when I need you!”

“But Charlie-”

“Mom was right. You don't know how to be a husband. You don't know how to be a leader. And you sure as hell don't know how to be a dad! I won't ever ask for anything from you ever again. I don't want you in my life anymore!”

As she turned her back on her father and returned to what remained of the hotel with the other residents, Lucifer felt himself quickly losing composure. Still, he made one last attempt to talk to her by calling out, “I’m proud of you, Charlie!” When she didn’t turn around, he lowered his gaze to the ground and added sorrowfully, “More than you could ever know.”

****

It was a couple hours before Alastor was able to check on his emotionally wrecked lover.

It was no surprise he found Lucifer still in the throes of depressive anguish.

Taking a seat on the floor where Lucifer sat next to the bed, Alastor placed a consoling hand on his back and rubbed it affectionately.

“We both know she didn’t mean what she said,” Alastor assured.

A few tears splashed onto the glass of the picture frame Lucifer held in his hands, which housed a photo of himself and Charlie that Vaggie had taken not long ago.

“She gets into fits of passion, like you, and ends up saying things that aren’t true,” Alastor continued when it was clear Lucifer wasn’t going to respond.

After a minute passed with more silence, Alastor gently pulled the picture away, set it aside, and took Lucifer’s now restless fingers in his hands to hold.

“Luci….No one is perfect. Mistakes happen. Hurt feelings happen. It’s a consequence of the human heart that seems to remain in us demons, including Charlie. She’s still a child with much to learn. You are doing a much better job than you give yourself credit for. Give yourselves some time to be apart for a bit. There is nothing wrong with maintaining some distance for a little while as she cools her head.”

Lucifer sniffled, wiped his eyes, and uttered pitifully, “But she’s right. All of it. I was never there when she needed me. I fucked up with Lilith….I’m a shitty, fucking failure, Alastor.”

“Now I absolutely have to disagree with you about all of that. You are trying. You are learning. You won’t get it right all the time. Let the past be the past with its wrongdoings. She’ll have to learn to do the same.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Lucifer nodded. “Yeah….I guess you’re right….Thank you.”

“Of course.” He brought Lucifer closer, placed a soft kiss against his temple, and asked, “Care to lie down? You should rest.”

“Not yet. Think I might go take a bath and try to relax.”

“Want me to join you?”

“No, I, um....I think I want to be alone tonight.”

“Are you sure?” “Yeah. Plus, you should go back to check on everyone and help with whatever they need….since she doesn’t want my help….”

“Alright then. I’ll report back tomorrow with how things are and to check on you.”

Placing a finger under Lucifer’s chin, he tilted the devil’s head up to kiss him tenderly. When they pulled away, he was content to see Lucifer smiling.

“I missed that smile,” Alastor purred, causing Lucifer to giggle.

“Funny that you never give me the chance to miss yours.”

“If it’s any consolation, you certainly bear witness to my genuine ones more than any other demon in this Hell.”

“I’ll take that,” Lucifer conceded happily.

Doting one last kiss onto Lucifer’s hand, Alastor took his leave.

****

----Five Years Later----

Clutching her phone tightly in her grasp, Charlie blinked through the tears to find the most precious contact in her list. From the moment she saw the adorable duckie profile pic and the name, the relatively quiet crying became uncontrollable sobbing.

It was approaching mid-evening, and it was tradition to conclude the horribly painful day with a call to the person she missed more than anything. The person she longed to hug again. The person she yearned to see his smiling face again.

The person she owed everything to, the one she wished to apologize over and over again to.

The one who had taken his life because of her.

It was rare that a day passed when Charlie didn’t replay the last exchange she’d had with her father and felt her stomach twist into knots and the guilt consume her from realizing how cruel and heartless her final words to him had been. To have not even acknowledged his final words to her of how proud he was of her.

Attempting to take several deep breaths, she at last touched the screen to call her dad.

She knew he would never answer, yet his voicemail (and the messages he’d left on her phone that she hadn’t deleted) was the only way to hear his voice, even if it was brief and impersonal.

Hello fellow citizen of Hell! You’ve reached the head honcho himself, Lucifer Morningstar. If you aren’t in my contacts, how the fuck did you get my number? If you are, I’ll call you back at some point. If this is Charlie, I’ll get right back to you, sweetie! If this is an emergency, well, I don’t know what to tell you other than you’re probably S.O.L. Still wanna leave a message? Be my guest!

*beep*

“….Hi dad,” Charlie began in a tiny, constricted voice. She paused briefly due to the uneven breaths attacking her, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply as best she could, and tried again. “I um….I miss you….so much. I’m so sorry for what I said and blaming you. I didn’t mean it….I was wrong….so, so wrong…..I wish you were here….I still have so many questions and….I need you….I need you, dad….I was mad, I didn’t mean it….I love you and I just want you back. I want to understand. I love you….”

She was able to end the call before the phone slipped from her hand and she hugged herself as the crushing grief overtook her.

I wish you were here….I need a hug….I’m so sorry….

She felt the presence of her new company before he even sat next to her. On the balcony of the hotel overlooking her inherited kingdom, Alastor joined her on the bench without a word. This had also become their tradition – to share the remainder of the evening together in silence with the only other person who understood more than anyone else how suffocating the loss felt. They each had very different relationships with Lucifer, but the fact remained they each loved him beyond measure.

While Charlie’s regret plagued her in the form of her last words to Lucifer, Alastor’s was rooted in having left him alone that night. If only he’d insisted on staying, denied Lucifer’s request, and remained at his side. The memory of finding the king of Hell submerged in golden-tainted water in the bathtub, his wrists and neck sliced open to the bone by the only weapon in the realm that could mortally wound him, haunted Alastor just as vividly all these years later. He could still recall Charlie’s screams of denial and sorrow when he told her what had happened, remembered how she grabbed onto him as her knees gave out and they held each other for nearly an hour, drowning out everything and everyone around them.

Once Charlie regained her composure for the most part, Alastor eased his arm across her shoulders and drew her closer to rest against him in a loving embrace. His other hand took hers and held it, and they stayed this way for hours.

Eventually, Vaggie came to help Alastor escort Charlie to bed, which Alastor appreciated because he knew Charlie would continue to be cared for during the hardest night of the year.

As for him, it was the one night he returned to Lucifer’s home and laid in the bed he’d shared with the fallen angel. He fetched Lucifer’s favorite over-sized duckie plushie to cuddle with – the one he’d always teased his lover about whenever Lucifer chose to hug it at bedtime – and breathed in deeply. The scent was fading, but it was enough to revitalize the memory.

Letting the tears fall at last, Alastor whispered, “I’m sorry I left you when you needed me most. I love you.”

[writingsforwhatever]

Part 2: Love letters to Matthew (m.s.)

Part 1

Please read the author's note in part 1!

Anyway, enjoy.

Her world seemed to halt as Matt's confession hung in the air. Shock rippled through her, rendering her momentarily speechless. It was a revelation she had never anticipated, and it left her grappling for words.

"Matt," she finally managed to utter, her voice quivering. "I... I don't know what to say."

Matt's gaze remained fixed on her. He wore an expression of vulnerability that was entirely new to her. The weight of his confession bore down on her shoulders, and she could feel her own emotions swelling within her. She had spent years wondering about his feelings, longing for some indication that he shared her sentiments. And now, in this unexpected moment, he had laid bare his heart.

Her voice quivering, with tears already forming in her eyes. "I never knew," she spoke softly, breaking the silence again. "I never knew you felt this way."

The unfairness of the situation overwhelmed her. How could he do this, especially when she had already found a home in another person's arms? It just didn't seem fair. Unfairness and dissatisfaction had always seemed to define her relationship with Matt. It had never been enough.

Seeing him in pain like this, knowing that she had felt the same way for so long, tore at her heart. All those years of hurt, of watching him leave and return, had led up to this very moment. Yet, inexplicably, it still felt like it wasn't enough for either of them.

Matt responded, his tone filled with frustration, "Forget it, it doesn't matter. I'll get over it. I just can't be near you right now; I can't even look at you. It hurts too much. Please, just go."

"Matt, don't do this. Please, just hear me out first." She tried to hold back her emotions, but the tears were already falling. However, he was already on his way to the living room, walking away from her.

He turned around once more, his expression marked by a deep frown. "What could you possibly say? You're going to Europe for two and a half months with Luke! Spare me your pity. I don't need it. Please, leave. Just leave me alone." Matt's words were filled with a mix of pain and exasperation, as he struggled to cope with the situation. Unable to bear the weight of the emotions any longer, she ran past him and out of the house, tears streaming down her face. Matt heard the front door slam shut, and he could hear Chris and Nick calling her name.

~

Europe was different from any place she'd ever been, olive groves stretched out before her, their silvery leaves shimmering in the sunlight. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, adding to the idyllic atmosphere yet her thoughts often wander off to the boy who was thousands of miles away from her.

Matthew is in love with her. This in fact didn't make things better as much as she thought it would. For years, she had secretly yearned to hear those three little words spill from his lips, believing that it would bring clarity, but it only added a layer of complexity to their relationship.

Matt’s confession had been long-awaited, but she couldn't help but think and feel that distance and time had definitely changed things; he lived on one coast, she was in college meeting new people on the other. No matter how hard she tried, he was drifting away. His love arrived too late. Matt needed to accept this, just as she had quietly done over the years.

She has Luke now. Luke, who loves and cares for her deeply. Their love is quiet and simple but it's sure. Unlike her relationship with Matt, which always felt intricately complicated, Luke's love was a beacon of simplicity and warmth.

The night Matt confessed his feelings, she cried under her covers while Luke, slept soundly beside her, oblivious to the emotional storm that had raged within her. It wasn't how she imagined their friendship would end, but it was inevitable.

Someone always gets hurt.

She knows this.

And it's both of them.

When Luke asked about the stains on her cheeks when she got home, she brushed him off, saying she was emotional about leaving her parents and friends for a few months. As they landed in New York, Luke remained unaware of her hidden sadness and when the plane took off for France, Luke held her hand firmly. Below them, the vibrant city lights of New York City shone brightly, yet her thoughts remained to the boy back in Boston.

She watched Luke's friends, Fiona and Andrew, their laughter echoing in the warm air. The warmth of the sun making everyone's cheeks pink, but her mind was still elsewhere. His words that day lingered like shadows in the sun's gentle glow, reminding her that their friendship could end for good.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked, taking a seat beside her with a freshly made mango shake in hand.

She offered a small smile in response. "Yeah, just feeling a bit homesick. I can't wait to get back home."

Luke returned her smile. "I get it. Home is home, but I'll miss this place for sure. Italy is amazing."

"It really is," she said, her eyes drifting over the scenery in front of them.

Luke shifted the conversation. "Have you talked to your parents yet?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they're doing well. My dad mentioned that Haley has a crush on our neighbor, Josh," she shared, rolling her eyes playfully and letting out a chuckle.

Luke almost choked on his drink, chuckling too. "Oh boy, Josh better watch out."

She nodded, acknowledging that her little sister could be quite a handful at times, but she loved her, nonetheless.

Luke's curiosity turned to her friends. "What about your friends? Chris and his brothers? How are they?"

Her thoughts briefly wandered to a recent text from Alahna. "Alahna visited them in L.A. 2 days ago."

Luke, unaware of her feelings of not wanting to talk about them, continued the conversation. "Nice. How are they?"

"Who?" she asked, momentarily confused, her gaze shifting to the side.

"Chris, Nick, and Matt?" Luke clarified, his eyes lingering on her profile to gauge her reactions. "And Alahna?"

"They're doing great," she replied. "Alahna mentioned they're planning to take her to Beverly Hills before she heads back to Boston."

Luke nodded in understanding. Sensing her desire to change the subject. "You want to swim later?"

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she replied, "Absolutely! Let's do it." Grateful for the subject change she pushed the Matt thoughts in the back of her head.

~

"You suck at cooking eggs, Alahna." Chris teased, a playful tone in his voice. It was the first week of September 2023, and the late morning sunlight of Los Angeles shone through the kitchen, making the room bright and warm.

"It's not my fault that you scared me. I thought you'd be up later." Alahna defended, grinning.

"I couldn't sleep anymore; you woke me up with all your ruckus here." Chris said lightheartedly. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up Matt over there."

Alahna set up the plates for her and Chris, the newly cooked eggs now a little bit saggy and one slightly burnt. "You know he was up all night?" she whispered, a hint of concern in her voice.

"He was?" Chris asked, sitting down.

"Yeah, I came downstairs to grab a glass of water, and apparently, he saw Luke's post on Snapchat."

"How did you know?"

"He was sitting here. I could see his phone. I recognized that picture because I saw it too just minutes before."

"The... him and?" Chris trailed off, understanding dawning on him. It was a photo of Luke and her kissing at the pool. A sweet, innocent kiss, but it was enough to shatter Matt's heart into pieces.

Alahna sat down and looked Chris in the eyes. "Chris, I forgot to tell you, but remember the time Matt had a girlfriend?"

Chris's eyes locked onto Alahna's, urging her to continue. He remembered those days with the girl from Florida.

"Well, about a month after, I think? I forgot exactly when. It was a long time ago. But Chloe and I met with her, and she admitted that she has been in love with Matt for years. We told her we already knew—" Alahna chuckled, and Chris nodded in agreement.

"What?" Matt's voice echoed from the wall beside his bedroom doorway, leaving Chris and Alahna exchanging shocked expressions.

Matt's voice hung in the air. "Matt," Chris began cautiously, stepping closer to him, "we didn't mean for you to hear that. It's just that Alahna and I were talking, and..."

Matt interrupted, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and pain, "She said that?"

Alahna nodded solemnly, her concern deepening. "Yes, Matt."

Matt's expression tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "How long have you known, Chris?"

Chris sighed sadly, choosing his words carefully. "She didn't admit it to me, but I've always known, you know? Bro, anyone could see it in her face. She's always been about you. For years."

Matt turned away; frustration evident as he ran his hand through his messy hair while he processed what he had just heard. "I can't believe this… I was so blind, and now it's too late," he muttered.

Alahna stood up and walked over to Matt, her voice gentle. "Matt, I'm really sorry you had to find out this way. It wasn't our place to tell you because we know how much it would mean coming from her. She loves you a lot. I hope you know that."

Matt stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought. It all started to make sense now—the times she turned away or seemed distant when he had a girlfriend back in 9th grade, the fake smiles she wore when he talked about his high school crushes. He felt incredibly stupid, realizing that Nick had been right all along. He was beginning to think he was the most oblivious person on the planet, especially remembering how she had gotten sad when he didn't mention having a girlfriend from Florida. He had misinterpreted her feelings as mere sensitivity.

She had been in love with him for years, and he had been too oblivious to see it. And now, she's with someone else.

"What are you gonna do?" Chris asked, his eyes filled with sympathy as he observed his brother processing the revelation.

Matt sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know, Chris," he admitted, uncertainty clouding his thoughts.

"He's not going to do anything, Chris," Nick chimed in, his voice carrying the grogginess of just waking up. His tousled hair and half-asleep appearance drew everyone's attention.

"Nick," Alahna cautioned, her tone barely above a whisper.

Nick shrugged, unfiltered as ever. "What? Matt had his chance, and he missed it. She's happy now. Why would he want to ruin that for her?" he bluntly stated, embodying the frank and opinionated brother he had always been.

Chris, torn between his desire to see them together and the undeniable truth in Nick's words, couldn't help but nod in agreement. Matt had indeed let his opportunity slip away long ago, and now he had to face the consequences of it.

Matt sat down and lowered his head, absorbing his brother's words like a heavy truth he couldn't deny. The weight of missed chances and regret hung in the air.

Alahna exchanged a meaningful glance with Nick, understanding his perspective, even if it stung.

As the morning light crept into the room, the silence continued.

Nick sighed deeply, closing his eyes as to calm himself. This time he spoke with gentleness in his tone, "Look, Matt. I'm not trying to be negative or anything... But I've seen her get hurt over and over again by you. I just- She's with Luke. It would be unfair."

Nick’s straightforwardness, as abrasive as it might have sounded, held an undeniable truth. He was the voice of reason in the room. His message was clear: it would not be fair to all of them.

Matt grumbled, his hands pressing against his forehead in frustration. "I had no idea she loved me, Nick," he admitted with frustration.

Nick looked at him with a sad expression. "We know, and funnily, even your ex could see it," he said softly.

Matt let out a deep sigh remembering the fight he and his ex-girlfriend had when he admitted that he kissed his best friend. "If she's happy, then I'm happy. It's okay. I'll be okay." He stood up, trying to put on a brave face.

The three of them shared knowing looks, aware of the emotions in the room. Chris decided to bring up a painful topic. "Matt, you also need to apologize for what happened back home when you told her to leave."

Matt's cheerful demeanor faltered briefly. "I'll apologize when she gets back from Europe," he replied, not wanting to dwell on the day she had left his house, when he had wanted to chase after her but didn't. He had spent nights crying and regretting what he did, ignoring Chris and Nick's knocks on his door.

As Matt walked toward his room, he added, "I'm going to be okay. Trust me."

Understanding that Matt was only lying to himself, they let it go.

‘Be there in 10 😊 see ya’

She looked at Matt’s text for a few seconds before sighing, a heavy sadness enveloping her. It's the first day of Senior year the final chapter of high school, and here she was, trying to mend her broken heart.

"Are you okay, honey?" Her mother's green eyes full of concern. Beside her mom is Haley's school clothes all folded neatly ready to be worn.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just not feeling like going to school, that's all," she replied, her gaze fixed on her worn-out Converse.

"Why? Talk to me about it," her mother urged, taking a seat beside her. "Is it about your subjects? Your teachers?"

She sighed again, glancing at the time on her phone. "It's Matt."

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows, clearly lost and confused. "Matt? Did you guys have a fight?"

Since when had Matthew upset her daughter?

"No, Mom. We didn't fight," she replied, impatient. She kept looking out the window, feeling nervous.

"Then why..."

"It's just..." She paused, aware of the curious looks her mom is giving her. "He has a girlfriend, Emily, and she's been with us all summer. He said it's not serious, but I don't know. I don't know why I'm feeling like this." Her shoulders slumped at the little confession, but her mother knew.

Matt was a constant presence in her daughter's life, just as much as his own brothers. They grew up together, celebrated Christmases, birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Halloween — every occasion imaginable.

Her mother, Elizabeth always had a hunch, but she believed they were probably too young to comprehend or understand.

As for Matt, he was bound to break a few hearts, even though Elizabeth hoped her daughter wouldn't be one of them, yet she understood that it was inevitable. Her daughter and the blue-eyed boy were as thick as thieves. They were inseparable. And so now that she has confessed without really saying it, she knew.

And she just hopes the fall wouldn't be too high and prays that she'll find the strength to weather the heartbreak that comes with it.

"Why? What are you feeling?" She asked gently, hoping but not pushing her to open up.

"I don't know. I'm confused and I'm hurt. I'm hurt that he has a girlfriend," she said with a sad smile.

Bingo.

"Oh, honey." Elizabeth enveloped her into a hug, soothingly rubbing her back. "How long have you been feeling this way?"

"Months."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"Of course not," she replied, standing up and shaking her head. "I'd never. He's going to want to not be friends with me, Mom. I know Matt."

"If it's bothering you so much, just try. I'm sure he'll understand, sweetheart." Her mom stood up too, trying to catch her eyes. "This is Matt we're talking about, aren't we? He cares about you. He'll unders-"

"No, no way!" She argued, already walking towards the front door. "Just forget I said this, mom. I'll get over it."

Elizabeth could only watch her daughter walk away before she could say goodbye, anxiously waiting for the familiar car that had been arriving at their house like clockwork ever since Matt had learned to drive.

Chris runs down the stairs at 7 am in the morning. "Matt, let's go we're gonna be late."

Nick was already in the car, grumbling. "What took you so long? And who are you texting?"

Matt rolled his eyes, inserting the key into the ignition and starting the car. "Can you shut your mouth Nick? It's too early for you to be talking this loud."

It was clear that Matt's feeling anxious by going back to school again. People just never made sense to him, especially people from high school. He hated it. Hated them.

As they made a stop to pick up Alahna and Emily, the road is still slightly damp from last night's rain. Gradually, a sense of realization began to dawn upon Matt - It was their finaly year in high school, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for it.

Meanwhile, she watched as Matt's car approached her driveway. She couldn't deny the sinking feeling in her chest as she saw Emily sitting in the back with Alahna. Of course, she's here. As the car pulled up, she took a deep breath and mirrored Nick's cheerful laughing smile and mood.

"Hey youuuu." Nick teased as she climbed to sit beside him. "Missed you."

"You literally just saw me last week, Nick." She chuckled, glancing at Matt from the corner of her eyes, not fully acknowledging him. "Hi Chris."

"Hi bestie, long time no see." Chris turned his whole body to look and flash a playful smile at her.

"Shut up."

She exchanged waves with Emily and Alahna. From the driver's seat, Matt felt a sense of confusion wash over him. He couldn't help but wonder why she didn't even greet him.

In November 2023, she saw Matthew again.

When Chris mentioned that they were coming home back in October, she remained resolute in her decision to remain confined within her school dorm. She didn't want to meet them and see Matt. Just the thought of last June, when he confessed his love right before she left for Europe with Luke, still haunted her.

She sometimes wonders if he did it because he was being mean, or he just doesn't want to see her happy. Cause why now? Why now that she has already found someone that truly loves her?

He was unfair, she thought. The bad timing of his love just broke her heart over again.

The kiss last year, Matt's girlfriend and now this - It was all cruel and she couldn't endure it any longer, especially when she has spent her entire life loving him. She deserved to be happy.

And so, she ignored their texts. She knew she was being a bad friend by not replying. Matt made several attempts to reach out, offering apologies in the weeks following her return from Italy, but she ignored them still. They stopped eventually and she couldn't deny, it made her a little sad.

Her plan to distance herself from Matt and anyone connected to him was successful until Thanksgiving in November arrived.

In all her mother's holiday spirit, Elizabeth had extended yet another invitation to the boys' family for the upcoming occasion after seeing Marylou at the grocery store two weeks ago. This had been their tradition for years as family friends and Elizabeth was completely oblivious to the inner turmoil her daughter had been wrestling within for months.

However, everything changed when she heard Nick's familiar laughter emanating from downstairs, causing her to freeze in her tracks, despite being already halfway down the staircase. She stood there, frozen, her eyes locked with the boy she had painstakingly avoided for the past few months. Matt held her gaze and for a moment, it was like they're the only people in the room. 

One thing stood out - Matt looked different and she couldn't help but notice it. He was clad in a blue flannel shirt and jeans, a combination that remarkably complemented his features. It seemed almost impossible, but the outfit made his blue eyes even bluer. On that chilly Thanksgiving night in Boston, Matthew Sturniolo appeared almost angelic, emitting an air of maturity that was a far cry from the Matt she remembered from their high school days. The years had been kind to him, and her heart ached with the realization of just how much she had missed him even though it had only been a few months. She realized that, deep down, she still cared about him, and it will never change. Matt will always have place in her heart that he owns.

Walking down the stairs, she couldn't help but feel like a girl going to prom, with her date waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Only, in this case, her date was a handsome, blue-eyed boy wearing a pair of New Balance sneakers.

The room’s silence was broken only by the soft murmur of the exchanged how are yous and the pounding of her heart. Chris, ever the mediator, exchanged a quick glance with Nick, and then he cleared his throat, attempting to ease the tension in the room.

She took a deep breath and smiled when he was inches away from her, she couldn’t help but think that this Thanksgiving might be different from all the others, and it had nothing to do with the Roast Chicken with Maple Butter on the table and Chris’s smirk.

As everyone in the room felt the awkwardness, they all retreated to the cozy living room, leaving her and Matt alone. Nick and Chris gave her comforting hugs before following their own parents, Nick shot her a look that said, "We'll discuss this later," while Chris wore a sly grin that she couldn't resist rolling her eyes at. Oh, how she missed them terribly.

Finally, Matt broke the silence, keeping a safe distance from her. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and regret, "It's been too long."

Her throat felt dry, but she managed a small smile in return. "Yeah, it has," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look... good."

She couldn’t believe that after all this time, Matt still had that effect on her.

Matt chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "I could say the same about you," he said, his gaze softening. "Different but still the same you I knew."

The silence after Matt spoke hung in the air, both of them seemingly lost. The other room beside them remained hushed, everyone subtly listening to their conversation.

Before she could respond, Matt cleared his throat, mentally scolding himself for making her uncomfortable with his feelings. "How was Europe?"

"Europe was incredible," she replied, briefly breaking eye contact with him. "It was beautiful."

"I'm sure it was," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The way he said it, so softly, made her glance up at him again only to find him looking at her still. Matt smiled, a hint of resignation in his expression as he nodded and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. It was now his turn to break eye contact. "I'm sure it was," he repeated, the realization dawning on her.

Europe. Matt. Their plan. She cringed.

Just as she was about to say something again, Chris interrupted, his voice carrying a teasing tone, “Hey, you two, hate to break up the reunion, but dinner’s ready.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Alright, Chris, we’re coming,” she replied, grateful for the interruption.

Matt shot his brother a knowing look and smiled.

After the lively dinner, with Matt and Chris by her side, making jokes about missing each other, and her dad sharing a funny memory, the tension faded away quickly and like always, the usual routine after such gatherings – they all gathered in the living room to play different board games. She glanced around, seeing Nick and Justin on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, Chris was engrossed in conversation with both her dad and his, laughter filled the room.

However, even amid the happy ambiance, a sad thought worked its way to her mind – how much longer would these gatherings remain a constant in their lives? They were like a lifeline to her memories of childhood. She could come to terms with not ending up with Matt but the notion that this might never happen again bothered her.

Nick's voice abruptly pulled her from her thoughts. "Matt wants to talk to you," he whispered.

"Huh? Where is he?" She scanned the room, her confusion growing.

Nick couldn't help but chuckle at her bewildered state as he patted her shoulder. "You're zoning out, girl."

"I'm sorry. Where is he, Nick?"

"He's in the car, waiting for you," Nick pointed at the front door.

"What? Why? Is he crazy? It's freezing out!" She hurriedly searched for her coat from the other room, ready to rush out, but Nick stopped her before she could leave. "Just talk to Matt, okay? Sort things out. Be patient with him. You mean a lot to him, and I know you still care. If I'm really wrong and you're not into him anymore, please, just let him down gently."

Speechless, her throat went dry. In the background, she could hear their families talking, soft chatters filling the room with warmth. She met Nick's eyes once more, nodding in understanding. "I love him, Nick."

This time, it was her response that made Nick hug her. "I know."

He eventually released her, "Just be honest with Matt, he can take it."

"And be honest with yourself." Nick added, his gaze gentle but knowing.

It was clear that Nick could see thru her facade. She had never stopped loving Matt, and she couldn't even imagine the day she won't. With a final glance to her friend she had known her whole life, she stepped outside, finding Matt in his phone as he sat inside the car.

"Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you," she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the house. Her furious footsteps reverberated as she chased Matt around, her sock-clad feet making a soft padding sound against the wooden floor. She could already sense Nick's growing frustration and annoyance about what could be causing this commotion on a quiet afternoon.

As she watched Matt's mop of brown hair rushing down the stairs, she couldn't help but burst into laughter at how silly he looked. She knew she couldn't compete with Matt's long strides.

"Matt, I'm dead serious," she called out, following him to the kitchen and towards his brother's room. However, it was too late; he was already halfway to Nick's, his laughter filling the room as he locked the door behind him.

"What the fuck is going on?" Nick stood up, clearly taken aback by the noise. He walked towards his door to unlock it, allowing her to come in.

It had been a warm Saturday afternoon when Matt had invited her to hang out at his house. The day had started off peacefully, with the two of them lying on his bed but then Matt had snatched her phone from her hand after noticing she had been on Snapchat for 10 minutes, giggling.

"Seriously, Matt, this isn't funny. Give me my phone!" Her voice pleading.

Matt chuckled, raising his hand to signal "wait" when Nick made an attempt to snatch the phone from his grasp. His eyes darted over the Snapchat conversation at lightning speed, a glint of mischief in his eyes when he glanced back at her.

"Come on, Matt, give her the phone back," Nick groaned, evidently tired. "What are you even looking at?"

"She has a crush on that football guy, Daniel," Matt chuckled again.

"The senior?" Nick asked, an amused and surprised expression forming as he turned to look at her.

She protested, "No, I don't!" Taking a step closer to Matt, she added, "Give it back, Matt!"

"Just a sec," he hushed her once more, retreating against the wall, eyes fixed on her phone screen. He finally looked back at her, his smile fading. "He asked you out to Homecoming?"

Nick smirked at her. "He did? Oh my goodness."

She sighed, embarrassment washing over her. "Well, I'm not even sure if I'm going."

"Why not? Daniel Thompson is hot." Nick replied.

She blushed, her face turning hot. Once again, Matt shifted his attention from the phone to her, locking eyes with her. He held her gaze and with a shrug, tossed her phone onto Nick's bed. "He's a jerk."

With a groan, she reached for her phone. "Ugh. I hate you so much."

She walked out of the room, leaving the two of them behind.

Matt swiftly followed her to the living room and back upstairs to his room, where they had been hanging out just five minutes earlier. "You never told me you'd been talking to him."

Rolling her eyes, she started going up the stairs. Her back to him. "I don't have to tell you everything, you know."

"So what? Are you guys a thing now?" Matt asked, his brows furrowed. A subtle hint of jealousy in his expression.

She continued walking towards his room, yearning for the comfort of his bed. Ready to be swallowed whole by his comforters. "No, we're not."

With a frown, she turned to face him. "God, you're so annoying, Matt. Why do you care? And he's not a jerk, for your information. You don't even know him."

Upon arriving in Matt's room, he closed the door and watched her climb back into his bed, grabbing her phone. With a dismissive roll of his eyes, he joined her on the bed. "Yes, he is. Oh my God. Did you not hear what he did to Stacy Martin last year?"

"They'd broken up when he did that."

"Whatever, I'm just saying he's not a good guy," he frowned, his eyes fixed on her face.

"What's your issue with Daniel? Can't I have a date? He's the only one who asked me out, you know," she stated matter-of-factly, sounding a bit sad. Matt could see her turn away from him, wounded by her own confession.

"Are you kidding me? I'm sure someone else would. Just not Daniel fucking Thompson, jesus," Matt muttered. He knew he was being unreasonably harsh, but he couldn't fathom why she chose Daniel Thompson as her date. Of all people!

"Enough, Matt. You don't know anything."

"I don't know anything? You don't even know he threw his chips at me in 3rd grade!"

"Oh my God. So this is about what happened in 3rd grade? You guys were 8 years old! Holy crap," she stood up, leaving. "I'm going to Nick's room. You're so annoying."

Matt was left momentarily speechless as he watched her walked out of the room. "I'm just trying to look out for you," he called after her.

Turning around to face him, arms crossed. "You don't have to. I can handle it myself."

"You're my best friend, I just care about you." Matt whispered.

Feeling her heart break at his words, she replied, "If I'm your best friend, then why did you ask Nicole out?"

Matt groaned, pinching his forehead in frustration. "It's not the same. Nicole is different."

A heavy silence enveloped them. She regretted opening this can of worms. Matt had no idea how deeply it had hurt her when she found out that he asked this girl out for homecoming. He could ask anyone, doesn’t matter if it’s not her, just not Nicole, but he still did.

"She hates me, Matt," she shot back, a mixture of anger and frustration on her face.

"No, she doesn't!" Matt whispered loudly, his eyes pleading as he defended.

"Fuck you. I'm leaving."

Matt watched her rush down the stairs, slamming his front door. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Chris came out of his own room, hearing everything.

"Is your girlfriend mad at you again?" he teased.

"Shut up, Chris."

"I told you, Matt. She likes you."

"Shut the fuck up, Chris!”

Meanwhile, Nick watched the exchange from the sidelines, a knowing smile playing on his lips. As the door closed behind Matt, he couldn't help but think that perhaps there was more to their friendship than meets the eye. But he decided to keep that to himself for now and let them figure it out on their own.

As she walked down her steps, thoughts of Luke consumed her. Luke, who was now her ex-boyfriend, remained blissfully oblivious of the ongoing chaos, primarily centered around her and Matt.

When she was about to open the passenger door, she found Matt already extending his arms to open it for her.

"Hey."

"Hi," she replied offering a small smile as she settled into her seat. She watched Matt attentively as he took a moment to collect himself, fully aware that this night could either make or break her. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," Matt whispered, nodding. His fingers restlessly fidgeting.

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I wanted to apologize for last time. What I did was uncalled for. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I'm truly, deeply sorry."

"Matt—"

"Let me finish because if I don't say this now, I'll never get the chance to say it again," he cut her off, lowering his gaze to his knuckles. Slowly, he turned to face her entirely, and she couldn't help but notice the scent of his shampoo and the faint flush on his cheeks and lips from the cold.

"I'm sure you already know where I'm going with this, right?" He asked, his eyes locking onto hers through his lashes. She didn't know if it was the way he's looking at her or the nervous fidgeting of his fingers, but she swore her heart never beat this fast.

"Listen, it all came crashing down on me. All those years of stalling, all this denial. It's like my eyes were closed and when I opened it, you're all I could see. God, this is so weird, but I love you, okay?" Matt rambled and took a deep breath. "You're my best friend and I'm in love with you. How crazy is that? I thought that only happens in movies."

"Matt—"

"And I hate myself for it. I swear I'm not saying this because I'm expecting you to feel the same way. I'll get over this, alright? Just give me time."

"Matt—"

"...because I can't lose you. You mean so much to me. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself—"

She replied with an eye roll, her fingers clutching the collar of his flannel shirt. At that very moment, it was as though the entire world had faded away,

The kiss was a culmination of all the pent-up longing they had held onto. For Matt, this moment had been a year in the making since that unforgettable night in L.A. The soft pressure of their lips meeting perfectly is making her go crazy. He was initially taken aback, but his hands instinctively found their place on her neck. His fingers caressing her cheeks, making her stomach tingly from the warm she's feeling all over her body. She had to break the kiss off to breathe, but Matt pulled her back. "The second time's even better," he whispered to himself causing her to blush.

Matthew Sturniolo, in his awkward nature, didn't know why he was so natural at kissing her and how easy it felt. The kiss was tender and heated, leaving them both breathless. She rested her right hand on his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt.

And then, as if Matt couldn't make her melt any further, he spoke in the softest, most loving voice she had ever heard from him. "Come closer.”

Matt traced her bottom lip, eyes never leaving her parted lips. “You have no idea how much I love you. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I regret kissing you last year because I don’t.”

He kissed her once more, this time with a slow, gentle tenderness that made her feel like she might dissolve into a puddle from the softness of it. “I could never.”

“You’re driving me crazy, Matthew,” she murmured foolishly, her mouth still entwined with his.

With a gentle chuckle, he broke off their kiss and locked his gaze onto her, making her feel a bit shy. "So does this mean you feel the same..."

"Oh my god, Matt." She shook her head, smiling. "I've been waiting for you to say these things since high school."

"Wait, what?"

“You really think I’m not head over heels in love with your dumb fucking ass?” She playfully rolled her eyes, enjoying his reactions.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”

"Matt, first of all, you're incredibly dense and second, even your grandma knows it."

He sighed, remembering the times he had talked with his brothers, even his mom. "Even grammie?!"

She groaned, covering her face. "Maaatttt," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Matt smiled softly, his cheeks matching the blush that was forming on her face. He reached for her hands, intertwining his fingers with her. "For everything. I was so blind..."

Before he could continue, she interrupted him with another kiss, and just as it was about to deepen, she pulled away, whispering and giggling, "Took you long enough."

Matt was the first one through the door, leading the way with her hand tightly held in his. A heartwarming scene unfolded before them as their entire family stood there, all sharing knowing smiles, and watching in hushed anticipation. It was Matt's father who couldn't contain himself any longer and yelled, "Finally!" which was met with a chorus of cheers and clapping.

Chris approached them first with open arms, enveloping Matt in a bear hug and then her, a big grin on his face as he playfully teased, "Fucking finally."

"It's about time!" Her dad chimed in with a whistle. "Woohoo! I knew it!"

Her cheeks turned a shade of pink, and she buried her face in Matt's arms, muttering. "Oh my god, dad."

"aww" and "finally" echoed around them making the atmosphere more joyful than ever.

As Matt held her close, she couldn't help but think about the letters she'd show him later.

On that cold November night in 2023, Matthew Sturniolo officially became hers.

[tekutiger]

(I apologize ahead of time for responding to your very old post with a very rambly post 🙃)

This is probably the most accurate thing I've read that translates to how I behave towards anything, really.

I'm a 5w4 and I was having this conversation with a close friend earlier about how I feel like it's difficult to connect with people because I have this seemingly "complex" personality type. (I don't see it this way but INFJ and e5 are both supposedly classified as this across the internet? 🤷🏻‍♀️)

I phrased it something like, "we have a complexity of layers like an onion and not many people have the patience to deal with it."

All my life I've been told by people "you are intimidating" or "you're intense" or "I wish I would have told you back then I liked you, but I was scared" etc. In short, I have a way of scaring people away. Unknowingly. Unintentionally.

I'm quiet, reserved, and introverted. It's just who I am by nature.

Over time I open up a lot as I get to know a person more and become more comfortable with them. I will talk a lot. I mean a LOT. I will talk your ear off. I will ramble. About a lot of things. Anything and everything. I will info dump. Probably won't be able to get me to shut up but you'll wish you could. (where's that off button again?)

And opinions, truths, facts. I most definitely have those and I'll speak them- honestly and bluntly. But again, only if I'm comfortable with the person or people I'm around. Otherwise, I'm going to be very filtered about what I say to the general public.

I've tried joining multiple fandoms here on Tumblr because "clubs" are where you're supposed to meet people and make friends, right? Those experiences have not ended well. I am positive I have some form of PTSD from it.

For a while I thought things were going really well in the couple that I joined, only to be thrown into this drama pit each time. I barely even opened myself up!

I was simply tossing out a few suggestions here and there, giving some advice here and there. Tried to be a bit myself occasionally, not the recluse I usually am. But the results were an utter disaster and now when I look at communities, fandoms, or groups- all I see are traps where I'll inevitably end up feeling alienated once more or ostracized because I think differently, or because I'm trying to be helpful, or because I am who I am. It's such a cruddy feeling. I don't know why anyone would ever want to "pretend" to be an e5 for "aesthetics".

My entire life has felt like I've been on the outside, looking in. Observing, but not participating. Falling, and trying to overcome. It's a never ending fight and I must always rise to the challenge. Learn to be wiser, think smarter, fortify my mind, not allow my emotions engulf me.

THAT is why when people I am not close with ask for me to explain something to them or challenge my thought process on something, it gets little or no attention. How do I know they're being sincere? What if they're a troll? Are they messing with my head? I'm not interested in keyboard wars, yelling matches or psychological warfare (and I certainly don't feed the trolls). They can go elsewhere with that, it takes too much of my time and energy. I said what I said, and I'll leave it at that. Maybe they'll get it eventually. If not, they're just not on the same mindset as me. I don't know what else to do 🤷🏻‍♀️.

I can't force them to think another way. In my experience, once they've made up their mind on something, it's set in stone. Much of the time, those opinions are influenced by their current emotions. Example being, if they're in a bad mood reading something you posted that day, they're likely going to read it in a negative light, regardless how positive of a note you posted it in. I've seen this happen a multitude of times.

That being said, we all have different ways of comprehending things. We all see things from different perspectives.

There are occasions where I can get the feel that a person's curiosity is genuine and I'll provide help or answers. I've done a fair bit of volunteer/helper work in my life. (Probably stems from the INFJ in me 🤷🏻‍♀️).

I also have no problem with constructive criticism or healthy debates as- if I'm wrong about something, I'd like to know. For the love of God, please tell me, lol. (I'll 100% double back around and recheck the facts later but still 👍🏻)

I love learning. It's something that remains constant and steady when everything else feels uneasy and uncertain. To be able to get lost in things (both old and new) that are endlessly intriguing without the fear of judgment. This is actually what drove me into learning Zen, Taoism, and Stoicism. And it's one of the best decisions I've ever made 🖤🤍☯️ (I still have a long way to go though 😅)

But yeah... sorry for all the rambles. 5w6 are likely the more openly communicative ones, lol *nodnod*

Thoughts on Five's wings -- giving 5w6 some credit

5w6 is the 5 that is going to care about explaining and communicating things accurately and effectively. Getting others to understand provides a safety net by proving their competency, and the prosocial influence of 6 compels a belief that the truth inherently belongs to everyone. There’s no point in completely hoarding it for themselves – if they can get others to understand, they can help them be as discerning as they are.

5w4 will explain it the way they want to, and if you don’t get it, you probably don’t deserve to know – or at the very least, you probably don’t deserve their follow-up. Not as much effort is put toward getting others to understand exactly what they’re saying, and they’re fine being misunderstood by people that they already feel alienated by.

I sometimes see people claim 5w4 for the aesthetic before truly understanding how alienated 5w4 feels. This alienation motivates their contentment with not being understood by what they see as the common mind, the ostracizers, etc. Less “look how unique my takes are,” more a felt resignation that they will never be understood, and embracing the sense of difference that comes from that feeling of alienation by keeping their truths either hidden or protected behind layers of unexplained hypernuance.

5w4′s audience for who they can trust with the truth, in other words, is more discerning. For 5w4 to stick around and meet you on your level is a feat indeed. 5w6, with their audience for the truth broadened by 6, becomes disturbed when others don’t understand what they’re saying, and feels motivated on some level to find a more effective way to translate what they’re trying to communicate.

[frogtanii]

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

*offers you a scroll* I offer a brainrot in which Foul Legacy Childe could revert back to his human form for a limited time a day. Let's say 2 hours in 24 hours. A part of his abyssal curse was staying in his FL form until he had established a close relationship with someone other than his family. But then he met the reader, who is so sweet, considerate and actually cares for him. A part of his humanity has been eroded but through the days he spends with the reader, he's experiencing how it feels like to be human - to be treated as one and not just a monster or a weapon.

He really thought that he would have to be stuck in FL all the time so he absolutely didn't expect it when one morning his mask started to crumble at the edges. It didn't hurt but it alarmed him as the entirety of the mask disintegrated. He yelped and ran to the bathroom - to the mirror. As he ran, he felt his bones rearranging, snapping and making themselves smaller. This part of the transformation was a bit painful. He had been in FL form for a while and it hurt having his bones fold back to fit his human form. Reader could hear his gasps and yelps and starts calling out to him. Facing the mirror, he stares in shock and wonder at his face that he thought he had lost forever - his blue eyes and sharp jaw. You run up the stairs, worried about Childe. He sounded in pain and you wanted to comfort him. Childe hears your footsteps and quickly dashes to meet you. Now instead of talons, he touches your face with calloused fingers, thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. His eyes, which had been a lonely shade of blue before, had a sparkle in them. Gone were the fangs and in place he had normal teeth. He opens his mouth to utter your name. "Y/N." It comes out as a croak and he clears his throat, tries again. This time he succeeds. "Y/N."

Your name rolling off his tongue was a gift. You never thought you'd hear his voice again, not like this.

"A-Ajax? How?" you ask. But your arms come around his neck, where his fluff used to be. He in turn, wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his now human form. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and tilts his head to press a kiss on your cheek.

He explains that he doesn't know how. Since he has gained his form back you decide to stay home and keep an eye on him, support him through the change. You soon find out that his time as a human is limited. It starts with two hours but the more time you spend with him, the longer he can last in his human form. Soon, he is able to spend 4-6 hours with you, accompanying you in your errands. You love both FL Childe and Human Childe. But you're happy that he gets to express himself more now.

What do you think would Childe want to do in his limited human form?

i read this and sat in awe for a solid 5 minutes no that is NOT A JOKE THIS IS AMAZING :DDDD

the first thing Childe would want to do in his human form is just talk with you. it's been so long since he's been able to actually hold a conversation with you... he just wants to listen and respond with words, actual words instead of the chirps and trills of his Foul Legacy form. you love his Abyssal form's sounds with all your heart, but hearing him softly say your name and laugh and hum with you makes you so emotional that you almost cry (which he hurriedly wipes away with his thumbs, now soft and smooth and unable to accidentally claw your eyes out)

next he'd want something very simple- he wants you to hold him. why? because in his Foul Legacy form, he's simply too big for you to get your arms around. he still loves your hugs, but there's something so grounding and comforting about being really, truly held, and now that he's the size of a regular human again you can do just that. Childe practically falls into your open arms, gripping the back of your coat like a lifeline. you can feel the tension seep from his shoulders when you start idly drawing shapes on his back, and you bring his hands to your lips so you can delicately kiss every scar that dots his knuckles.

and i also think he'd really love just. walking around with you??? it's been so long since he's been able to casually walk around the Harbor with you, so he'd be raring and ready to go if you asked him to take a stroll! maybe he'll even get to surprise Zhongli, he's still your mischievous Childe after all- but he has no urge to fight or spill blood now, strangely enough, almost like that desire has been replaced for a simpler need to be close and soft with you. so take him on a walk, please. show him what's changed and what's stayed the same. stay far away from the Fatui and their prying eyes, and enjoy the time you have with Childe in his human form.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[arvinsescape]

Hey could you please write something with reader's ex leaking some private pictures you two took when you were together just because he's jealous of you and tom, so when tom hears about what happened he is so upset that someone could be this low, he's not even jealous, he is just so mad that he could cry

A/N: Thank you for sending this in, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, leaking of nudes (this is never okay, I do not condone this behaviour), talks of bad relationships, mentions of stalking (do not read if you are uncomfortable).

You and Tom had been together for just over a year and a half, it had been amazing, you absolutely adored each other and everyone could see it. There was only one negative in your relationship and that came with your ex.

He was an incredibly jealous human being, awful in every way. You broke things off with him after two years of putting up with his behaviour. You'd not been allowed to have male friends, the relationship you had with the men Tom lived with was strange for you at first, at every turn you expected Tom to get angry about how close you were getting. It never happened, Tom adored the relationship you had with the boys and it was quick to reassure you of that fact when you opened up to him about it.

Unfortunately, although he claimed he wasn't in love with you, he couldn't let you go. He was so jealous when he found out you'd moved on that he started stalking your social medias, leaving comments on your posts which led to you blocking him. Of course, this didn't work, he made new accounts in order to find out what you were doing, leaving nasty comments on posts you made to a point where you simply stopped posting as often.

He was tiring and for a while you worried he'd find you, approach you but he never did. You'd been on edge for a short time after making your relationship with Tom public due to the comments he'd leave on your posts. You wondered whether or not he'd ever get over it, let you go but he seemingly wasn't going to anytime soon. It was tiresome, truly but you'd learned to live with it, you continued to block the accounts he made, Tom personally emailing the social media companies in hopes they could put a stop to him but to no avail.

You travelled with Tom a lot, most of the time unless you had family commitments that kept you homebound. This was due to your job and the way it worked, you never needed to be in an office and you could work from anywhere in the world. Book editing meant you had freedom. It made you feel safe, knowing Tom was never far away and when he was filming you could spend time with one of the boys and it brought a huge comfort to you.

You were back in London, in Tom's shared house after a long stretch in the states, you were happy to be back home, have your home comforts. You had been in and out of sleep for the past hour, your phone buzzing like crazy which had resulted in you turning it off, not ready to face whatever it was so early in the morning. That was all well and good until Tom's phone started half an hour later.

"Tom." You lightly shook him in his sleep and he mumbled incoherently in response. "Tom?" You tried harder.

"Y/N, go back to sleep." He grumbled as he pulled you into his chest as his phone started again. You pushed against his chest and his eyes snapped open.

"Tom your phone." You stated and Tom groaned before rolling over and mindlessly fishing for the device, turning it off as well. "It might be important." You said and he rolled back over to pull you into him.

"I'll deal with it later, it's my week off, it can wait." He mumbled into your neck as he sighed out. It didn't take him long to find sleep again as he held you against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you and making you drift into your own sleep.

You're not sure how long you'd been back asleep before you heard banging on your bedroom door. Tom groaning as he squeezed your body and ignored the knocks, hoping whichever boy it was would go away.

"Tom." Harrison's voice pulled you both from your sleepy state. He sounded worried, not his usual calm and chilled out self as he banged on the door again. "You need to get up." He said frantically.

"Fuck off Harrison, I'm tired." Tom shouted back as you sat up and ran a hand over your face. Tom protesting as you sat against the headboard trying to come to. "Darling, come back." He begged, almost childishly, you were about to respond when Harrison piped up again.

"Tom, mate seriously. Get up, it's important." He tried and Tom groaned again before sitting up next to you. "Right, I'm coming in." Haz shouted before opening your bedroom door, phone in hand and face paler than usual.

"Haz what is so important that we need to get up at," Tom started as he checked his watch. "7:30 in the morning."

"You need to check your phones." He said as he threw his phone in your direction. With furrowed brows you picked it up. "I'm so sorry Y/N/N." He said and Tom was quick to grab his phone, turning it on.

"What do you mean? Haz it's early and I've not woken up yet, what's going on?" Tom asked as you scrolled Haz's phone, quiet as a mouse, face dropping. You flicked though the series of pictures that had made their way to twitter, complete and utter disbelief hitting you.

"Her ex." Harrison said as Tom's phone finished booting up, numerous missed calls from his publicist and twitter notifying him that he was trending. "Y/N/N, are you okay?" Harrison asked as he took in your figure.

"How long have these been up?" You asked, eyes not leaving his phone.

"I don't know they were posted overnight." Harrison sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Numerous pictures of yourself from a couple of years ago staring back at you. Pictures with your ex in very compromising positions mocking you as you looked at them.

You nodded slowly as you swallowed down your emotions, you lifted a shaky hand to run through your hair. The internet had practically seen you for what you were, seen things that were meant for a significant other. Pictures of yourself you'd sent to your ex before things got bad between the two of you.

"Fucking piece of shit." Tom whispered as he himself saw what Harrison had been talking about. You felt like crying, the lump in your throat felt heavy as you tried to swallow it down, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the pictures.

"Sweetheart," Tom started as he took Harrison's phone from your hand and handed it back to his friend. Harrison took it and quickly made his way from your room, he knew you were seconds away from breaking down and you needed your privacy.

"I thought he'd deleted them." You whispered to more yourself than anyone else. "I sent those at the beginning of our relationship, fucking idiot." You said to yourself and Tom pulled you into him as your tears fell, silently crying.

"You're not an idiot. This is on him, not you. I'm so sorry." Tom said as he held you. "He had no right to do that."

"Is he ever going to leave me alone?" You cried and Tom's heart shattered there and then in his chest. This man had been a tormenter for years, too long and he had been cause for your tears numerous times over your relationship.

"He is. I swear to god this is the last time." Tom promised as he held you tight against him. His phone rang yet again and he huffed out in annoyance as he lifted an arm, reaching for his phone. "Hey, I'll call you back." Tom said into the phone, you didn't hear the response. "No, this is more important, I'll talk to you later." Tom snapped before hanging up the phone and throwing it to one side.

You became a sobbing mess, the world having seen parts of yourself you never wanted them to. You wanted to disappear off the face of earth, how were you supposed to go out in public after this? How were you supposed to face the people you knew? Your mind was racing, thoughts embedding themselves as you thought more about what would happen. You only cried harder as you thought about it.

Tom comforted you through your breakdown, reassuring you that it was going to be okay. He was in complete shock, how could someone do this? He wanted to cry as he held you, his heart was broken for the woman in his arms. He listened as you eventually calmed down, breathing steadying as you pulled away from his chest and wiped your face.

"I'm gonna do something about this, I promise." Tom comforted and he watched as a defeated look spread across your face.

"What does it matter? The world has seen them now." You smiled sadly, realising there was nothing you could do. He'd taken things to a knew level, one you would never hear the end of. "It's my own fault, I never should have sent them." You bit your lip as you tried to hold back more tears.

"No baby, don't do that. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." He said as he sat across from you, taking your hands into his own. You couldn't look him in the eye, what if he hated you for this? This was something people could use against him now, what if he was disgusted you ever sent them to him.

"Stop it." Tom said softly, he could see you reeling, see your thoughts consuming you. He always knew, he said you had this look on your face and in your eyes, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Don't, I know what you're thinking and this isn't your fault."

"Look at me," Tom encouraged as he took your chin in his hand and forced your gaze into his own. "I promise this is going to be okay." He comforted and the look in his eyes was so comforting, so safe. No judgement, nothing hiding behind them, he was heart broken for you, you could see that in the tears that were slightly welling in his eyes.

It wasn't that you were against sending pictures to your partner, you and Tom had sent your fair share to each other. But you had learned a valuable lesson, you'd deleted every picture between you and your ex because that was the right thing to do, right? But he hadn't, he'd kept them and it made you uncomfortable as to why? Why would he want to keep those pictures? Why would he release them for the world to see?

"One minute." Tom said as he got off the bed and made his way into the en suite. You heard running water and you knew he was running you a bath, the evidence in the smell of flowers filling the room as he added your favourite bubble bath. He reappeared after a while.

"Come on. I've got some calls to make so you have a bath." He said as he held his hand out for you. Your heart warmed but you sighed as you took his hand and stood up.

"This isn't your mess to clean up Tom, it's mine." You mumbled and Tom shook his head as he tugged you slightly into the bathroom.

"If it affects you, it affects me. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you. I love you okay? This isn't your fault and I'm gonna put an end to his shit, I've had enough. I'm gonna do something about him." Tom said and you smiled sadly.

"Thank you." You said and Tom smiled as he gestured for you to get into the bath.

"I'll be back in a while. I'm gonna talk to my legal team, see what I can do. You just try and relax and I want you to promise me that you'll stay off social media today." He said and you nodded as he smiled in comfort at you, kissing your forehead as he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs, grabbing his phone and putting some sweats on as he did.

"How is she?" Harrison asked, almost as soon as Tom entered the living room. Tom sighed as he turned to his best friend.

"She's upset. Blames herself for ever sending them." He said and Haz furrowed his brows.

"This is that twats fault. I swear if I ever see him again I'm gonna punch the smug look he always has right off his fucking face." Haz said.

"You'll have to get in line. I could kill him for what he's done." Tom said, he was so upset that you'd been put through this. "I want to fucking cry for her Haz, she's devastated." Tom continued as Tuwaine made his way into the room.

"That man is a fucking dick." He ranted straight away, Harry agreeing as he made his way in. "I can't believe the shit he's pulled." He continued.

"He's was so open about it, posting them onto his personal twitter account." Harry said in disbelief.

"I'm hoping that was his biggest mistake, what I can get him for." Tom said as he scrolled his contacts, pulling up the head of his legal team.

"What's the reaction online?" Haz asked carefully and Tuwaine shook his head.

"Half and half, some people are defending her, some are mocking her, others judging. It's a mess, people wanna know how Tom feels about it, some Y/N. I don't know, I tried not to look too much." Tuwaine sighed and Haz gave a tight nod as he grabbed his phone and vigorously started to type.

Tom left the room as he held the phone to his ear, on the phone with his legal team. Disappearing to talk in private. Harrison finally finished his typing as Tuwiane and Harry's phone pinged, Harrison's tweets coming to their attention.

There are no words for what has happened to my two best friends. What this man has done is disgusting and in no way Y/N's fault, please stop circulating the pictures. They were posted without her consent and she is hurting enough without people mocking her. Leave her alone, leave Tom alone. You will hear from them when they are ready.

Harry and Tuwaine retweeting the tweets before adding their own in support of you. You were close to them all, they were like your brother's.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. This is just awful, I can't believe this has happened." Tuwaine said and watched as you appeared in the living room, you had your pyjama pants on, one of Tom's hoodies consuming your upper half as you looked sheepishly around the room.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry this has happened." Tuwaine said as he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in comfort. "It's okay, we're gonna get you through this." He promised and your heart warmed as you hugged him back.

There was a part of you that wondered how much the boys had seen, it made you feel strange around them. What if they'd seen the pictures of your intimate parts?

"I didn't look." Tuwaine said, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "I saw enough to know when to stop scrolling, enough to know what had happened." He reassured as the boys voiced the same.

"Okay, he's gonna do some digging, see how far he can take it. See what he can get him done for." Tom said as he reappeared, you instantly leaving Tuwaine's arms for your boyfriends.

"Is it looking promising? That we can press charges of some sort against him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's just said he'll see if he can take more action. He's already contacted twitter and they're trying to put a stop to the sharing of the pictures. The rest of the sites the same." Tom said as he squeezed you tightly, chin resting on top of your head.

Tom's phone rang again and he pulled it from his pocket, sighing as he watched his publicists name flash across his screen. This was the phone call he was dreading because his PR team didn't give a fuck how you looked, it was all about Tom. This wasn't about him.

"Hello?" Tom said as he answered, he couldn't ignore them forever.

"Tom! Finally!" He heard the shrill screech of her voice and he grimaced as he did. He moved you both to sit on the couch, sitting you on his lap as he cuddled you. "Have you seen the internet?"

"Yeah." Tom said, almost annoyed.

"Y/N needs to put out a statement." She said and Tom huffed, anger building in him.

"Y/N doesn't need to do anything. She will address this if and when she is ready." Tom snapped.

"Tom this will make it look bad for you if neither of you address it. Some people are speculating she's cheated." She replied and your stomach dropped as you overheard her. Tom shifted you onto the couch as he got up, placing a kiss to your lips as he disappeared again. You didn't need to hear any of this.

"I don't give a shit to be honest. She hasn't cheated, these photos where posted without her consent. This isn't about me, this is about her." Tom snapped.

"But Tom, you are Spiderman, your girlfriends nudes have been leaked, pictures of her with another man have leaked." She snapped back and Tom's anger hit breaking point.

"I don't care. I just told you that. I'm not going to force her to do a thing she doesn't want. I don't care that I am Spiderman, what happened to her is wrong and I'm gonna stand by her."

"About that." She said Tom's heart dropped.

"What?"

"We think it might be best if you distanced yourself from her. Make it look like a slight break." His publicist said and Tom's anger hit the roof at the suggestion. His publicist had never been fond of your relationship, they wanted him to date other celebrities, he'd fought them for ages on this front.

"Not happening. This is devastating for her, you really think I'm gonna abandon her? You know what? If anyone thinks negatively about me or her, that's on them because what has happened to her is wrong. How do you think that will look? I can just see the headlines. Tom Holland leaves girlfriend after nudes where leaked without her consent. What sort of a message does that send to people? Did you think about that? Or is this just you taking another opportunity to try and get me seen with someone you approve of?" Tom screamed, the house heard.

"I, I suppose I hadn't thought about that." She stumbled out quietly. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself.

"I don't want to hear anything more about this. I'm going to deal with this my way. This isn't about me, this about her and sticking by her, which I am going to do. Whatever you might say. The fact that you hadn't thought about what I've just said makes clear to me that I can't trust you with this one and maybe I should be looking for someone I can." Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you be. We'll try and do what we can here." She said and Tom didn't even feel guilty for blowing out on his publicist, the team could be the biggest wankers he'd ever met anyway.

"Tom, you'll get in trouble." You said as he made his way back into the room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his side as he kissed your head.

"I don't care. This isn't about me, they need to realise that." Tom spoke into your hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he typed away, minutes later and everyone's phone had pinged, Tom had posted to Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, one taken over winter in by the fire.

I'm sure many of you have seen what has happened. I'm devastated someone would do this, these pictures were posted without her consent. This man kept these pictures for over two years and then posted them. I ask that you stop judging and just think for a second how this would make you feel, if it was you in this position. She trusted him enough to send those images and he broke that trust, it's so wrong.

I ask that you stop posting the pictures, they are not yours or mine to post. There is no cheating involved, this man has caused enough distress for Y/N and I will not let it continue. I want you to support her and send love, it's what she deserves. She's my best friend and my lover, I stand by her 100% on this, I will not tolerate any abuse sent her way.

Please understand that she is not ready to address this and if she never is that's okay. She doesn't have to, this isn't her fault and she has nothing to apologise for. I love her and I hope to see your continued support of her, much love Tom x

He switched his phone off as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more than to make this go away for you, he wanted to hide you from the world, keep you safe. He had to swallow his tears again, heart aching from what this man has done to you, he couldn't stop himself pulling you tighter against him as he tried to keep his tears at bay..

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. I love you." He said into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to straddle him. You pulled each other impossibly closer and the boys smiled at the interaction, no matter what was going on the world, the two had each other. They had each other's backs and it was heart warming to see, to know they had all the support they would ever need in each other.

[cardansriddle]

Could you do a Yandere Tom Riddle where he meets S/O who is exactly like him Slytherin, Halfblood, conceived under a love potion and cold at heart? (You can if you want to)

Destined- Tom Riddle

A/N: I have to admit I strayed away from the topic just a tad bit and got carried away. I did not really explore the Yandere side of Tom here, and this is kinda shitty i know. But I decided to post it nonetheless.

He heard whispers about you.

It had not been surprising at first, Hogwarts did not allow any transfers, yet apparently you had been an exception. Perhaps that should have been his first sign to gain information on you, after all, you had to be quite extraordinary for the Headmaster to make an exception, right? However, he had completely overlooked your arrival, not giving her a second glance during the classes, in the hallways, or at the Slytherin table where he would dine.

Yet two weeks passed, and while Tom had expected the whispers to cease, they seemed to increase each day. That was the exact reason why he had decided to finally see what all the fuss was about. What was so special about you that no one could shut up about the new girl?

His fellow Slytherins would always sneer whenever your name came up. He was tired of Abraxas going on a rant about how halfbloods were not pure enough to be sorted into Slytherin, and once Tom had snapped, throwing a hex at him to shut him up. After all, he was a halfblood as well.

He was hidden in the safety of the shadows, tracking your silent steps as you moved through the corridors of the ancient castle, your soft hair cascading down your back while you adjusted the strap of your bag, releasing a frustrated huff every now and then. Many would move out of your way, parting and allowing you to pass and Tom's brows furrowed at the obvious action of fear— or was it respect?— as he continued to follow you.

After a short while, his patience started to run out, and he was quite tired of tracking your steps. The boy was tempted to slip some truth serum into your drink at some point, yet he had refrained, a part of him knowing you would somehow take notice of the trickery. He knew it by the way your eyes would survey the room very carefully as if you were cautious and distrustful of everyone that surrounded you. It bothered him how similar both of your mindsets were.

He heard you had managed to hex a handful of students ever since your arrival, whispering such threats in their ears that they would leave with trembling limbs. 

You had darkness in you, and Tom was planning on unleashing it.

You finally made it to the library, politely greeting the old librarian before moving to your usual table in the corner, a space that was secluded and away from prying eyes. You pulled out an unfamiliar book and did not waste a second before you were indulged in it.

Tom watched, as your brows knitted together in concentration, as you pulled your lower lip in between your thumb and pointer finger, as you ran a hand through your soft hair in frustration, and he devoured every little action. 

A little amount of time passes before he could not stand the questions gnawing at his mind, so he finally decided to approach you, settling in the chair next to you with grace.

You looked up from your book, your expression annoyed as you stared at the Prefect next to you. "Can I help you?"

He did not respond for a brief moment, as his eyes fell to the cover of the book you were currently reading. 'Love Potions: The Dangers and Effects'

"An interesting choice of book." He expressed his thought sourly, wondering why she would waste her time reading a book on Love Potions. Had he miscalculated things? Was she not special? Was she just another foolish girl searching for love? He almost gagged at the thought.

"Not particularly." You answered with a tired sigh. "It was apparently written by an imbecile because there is no useful information in here." With that said, you snapped the book shut and turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "Is there something you need, Riddle? Because I would rather not waste my time and chit-chat."

"Many would love to be in your place and chit-chat with me, darling." He answered, his lips curling into a smug smirk. You rolled your eyes at his arrogance. "What was it that you were looking for in a book about Love Potions?"

You glanced at him, debating whether or not to actually answer his question. You've heard that Tom Riddle was the brightest student in school, and after some contemplation, you came to the conclusion that perhaps he would have some insight on the subject you were so interested in.

"What do you know about children conceived under the effects of a love potion?" You asked, and quirked a brow as his body stilled. His guarded eyes searched your face before he straightened his spine.

"Why are you asking?"

You sighed then, figuring he did not know about it. "Forget it. You're just as useless as the imbecile who wrote this." You made a move to grab your book and put it back in your bag, yet you were startled when his hand slammed on the table, the other grabbing the back of your chair as he leaned in towards you.

"Watch your mouth." He snarled.

"Jeez, you're sensitive." You smirked as you put your hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. 

He continued to glare at you, even as he settled back in his seat.

"Children conceived under the love potion are told to be void of most of the emotions. They cannot feel, they cannot sympathise, and cannot feel love."

His words caused you to freeze in your place, and it was as if realisation dawned upon you as you stared numbly at your hands. So that is why you felt no remorse, no regret, no guilt- and no love towards the people you were supposed to care about.

He watched you, as you seemed to be mulling over things in your head, and a thought struck his head. 

“Were you conceived under the effects of the love potion?”

You looked up, surprised at his bluntness. 

You debated lying to him, yet you knew Tom Riddle, and he was not the type to gossip or indulge in similar useless activities, so with a bitter smile, you responded. “Yes. I was.”

Something churned in Tom’s heart, something dangerous as he stared at you. You were...similar to him. He had never been able to say that about someone. There had been no one that could understand his feelings- or well, the lack of- and now there you were, the one person in the universe who happened to have the same unfortunate fate as him.

“So was I.” Was his unexpected response. You saw no deception behind his gaze and knew he had no reason or motive to lie about such a thing, and you believed him.

It was then that you had formed a bond that went unspoken. It was as if you understood each other without needing to speak the words. And that is how that weird night blossomed into days of spending time together, becoming friends. It was quite easy, you matched each other’s level both emotionally and intellectually, and it came as a relief to the both of you.

Whatever you two had, had blossomed into a deep trustful releationship, and you had been informed of Tom’s plans for the future. As expected, you supported his idea, his beliefs, and your own thirst for power had you feeling giddy at the idea of becoming unstoppable.

It was when you were both at that same table in the library when he spoke the words that you swore made you feel something.

“As I rule over the world.” He breathed. “I want you by my side, ruling as the Dark Lady. The world will be ours. We will be a force to be reckoned with.”

You had looked up at him with utter yet pleasant surprise, and you had felt your lips curl into a smirk as you agreed, because how could you not when he was offering the whole world to you?

He then had grabbed your chin, lifting your face and brushing his soft lips against yours. 

That day, he had kissed you so hard, you thought your lips would bruise, yet you did not dare complain. If that was what pain felt like, you would take it every day, only to feel his lips on yours once more.

The universe had created you for one another, two similar souls destined for a great purpose. Destined to rule the world.

[freindly-neighbourhood-anarchist]

☀︎︎-: 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 :-☀︎︎

Kimetsu no yaiba x reader

°•.《 characters 》.•°

Rengoku, Giyuu, Shinobu, Sanemi

Tw: Swearing because Sanemi is Sanemi

____________________________________________

I'm definitely gonna binge write this series after watching the movie, I literally cant stop thinking about it--

Send in as much requests as you want!! :))

I do fluff, different AU's, angst and NSFW(we'll see).

Keep in mind, I havent read the manga. I'm caught up to the train Arc and that's it, so try not to spoil anything by requesting characters that havent appeared yet lol

« `` •"𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞~"• ´´ »

☼︎ ☀︎︎ʀᴇɴɢᴏᴋᴜ ᴋʏᴏᴜᴊᴜʀᴏᴜ☀︎︎ ☼︎

Holding hands is sort of a need for him-

He's huge with PDA and holding your small hand within his reassures him quite a bit. He never needs to ask to hold your hand, he just grips it whenever and wherever.

I feel like he'll sense when your nervous and be really perceptive, so he'd hold your hand to ground you in a way

It's highly effectve.

"Delicious!" Your energetic boyfriend chirped, eating his takoyaki with fervour and a bright smile.

You ate your own food from across him, shaking your head a little with a slight smile slanting onto your lips.

It's definitely been a long day, so winding down and eating with your amazing boyfriend is definitely a preferable way to end it.

He sort of sensed your stress as you came back from training, sweat sleek across your forehead. And thus, he ran a bath for you and then took you out for dinner to take your mind off of whatever was bothering you.

He's always had a keen intuition and was brilliant at reading emotions on others. It was a weird super power at this point. But he noticed how relaxed you were now that you were with him, it melted his heart.

His eyes flickered over your expression, his eyes soft with adoration and affection." This is certainly calming after a long day!" He exclaimed happily.

At his jolly aura, you nodded in agreement," Honestly... It's like you have some weird superpower to make me forget about whatever was annoying me. Kinda freaky." You shivered.

Letting out a hearty laugh, the man reached out, interlacing his long fingers with yours suddenly. The warmth of his skin sending goosebumps over your arms.

"I just know you too well! Nothing wrong or freaky about that!" His grin was filled with light.

Your fingers tightened around his, his warm skin seemed to be heating up your own body as well. Thank God, you were beginning to get cold anyways.

"Have I ever told you about how cute your hands are!" It was more of a statement than a question, pulling his hand and your hand closer to him so he could get a better glimpse at your soft hands." So tiny... So soft. It's like I'm being touched by an angel!"

"Geez, you're cheesy."

"You love it~!"

"... Fair point."

•«☔︎ 𝙜𝙞𝙮𝙪𝙪 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙤𝙠𝙖 ☔︎»•

Bro I'm sorry, but I dont think he holds your hand much-

I feel like he thinks he doesnt need to show how much he loves you through actions, more so through blunt words.

But he will get the sudden urge to hold your hand every once in a while, so be prepared because he could get the jump on you at any point.

Doesnt like PDA that much, it makes him slightly uncomfortable because it's in public but I feel like he would get used to it later in your relationship.

Ocean-blue eyes stared at you hesitantly as you continued to speak about the new breathing technique you had learned.

Both you and Giyuu were walking peacefully through the garden you had grown over the years, the plants varying in different colours and sizes. They reminded him of you.

Your peaceful personality cued him to remember the petals of the flowers blowing gently in the breeze. Not to mention you smell very distinctly and sweet just like the flowers as well.

But as he walked with you in this haven, he felt pretty agitated and frustated. He hid it well with his usual deapan expressions, but he could feel the pit of the emotions growing bigger.

His hand twitched suddenly when the back of yours brushed against his, his cheeks tinting pink at the abrupt contact.

Gulping, he looked straight ahead with sharp eyes and a furrowed brow.

The atmosphere shifted.

And when you had stopped talking, he knew that you had noticed the harsh shift as well.

"Giyuu?... Are you feeling okay? You look like you're burning up." You questioned out of concern, a worried expression upon your face.

Shaking his head briefly, the ravenette continued to walk with his head staring straight ahead," I feel optimal. Why do you ask?" He was so obviously trying to change the subject.

You frowned a little at the stiff response and opened your mouth to respond but your boyfriend had beaten you to it.

"Let me h-... Hold your... Hand... Please." He uttered, looking down with red cheeks, an embarrassed scowl squirmed on his lips.

You were silent for a long while, making him wait nervously for your answer. What he wasn't expecting was the cute snort of laughter coming from you and grabbing his hand tightly within your own, your other hand wrapping around his forearm like it was a substitute teddy bear.

His cheeks heated up tenfold and he had to look away before you noticed.

"You're such a cutie. You don't need to ask to hold my hand you know?" You teased lightly, nudging him playfully by bumping your hip against his.

"I-it's embarrassing." He retorted.

"Whatever, cutie."

"No."

"Yes."

"Stop it."

꧁ꕥ 𝑲𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒃𝒖 ꕥ꧂

She would sooo tease you for wanting to hold her hand-

Like, she would hold it obvi, but she'd tease you about it for a good 5 minutes before finally giving up lol

Flustering you is one of her favourite pastimes, it was what your relationship was built on top of in the first place. Teasing eachother was always a thing you guys did.

But Kocho takes teasing to a MAXIMUM.

It's like you guys are challenging eachother to a tease off and she just refuses to loose. She'd rather die.

Dramatic but true

What a fucking queen-

"Ara, ara~ what was that? You want to hold my hand?" The raven haired woman pressed her hand against her lips, raising a suggestive eyebrow at you." Oh~ How scandalous! You're saying we should do pre-martial hand holding? why, that's practically a crime!"

You deadpanned at your girlfriend's words," Holding your hand is a crime?..."

"Mmhm!"

"But we literally made-out yester-"

She smiled at you passive-aggressively," I'm afraid we can't hold hands until we're married! Too bad!" She sighed, pretending to seem devastated ," How could you suggest we do such a lewd thing? In public, no less! You're quite the little scoundrel, hmm?~"

Your deadpan only deepened," Well then... I guess I'll just have to marry you then, hm? So I can hold your hand for the rest of my life." You chimed out, a slight twinkle in your eye. At the sight of Kocho's cheeks tinting a bright red, you smirked in triumph." Oya~? What's that I see? Is that blush?" You poked her warm cheek affectionately," I think it iiiis~!"

Biting her lip, Kocho scoffed and rolled her eyes," Just because you won doesn't mean you-... Shut up." She huffed out, losing her composure.

" Aha! So I won." You grinned out," I think I deserve a prize for winning for like... the first time." You said that last part quickly.

" You're not getting a kiss, if that's what you're referring to!" She smiled up at you passive aggressively.

Now the win didn't even feel like a win.

I guess, Kocho will always win in the end.

You pouted at her, eyebrows furrowed," You're so petty...." You groaned out, before a cheeky grin crossed over your lips," How about letting me hold your hand instead?"

Kocho stared at your grin with an unimpressed look, before her eyes softened and a gentle smile spread onto her perfect lips." Wipe that cheeky grin off of your face and I might consider it."

A bright smile instantly spread onto your lips and you held out your hand expectantly for her to take it. Her radiant smile only widened and her hand settled into yours, her warm fingers closing over your own as if she was keeping them safe in her hold.

" Now you have to marry me." She stated simply," I want to hold your hand in mine for the rest of my life as well."

᯾༄𖦹.𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕚 .𖦹༄᯾

BRUUUUH THIS FUCKING MAN-

Ok, so hear me out lol-

I have read up on his character a tiny bit and bro he's such a fucking SOFTY like-

If you were to ask him to hold your hand he'd highkey have to process what you said for like a minute or two before finally agreeing to it lol

He has such a tough-guy exterior when on the inside he's actually really caring to those who are important to him.

Definitely one of those characters who seem like pricks but they like something cute like cats or something-

"Uhm... Sanemi?" You spoke up suddenly, interrupting the peaceful silence.

Your boyfriend broke out of his daze of appreciating your beauty and hummed to let you know that he was listening, picking up some of his uneaten rice with his chopsticks.

"Can... Can I h-hold your hand?"

He choked on the rice he was eating, coughing into his fist and thumping his other hand against his chest to try and get the rice that shot down the back of his throat to go down.

You went to get out of your chair to help him, concern etched onto your face, but he held a hand up to stop you. Instead, you simply passed your water to him, as of which he chugged greatfully.

When he had finally gained his composure, he held out a slightly trembling hand, his cheeks tinted red as he let out a gruff," yeah... Of course you can, idiot. You don't have to ask..."

Adoration bloomed in your chest at his words and you grabbed his outstretched hand, instantly interlocking your fingers with his. Absentmindedly, you ran your thumb up and down his hand comfortingly as you smiled like an idiot to yourself.

Ba-dump.

Sanemi's heart thumped in his chest at the look of love on your face, feeling his whole body heating up. The wind pillar was known for being ruthless, intimidating and quite frankly... A bit of an asshole.

But around you? He's a completely different person.

Between you and his little brother, he's always going to have a huge soft spot for you both.

So he'll always treat you well.

Squeezing your hand lovingly, he let a slight smirk curl onto his lips," You look like a dumbass smiling like that.... You must really like me, huh?" He tried to tease.

"I don't like you."

Arrows shot through his heart, his smirk dropping in an instant," Oi-!"

You giggled at his response," I love you."

The frown on his lips wobbled a little, threatening to break out into an idiotic smile. Clearing his throat, he looked away from you and pressed the back of his unoccupied hand against his mouth to hide the smile that threatened to appear.

"Oh..." He could only respond with," y-yeah... Same here."

"You're so socially inept."

"I'm damn not!!" He grumbled, eyebrows furrowing," I fucking love you too!! Is that better?"

You grinned childishly, bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a light kiss to it," much better."

It's safe to say that this was the day he vowed to marry you.

[ah-ga-seven]

No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader 

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot. 

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.  

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.  

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.  

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.  

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.  

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.  

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.  

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.  

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.  

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.  

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.  

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.  

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.  

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.  

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.  

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.  

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.  

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”  

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.  

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.  

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.  

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.  

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.  

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.  

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.  

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”  

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.  

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away.  Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.  

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.  

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”  

[up-to-some-good]

Resolution (Part 2/2)

Reparations

Part 1

After Remus was able to gather himself, he Flooed straight to Dumbledore’s office with the box, not caring about the late hour or his dishevelled state. The next few hours, days, we’re a blue, time stretching and changing so much that Remus struggled to keep track.

One minute, he was standing, yelling at Albus between sobs, begging him to do something; the next, he was reading the headline of the Prophet: Sirius Black Proven Innocent.

Somehow, he found himself in his living room, facing Albus and a man he claimed was Sirius. The man was the right height and had the right colouring, but his long hair was tangled and greasy, hanging limply by his face; his cheek bones jutted out under too-pale skin and his eyes were sunken and dull. The Sirius standing there was not the Sirius who had left with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to be back six years ago.

When Albus had gone, Remus approached Sirius slowly, like he was a frightened animal. He gently took his hand and kissed his forehead before leading him to the bathroom. Sirius’s footfalls we’re silent on the hardwood floors, the only noise he made his careful breaths.

He didn’t speak as Remus stripped off his tattered prison robes and placed him in the bath. He didn’t utter a word as he was washed by gentle hands wielding sweet smelling soaps or as those same hands dried him off and dressed him in his softest pyjamas before sitting him in the mirror for a haircut.

Remus watched the ghost of a man as he ran his fingers through his clean hair, newly cut to his collar bones where he had always liked it best. His hand shook as he turned around and met Remus’s eyes for the first time.

“Moony?” His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from disuse.

“I’m right here, love,” Remus responded quietly.

In a second, the dam broke. Sirius launched himself into his boyfriend’s arms and sobbed into his chest, muttering incoherent apologies and explanations as Remus stroked his hair.

From that moment, Remus started to track time by Sirius’s return and recovery.

On Day Three, Sirius was able to finish his breakfast. He hadn’t eaten much since returning, staring at his food as if he couldn’t believe it was real. That morning, he ate his entire small portion without fading away, and Remus almost cried.

On Day Five, Sirius kissed Remus good morning in the moment of bliss before they remembered everything that had happen. They passed through the emotions together: shock, disbelief, anxiety, relief. They didn’t get out of bed until the afternoon, choosing instead to stay in bed holding each other, trading chaste kisses and quiet words of love.

On Day Seven, Sirius asked about Harry and Remus broke down. He sobbed into his boyfriend’s chest for what felt like hours before telling the story of himself begging to look after Harry, then just to see him before he went to his aunt, only to be firmly denied by Dumbledore.

Soon after, the couple appeared in the headmaster’s office, prepared for a fight. The conversation started calmly, Albus explaining that Harry was safest with his aunt while Sirius explained that he was the godfather, the rightful guardian.

“Harry must be with his family, Mr Black. That’s where he is safest,” Albus tried.

“I am his family,” Sirius argued. “We both are. They wanted us to have him, if anything went wrong. He should be with us.”

“Unfortunately, it is impossible.”

From there it began to escalate, Sirius’s temper shorter from six years of imprisonment.

“Why is it impossible? This isn’t right, Albus! Just tell us where he is!”

“There are certain protections Harry has with the Dursleys that he wouldn’t have with you,” Albus tried again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to us!”

Sirius all but fell into the chair next to Remus, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. He hated yelling, hated losing his temper and turning into a horrible parody of his mother.

Albus sighed deeply, interlocking his fingers and resting his elbows on the desk, before speaking.

“When Lily Potter sacrificed her life for her son, she created a powerful web of protection over her son, but the magic only holds while he remains with his blood family - Petunia Dursley.”

“How?” Remus asked, softly. “How did her death create this?”

Albus smiled.

“The most powerful force of magic known to wizardkind: love.”

Remus took a moment to process before speaking. Sirius, knowing his partner well after so long together, stayed silent.

“Then explain to me why her magic applies to Petunia Dursley, who hated her sister, brother-in-law and nephew more than anything because of their existence as wizards, but does not apply to Sirius and myself, who have shown on more than one occasion that we would die for the Potters.”

“I -”

“And, furthermore, explain to me why two muggles who refuse to even accept magic are better equipped to protect Harry than two highly capable and powerful wizards with experience in both defence and concealment.”

Where Sirius’s rage came in small bursts, like fire crackers, Remus’s was a low simmering that would boil over in time. His voice had deepened as he spoke, showing his anger that was moment away from reaching a breaking point.

Albus didn’t respond for a long moment, pressing his lips together into a thin line while he thought.

“Well,” he tried again. “Besides all that, there is the fact that his fame means he should be raised outside of wizarding society to be shielded from that.”

“Do you think we will be telling him bedtime stories about his parents’ death? Painting a mural to his scar in our living room and allowing the neighbours to come and ogle him for a couple of Galleons?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Should he not also be raised knowing of his fame, rather than arriving for his first year at Hogwarts to be greeted with stares from strangers?” Remus added.

Albus fell silent again before standing and retrieving parchment. He scribbled a small note and sent it off with Fawkes without a word to his companions.

Finally, he spoke. “I do not concede easily, but I must admit that you are right. With Mr Black released from prison, I must respect the Potters wishes. The Dursleys will be expecting you this afternoon.”

Retrieving Harry turned out not to be a simple matter. There was the issue of adoption paperwork, which they both had to sign, as well as paperwork acknowledging the risks of raising a child with a werewolf in the household. Then there was the issue of arriving at the Dursleys’ home, and seeing the neglect Harry had been exposed to over the past six years without becoming reactive and hurting any of his so-called guardians. Finally, however, they were able to head back home, Harry clinging on to Sirius tightly.

He was a different boy than the toddler Remus remembered. He was small for his six and a half years and too quiet. The curiosity Lily had encouraged was gone, constant questioning replaced with silent acceptance. The mischief James had lamented disappeared to, replaced with a concerning level of obedience for such a young boy. Remus could only hope they could get it back, for not only Harry’s sake, but for his parents’.

It was overwhelming and terrifying, bringing a child back to their one bedroom flat. Remus got himself a cup of tea in an attempt to gather himself, but found himself hyperventilating into the cup while Sirius tried to settle Harry into their bed. His thoughts began racing and he started losing himself until a low, melodic voice from the bedroom interrupted his spiral.

As a clock somewhere struck midnight on Day Eight, Sirius sang a lullaby; Remus settled back into their couch with a sigh, finally able to believe that, with time, they’d be okay.

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 11: Playing the Game

AN: I hope y'all enjoy this non-stop flirt-a-thon, chapter count got increased again, so we'll get back to the plot in the next chapter!

At first, Marinette didn’t know how to act. This was the last route she expected Damian to take. The shock of Damian’s lips against hers turned her body rigid; hands splayed out to the sides, unsure of where to touch. After a second of floundering, she gained enough bearing to place her hands firmly on Damian’s arms. Her once still lips hesitantly moving against his. The closed-mouth kiss stayed chaste, but Marinette found herself fluttering her eyes closed, sinking into the warmth.

Damian stood taller than her, bending into the kiss while she craned her neck. Marinette pushed herself upward, arching onto the tips of her toes, and Damian’s hands wrapped tighter around her waist, deepening the kiss. She readjusted her mouth for a second grabbing a quick gasp of air before diving in again with more fervor. Damian responded in kind, pushing her back fully against the wall, one hand migrating from her waist to cup her cheek.

Damn. Damian was a good kisser.

“What the- Hey, customers are not allowed to be in here!”

Oh, right. The employee. That’s why they were kissing.

Why would kissing be helpful in this situation?

Not that Marinette was complaining, but-

Damian pulled away from her, and Marinette held back a pitiful whine when he turned away and faced the employee.

‘Bad thoughts, Marinette,’ she chided herself. ‘Focus on the mission, not Damian, or his lips, or his eyes, or-’

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” said Damian with a bashful smile.

Wait…

Blink.

What?

Marinette dragged herself out of the kiss-induced bliss, focusing on her co-conspirator, and had she been less in control of herself her jaw would have dropped.

Damian’s whole demeanor had markedly changed. His normal sharp posture sunk into a causal slouch; the emotions on his face, generally a mix of sharp observation or practiced disdain, now a mix of charming elegance and, yes, bashfulness. He flashed a wide grin at the oncoming employee, a person in their early twenties, who froze when they saw them.

Or rather, Damian.

Rapidly blinking bright blue eyes gazed at them. “Oh, oh you- you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know who I am,” said Damian, rubbing the back of his neck. Even the way he spoke changed; careful pronunciation and formality thrown out the window for a lax New Jersian drawl. “What’s your name?” He asked with such a genuine smile, had Marinette not been versed in people lying through their teeth, she would have bought it.

Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how famous Damian’s family was – obviously rich enough, and high profile enough - to be recognized on the spot.

The person paused for a moment, fiddling with a strand of curly blond hair. “I’m- I’m ah… Fey, nice to meet you Mr.-”

Damian cut them off with a laugh. “Oh please, any name with a mister makes me think of my father or my older brother. Call me Dami.” He offered a hand to the flustered Fey. They limply shook it.

“Oh… ah- alright Dami.”

Damian encircled a hand around Marinette’s waist dragging her out of the weirdness induced fugue state she’d fallen into. “And this… well,” he lowered his eyes, catching her attention and winked. “This is my girlfriend Marinette.”

Fuck, this is what he meant by play along.

Fey dropped open their mouth before closing it quickly.

“Oh, I hadn’t read-”

Damian cut the flustered employee off again.

“We’ve kept it quiet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The papers would devour a story like this,” he said, with a sense of vapid annoyance, although a trace of his normal calculated disdain accented his words.

Note to self; Damian didn’t like the media. Good, Marinette didn’t much like the invasive vultures either.

Fey nodded along, twirling a lock of hair on their finger. “Oh yeah, that totally makes sense.” They paused shaking their head to clear away an emotion… awe? Fear? Marinette couldn’t tell. “But uh, why are you here? Like in the stairwell, not in the store. Because of course celebrities would still shop, right? I mean-” Poor Fey was a stuttering mess. Marinette almost felt bad for them.

She felt like an absolute stuttering mess too, but she would be damned if Damian would carry this lie all by himself.

She was fucking Ladybug; savior of Paris, Guardian of the Miraculous.

She could act like a lovestruck fool.

“It iz so sweet,” she said, emphasizing her accent to add a little more pageantry to this entire scheme. “I just arrived back from Paris, and wanted to decorate my new apartment with ze ah-” she waved her hands around, “Oh, how you Americans put it? Fairy lights?”

Fey nodded quickly. “Yeah, we have a couple of good selections, but-” Marinette continued before they could logic their way out of the made-up cover story.

“I planned to go by myself, but Dami-” at this she moved forward to wrap her arms around his, leaning into his side. The warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes. “He insisted on ‘companying me even though he dozen’t like ze crowds.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “He gets grumpy,” she divulged with a girlish giggle. Why Damian did a 180 on his personality was a complete mystery, but if he dropped the act, this would make Fey less suspicious.

Fey nodded right along like Marinette’s comment made total sense. “Yeah, I don’t read too many magazines, but damn they must pin you all wrong,” they said to Damian. From Marinette’s position at his side, she felt his body tense the slightest amount. “Gotham’s Ice Prince, yeah right.”

Marinette inwardly quirked an eyebrow. ‘Ice Prince, huh?’ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before.

Damian nervously chuckled again, sounding more authentic this time. “Oh no, I’m a grump when it comes to the media, I fully admit. My, ah,” he looked at her again, an apology flashing in his green eyes. “Angel here puts me in a better mood.”

A rushing noise filled Marinette’s ears, and her heart quickened. She vaguely registered a squeal of delight coming from Fey, but it sounded far away compared to her blood pounding at a thunderous level. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and the confident smile she plastered on her face almost dropped at the pet name.

Angel.

He called her angel.

What level of utter insanity had she dropped into?

“A few disguises later,” Damian continued, adjusting the glasses on his face, and oblivious of the turmoil he’d created in Marinette’s mind. “I thought we’d be able to stay under the radar, I just wanted a day out with my girlfriend,” he said with a put-upon sigh. The emotional, charming actions stood in complete opposite to Damian’s normal demeanor.

Marinette found herself desperately torn between breaking down laughing hysterically or clapping at Damian’s masterful performance.

“You got noticed?” asked Fey.

“We got noticed.” Damian sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Marinette regretted not touching it while she and Damian kissed; was it as fluffy as it looked? “And Marinette, the sweet angel she is, isn’t used to the whole utter insanity of… you know, dating a celebrity.” He glanced at her, teasing her with a fonder smirk than his usual. Marinette wanted to roll her eyes. Damian had no clue she knew very well the consequences of dating a celebrity.

Never mind she’d only dated Adrian a month before they broke up because his dad turned out to be a psychopathic supervillain intent on plunging the whole of France into an apocalyptic hellscape in an attempt to upset the universes’ balance, and was fully okay with killing the both of them to make it happen.

Being friends after that little debacle was the better option. For both their sanities.

‘Focus Marinette.’ She dragged her attention back to the conversation.

“We kinda ducked in here when nobody was paying attention. I want to keep this away from the media as long as possible, for my angel’s privacy.” Marinette wanted to scoff at how Damian leaned into that nickname. He certainly was laying it on thick. Marinette wouldn’t have bought the act, but that was due to her years of lying and deceiving in the name of super-heroics.

Fey, with their eager demeanor and bright blue eyes, didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, that’s awful people wouldn’t leave you alone. I bet most celebrities would be familiar with the attention, but for you to look out for Marinette too?” They whistled. “Damn girl, he’s a keeper for sure.”

The blush gracing Marinette’s cheeks was 100% real. “Oh, well, ah, zank you. I know.”

“Well, no one will hear a word from me,” Fey promised. They fiddled with their hands and sent a shy smile at Damian. Marinette’s stomach clenched at the sight, and without her permission, her traitorous hands tightened their grip on Damian’s arm. “Without your family’s scholarship, my sister never would have graduated med school. She would kill me if I even thought of ratting you out to the papers.”

“Oh…” said Damian, his outward appearance of shock mirroring Marinette’s own internal emotions.

‘His family is rich enough to fund medical scholarships?’

“Well, that’s not on me directly, you know,” he commented. “All my father’s doing. I hope- ah… I hope she’s doing well?” Although his face portrayed a bashful and relaxed air, his body language screamed uncomfortableness. Marinette released one hand from his arm and brought it to rest on the small of his back, circling her thumb around. He relaxed, slightly, and Marinette smiled.

“Yeah, actually she is,” said Fey beaming. “She’s working at the new pediatric clinic that opened in Crime Alley.”

“Good for her,” said Damian honestly. “We need more people willing to work to make the city a better place. Money can only do so much.”

“Money definitely helps though,” Fey replied, wryly. Marinette agreed. Long-buried memories of her early years arose. Living above her parents’ shop, where every month they spread their bills across the kitchen table and talked in hushed tones while Marinette sat on the steps to her attic room and worried, even if at five and six she didn’t know what she was worried about.

Those days were long gone. Her parents and their creations internationally famous, with three separate locations across the greater Paris metro alone. But that worry never really went away.

Fey shifted on their feet reading their watch. “Well, you guys stay here if you want until whatever crowd out there loses interest.” They gestured to the door Marinette and Damian entered through. “Or you can come with me if you want?” Pointing to the other locked door. “I’m heading out to the atrium to deal with a problem, but you can continue on with your shopping.”

“Zank you so much,” Marinette replied. “We will go with you if you do not mind?”

“Of course not,” said Fey, walking to the door and pulling out a security key. They opened the door, but Damian held it allowing Marinette and Fey to walk through before he followed. Placing a hand once more around Marinette’s waist.

“What problem in the atrium, if you don’t mind me asking?” he prodded, sharing a look with Marinette.

It could be nothing, but it could also have something to do with his brothers.

Considering their luck today, Marinette would be shocked if it wasn’t the latter option.

“Oh, well it started with the children’s center shutting down. Apparently, the kids got it in their minds to start a dodge ball fight with the workers. Which, you know, totally fair,” confided Fey, as they walked through the back corridors. “Sounded like it was a blast to watch. I was such a shit when I was a kid, I would have joined them in a heartbeat. It wrapped up fairly quickly, but they can’t convince the main instigator to descend from the jungle gym. I think they’re still hunting down her parents.”

Marinette pursed her lips trying to hold back a smile. ‘Oh, Abby,’ she thought, ‘you absolute gem.’

“I only heard about it from Lisa when I got back because I was dealing with a security issue in the back lot.” Fey glanced at them nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong, we’re perfectly safe.”

Marinette and Damian shared a look.

Jason.

“Of course,” said Marinette.

Followed by a quick, “Absolutely,” from Damian.

Fey relaxed. “So this is, apparently, a whole bunch of workers on strike? They walked out of the back warehouse and congregated in the atrium, spouting on about living wages and corrupt big business, and the effects of verbal abuse in the workplace.” Fey said with a wave of their arms. “And it’s not like I don’t agree, because I do. Jerry, the warehouse general manager, is an asshole.” Marinette and Damian exchange worried glances at the rotund angry man’s name, who they last saw dragging a singed Tim into an office.

“…but it makes my job hard,” whined Fey, oblivious to their compatriot’s inner panic. “And the Starbucks baristas joined them, so their kiosk closed too.” Fey chuckled, “I would avoid the whole area if I were you, especially if you don’t want anyone finding out you’re together.”

“I wonder how zat ended up happening?” Marinette asked hopefully her high-pitched voice conveyed confusion instead of slowly settling in panic.

“They called in saying some guy lead the charge, he’s worked the crowd into a fervor. I’m there to be the HR rep while security tries to remove him. You know, normally my job involves sitting at a desk all day listening to bitchy customers on the phone. I’ve dealt with more in-store problems today since last Black Friday.” Fey chuckled. “What a day, ya’ know?”

Marinette glanced at Damian, his casual mask still firmly in place, although his left eye twitched, and the hand he wrapped around her waist, tightened at Fey’s words.

Fey finally reached another door, pulling out their pass and lead them out into the store’s main section.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Marinette, Dami,” Fey chirped. “Nobody will hear from me about any of this.” They mimed zipping their lips.

Marinette smiled, hoping the strain wasn’t too noticeable. “It waz nice to meet you too Fey.”

“Good luck with whatever is happening in the atrium,” said Damian. They stood at the door and watched them move out of sight. When Fey finally disappeared around a corner, Damian turned to Marinette his casual persona rippling away as if it never existed at all. His hand slipped off her waist.

She did not, absolutely not, want to grab it and put it back thank you very much.

“How much do you wish to wager on Drake’s involvement in whatever is occurring in the atrium?” he asked. Marinette smiled, reassured at the return of his clipped and formal tone. The informal speech felt wrong coming from Damian’s mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know Dami?” she teased. Then again, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by her. “I don’t think I have enough money for that bet with you.”

Damian closed his eyes with a grimace and sigh. “Do not call me that.” He opened his eyes, an expression just short of pleading radiated from them “Please.”

“I would rather gag, and it sounds so would you.” Marinette covered her grin with her hand, unable to stop a slight giggle at the man’s long-suffering tone. “You pulled off vapid lovesick celebrity well, but why the need to act at all?”

“I have plenty of reference to draw from,” he grumbled, piquing Marinette’s interest; every half aside comment enticing her to dig further at Damian’s life. “I needed whoever descended those steps on our side and my normal... demeanor tends to put people off.” He folded his hands behind his back, a perfect picture of casualness, but the tightness around his eyes and the twitch of his mouth was all Marinette needed to note his self-consciousness.

“Well, I for one find your usual self charming,” Marinette admitted, pleased when Damian relaxed at her words. “You freaked me out acting that weird.”

“It is not an option I use often,” Damian admitted. “My brothers tend to make big productions of themselves. I prefer a far subtler approach, but this required more theatrics to make it believable.” He glanced at her. “I hope…” he paused. She watched his hand flutter and turn into a fist at his side. “I hope I did not overstep your bounds, that is, I mean violate your...” Damian refused to look at her, his gaze firmly planted on a far wall.

Marinette could let the poor man continue but ended up taking pity on him before he dug an even deeper hole. She placed a hand on his arm. “You were fine. If I didn’t want you… kissing me,” she said the words out loud for the first time, reigning in a pleasurable shudder at the memory. “I would have pushed you off, and if I felt violated, which I didn’t, you would have found yourself on the ground in plenty of pain.”

Damian dragged his gaze back to hers, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Undoubtedly, yes, you easily could have done so.”

Marinette smirked again, not willing to let the entire debacle slip away quite yet though. “Although I have to ask, where in the world did angel come from? And what on earth made you think it would be a good nickname for our fake relationship?”

Damian lifted his nose haughtily. “It is a perfectly acceptable name of affection for a significant other. What, did you wish for ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’?” he asked, drawing out those names with the earlier casual New Jersian accent. Marinette withheld a shiver at his low tone of voice curling those words around his tongue. She may prefer his normal speech, but damn he still sounded unbearably attractive when he dropped that low.

‘Focus, Marinette. FOCUS!’ she inwardly screamed at herself.

“Goodness no,” said Marinette, forcing a pretend shudder. “Something with more class perhaps? Darling, or beloved?”

Damian pursed his lips. “Not beloved. That’s what my mother refers to my father with.” Marinette winced, yeah, that could be awkward. Not that this whole conversation wasn’t a disaster plucked out of a fever dream. Why, why was she debating Damian on the finer points of affectionate nickname giving?

But her mouth continued talking. “Alright, I suppose angel isn’t bad in comparison. Still, it’s a bit cliché. What does that make you? A demon?”

Damian tilted his head with a shrug. “Tt. My brothers do call me that on occasion, yes.” Oh right, Jason called him demon-spawn a few times during their confrontation. With the way Damian rolled his eyes in annoyance, Marinette figured a story lurked behind that particular nickname.

“Regardless, we have strayed dangerously off-topic here. We should head towards the pandemonium in the atrium, yes?” Damian pushed off the wall he’d leaned against, and Marinette followed.

“I thought it was Panic at the Disco?” Marinette teased with a grin.

Damian pointed a finger at her, trying for a stern expression, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You think yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”

“I think I’m adorable,” she shot back. “But I also think you’re right. It sounds like Tim managed to involve himself. If he’s making a scene, I bet he’ll draw the rest of your brothers there too.”

“You think Grayson will escape the clutches of that ravenous she-wolf?”

Marinette scoffed. “Damian, you’ll insult wolves with that comparison. I thought she resembled more of a hyena myself.” The woman certainly shrieked enough for it. “From what I saw, your brother probably ducked out at the first opportunity available to him.”

“True. Which leaves Todd, and nothing attracts his attention more than a spectacle. Especially when Drake stands chance to make a fool of himself.” Turning a corner they found themselves several yards away from the open-aired atrium. A crowd of people lingered around the railing looking into the courtyard below. Clapping and cheers fill the air.

“Shall we?” asked Marinette, excitement brewing in her chest.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” grumbled Damian. “But I suppose we must.”

Tag List (or you can subscribe and read it here on ao3)

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[danielxricciardo]

for the song prompt list #38 with max please 🥺

Summary: One sided love with Max Verstappen

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.7k

38. “You wouldn’t know love if it crushed your fucking chest.”

One-sided love is like waiting for something that is never going to happen. It is like looking into those eyes that will never look back into yours. It is like having someone in your heart but not in your arms. It is suffocating. It starts eating you from inside.

It starts from the moment you meet them. The eye contact that chills your spine, the butterflies somersaulting in your stomach, just the mere thought of them sends goosebumps all over your skin. Your eyes wander and you can't concentrate whenever they're around; despite feeling a little embarrassed for approaching them, you do so anyway and exchange numbers in the hope that at least a friendship will develop. I mean, they're cool, you're cool, you should hang out or something. Or whatever.

It becomes harder to remain nonchalant. Your moderate interest in this person turns into the non-stop checking of your phone to see if they've contacted you... absolute elation when they do, and utter, utter despair when they don't. But you keep telling yourself that it's cool, you don't even know them that well, and they probably don't even want to know you (otherwise they would be making an effort by now, right?).

They text you something vague and impersonal every once in a while, and this is enough to send your heart soaring into the sky. You respond straight away, and they don't. And as this continues, your self-esteem begins to drop, and you question everything.

Why aren't they contacting me? I expect they're just busy. Or is it me? Are three texts in a row too much? I don't wanna seem stalkerish... but I don't want to look like I don't care about them. Am I too fat? Would they prefer me if I lost weight, or had a car, or my own place? Probably. Why am I thinking about them? They'd never think about me like this.

It hurts, from the pit of your stomach to the backs of your eyes. You can't concentrate on anything. You forego activities with friends and family, to keep yourself available for this person just in case they want to meet up with you. You feel sick every day, your appetite drops, your enthusiasm for everything decreases, and you are left with the most bitter, raging emptiness you've ever felt in your whole life. And it's all your fault.

Despite the pain it causes you, you carry on quietly pursuing this person. You silently scream to yourself 'THEY'RE OUT OF MY LEAGUE! THEY WILL NEVER EVER WANT TO BE WITH ME! DON'T THINK ABOUT THEM!' but it's so overwhelming to hear yourself saying it that you try and ignore the voice of reason inside your head. Because right now, your heart is taking control, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You wish they were a part of you, that they could give you a chance, to let you be the best partner that you could possibly be. You wish you could hold them, and talk to them, and kiss them, and sleep beside them, and protect them... but you can't.

The reason you put yourself through all this pain, is a simple fact that you love this person so, so much. And even though the rational side of you is telling you to give up, a small, pathetic part of you says 'They might care about you one day...'

It hurts. Hurts real bad.

True Love doesn’t hurt. Expectations, possessiveness, insecurity, jealousy, and emotions do.

Memories don't hurt. Love doesn't hurt. It is the attachment that hurts. It is the expectation that hurts. It is the imagined future that is now broken that hurts.

Unrequited love hurts the most. You will love someone no matter what they have done to you and that someone may not love you back no matter what you do. That hurts. Those expectations hurt.

To love is always selfless and that feeling is always unconditional. Love is always unconditional. It may sting seeing him with someone else, but you will be happy for him for their happiness is more important to you when you truly love them.

When we lose someone that we love so truly and they walk out of your life for some reason, it hurts. This doesn't mean memories will haunt us. It is the collapsed future that hurts us. Living in the past with the ones we love brings us tears, not because that is lost, but because there was something that could have been forever, but it isn't now. That hurts. That stings and we tend to associate it with good memories. Sometimes we love people more than the memories they gave us. We fall for the person, not just for the memories. We love, we live life to create beautiful memories for us and the loved ones around us.

Expectations hurt in proportion to the emotional investment. Whenever we are too much attached to someone or something, we grow attachment and that attachment leads to expectations. These expectations when fulfilled are an awesome experience. But when we are too much emotionally invested and when those dreams aren't coming true, it stings and hurts and kills from within.

Getting over it is by forgiving and moving on with life accepting that you will never get over that true love. Forgiveness is your trait. It solely depends on you and not on the other person. You want to forgive them because you want peace of mind and don't want to hold grudges against anyone in your life.

Feelings and emotions are real. If you truly love a person, you will love them forever, even though they can't see you that way. That's why love is always unconditional. You love that person because you want to, not because you have that hope that someday he will love you back. If you just hope for being loved back, that's not love, to begin with, it is just some business deal. You love him because your feelings for him are real, deep, and true.

You met Max a long time ago. You were both in Formula 3 in 2014 and got along really well. You started to see each other outside of racing and after a while, you could call yourself friends. But you had feelings for him. Even before you get to know each other properly. You tried so hard to show him that you were interested in him, but nothing. Either he was oblivious or he was not interested in you. Either way, you were hurt, and that was seen in the way you competed. You lost your ambition, there were some days when you cried before the race because you didn't feel able to compete, and Max had no idea you were feeling that way because you wouldn't let him see you when you were at your lowest point.

You gave up racing and Max ended up competing in Formula 1. You weren't jealous of him, you knew you never had a chance to get there, but he deserved it, and all the hard work he put in helped him. You were with him, you encouraged him every time, on the phone, if you could not travel, or in person when he asked you to be with him.

'I need my best friend, Y/N, please. Can you come to the race on the weekend?'

And no matter how much it hurt you to hear that he considered you just his best friend, you wouldn't let your tears fall on your cheeks and tell him you'd be there for the weekend. Every time. It doesn't matter that you had something else planned, you never refused him.

"Oh my God, thank you so much for coming!" you heard Max. You look up and see your best friend coming towards you, ready to hug you. You instantly smiled. No matter how you would feel when you see him you can't help but smile.

"Of course I came. I wouldn't be anywhere else," you say and you are taken by surprise by the sincerity with which you uttered those words.

He takes you to meet some people and you were happy because he seemed well, he seemed delighted with his place there.

"Do you miss it?" you heard Daniel asking you, but you had no idea what he was talking about. "The racing," he continued as if he had read your thoughts and knew you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh," you shrug nonchalantly. "I mean, yeah, sometimes, but it's fine."

"Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly your mind is somewhere else. I thought it was because you were here and that brought back some racing memories, but it's different, isn't it?"

"Okay, Daniel, I appreciate the free therapy session, but I'm fine, seriously. I'm just happy to be here to encourage Max."

"Talking about me? Man, I'm feeling like a superstar," your best friend says coming between you. "I don't know about you guys but I want to get drunk."

"Are you even allowed to get drunk? It's Wednesday, don't you have press conferences tomorrow?"

"I'm in!" Daniel says and you roll your eyes. Of course he is.

Getting drunk with two boys you swear have ADHD was not a good idea.

Technically speaking, you weren't drunk, you drank a bottle of beer all night so you could take care of the two boys. Drunk Daniel was ok. He was not very agitated, he was even calmer than usual. He was sitting on the couch, laughing louder than usual, but it wasn't a cause of concern for you. Max on the other hand was a different story. Being drunk, he seemed very attracted to the balcony and that stressed you a lot. You tried to explain to him that it is dangerous on the balcony and that it is much more fun inside. You hardly convinced him.

"You're not funny at all, Y/N!"

"I'd rather know you're alive, Max."

Daniel went to bed at about 11:30 PM, but Max showed no signs of being tired. No matter how much you told him about tomorrow's busy schedule, he didn't seem to care.

You were lying on the couch, staring at the TV, and Max was on the floor, quietly for once. You wanted to ask him if he was feeling well, but he spoke before you could say something.

"Do you believe in love?"

Those five words knocked the air out of your lungs. Love? What made him ask you about love?

"Yes, I do," you answer and hope that he'll be satisfied with what you said.

"What is love anyway?"

"That depends, Max. Love is different for everybody."

"Well," he said and turns to look at you. "What is love for you?"

You sighed. What was love for you? Max. But you can't say that.

"Love is a broad term, Max. It can have different meanings for different people and can vary according to the context. At times love is synonymous with respect. At others, it is all about caring and sharing. At still others, it is a trail of concern, affection, and connection."

You didn't know you started to cry until Max kindly wiped off the tears on your face. Who would have thought that talking about love in front of the person you loved the most in this world would have made you cry? You whisper a 'thank you' to Max and get up to take a napkin from the kitchen.

"We're best friends, right?" you hear him coming towards you and he sits down on the kitchen chair.

"Sure," you answer, wiping away your tears.

"What you described. About love... I think I feel that for someone."

You heard something break and you were sure it was your heart. What you felt in that moment was what? Jealousy? This is human behavior. We, people, have the tendency to imagine ourselves with the person on whom we develop our crush. And this is totally normal, everyone does that.

Initially, it's all roses and unicorns. We start to imagine how our life would be with the other person, how we would treat them, what gifts we would give them, how we will take their pain away and how we will happily live after.

But life doesn’t work how we want it to work, does it? Then comes the second phase where we start to realize the differences between you and your crush, but still we hold on to it because in our minds that person is just too perfect to be wrong.

And then comes the thirds phase where we see our crush getting into a relationship with someone else. We even think that our crush doesn’t deserve that person, my crush deserves me! I’m better than that person. But that’s how it works, things fall apart. They break. That’s life. And at that moment, it broke your heart and you knew you want to know nothing about that other person. But you were hurt. He was drunk, yes, but you still had a crush on him, even if your feelings for him couldn't be reciprocal.

"That's... That's great, Max," you bit your lip to stop your tears from falling. "Let's go to bed."

"I think I always loved this girl but I never told her. Maybe I should," he giggles and you feel your blood boiling in your veins.

“You wouldn’t know love if it crushed your fucking chest,” you yell at him and you were sure Daniel was now wide awake. Max was watching you with wide eyes. "Stop talking about things you have no idea about," you shoot a glance at the clock. 12:25 AM. Looks like a lovely time to go for a walk in a foreign country you've never been to before. You collect your phone and wallet and march to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need fresh air. Go to bed."

"I'm coming with you, Y/N!"

You opened the door and left, not letting Max come after you. You started to run and in front of the hotel, you stopped. Where to now? You have no idea where you are or what is near the hotel, and you desperately needed to put some distance between you and Max.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Running like that? Are you crazy?" you hear a pissed Max behind you. You tried to wipe the tears in a desperate attempt to look like you haven't been bawling your eyes out. "What happened inside?"

"Nothing, Max."

"Let's talk about it. Please."

"Talk about it? Fine. Let's do it! What should I start with? The fact that I've had a crush on you for three years or should I give you some love advice for the girl you like?"

"Say that one more time," Max said, walking towards you.

"Say what one more time?"

"You liked me for the past three years?" he was now in front of you, feeling his hot breaths on your face, and you could smell the alcohol.

"That is not relevant."

"Why not? I should know if someone has feelings for me, no? At least that's what I deserve, I think."

"Stop being so fucking cocky, Verstappen. This is not a joke," you puffed. "Forget I said a damn thing," you started to walk back into the hotel.

"Well, if I have to forget what you said that means I'm not allowed to tell you that I've liked you too for the past three years, right?"

You stoped. He said what? You were dreaming. Maybe you were the one that drank a lot. You were drunk, that's the reason why you just heard Max confessing his feelings for you. Or maybe you were both drunk.

"Max, let's go to bed. You've had a lot to drink, maybe we'll talk in the morning if you remember anything."

He came to you and hugged you from behind.

"I know what I said. Sure, I've had a few beers to drink, but I know that what I'm telling you now it's the truth."

[levisgirll]

Hello! Can you please do a Levi headcanon/scenario where he hurts his crush's feelings and makes her cry but later regrets it and tries to apologise to her? Thanks!

𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫���𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 (𝙇𝙚𝙫𝙞 𝘼𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

➡text: Hello there!! And omg of course I would be happy to write this out 🥺 the fact that to see levi apologize or own up to his mistakes is something that I would like to even write about- so thank you for this request! I hope you love it anon ♥ (incoming some fluff and you wont regret it!)

synopsis:  it was a long tiring day and with under pressure levi ackerman had, he accidently said something to y/n (his crush!) which hurt her feelings. levi feels terrible and to make it up for it, made y/n realize that levi and her might share the same feelings for each other.

fluff, angst, aot world, imagine fanfiction ♡ —

It was a long stressful day at the Survey crops headquarters building, and Captain Levi was assigned with many paper work to get done with.

The last expedition made Levi worry quite a lot for Y/N and her safety. Sure she was skilled, and a fast thinker but that still did not stop Levi from worrying about her. It was because he was the captain he had to worry about his squad....right?

But after Y/N getting hurt on the last expedition because she is kind of ‘reckless’ to what Levi thinks and used as an excuse, his heart sank and he then realized not only did he care about her too much, but he also developed feelings for her and with time it grew. Just her presence, the way she was, caring, friendly, confident, her natural beauty and a badass made him fall for her more.

But ever since on that day, he blamed himself for her getting injured because she was on his squad team.

The upcoming expedition was next month and he was becoming even more stressed and load with paperwork because it was a bigger mission this time they never had. Y/N obviously noticed that so after having a chat with Hanji she went by to his office and entered inside. They become more comfortable with each other so she was pleased to enter his office whenever she wanted to.

“Hi Levi, how are you?” she said with a bright smile, trying to light up the mood that was surrounding in his office.

“What do you think sherlock?” He spoke in a sarcastic tone and then let out a deep sigh. “O-Oh, Um I was wondering if you would like some help with the paperwork? I am free the whole day.” Her kind gestures always somehow warmed his heart, he liked the fact how in her free time she would always visit Levi and try her best to help him. But tonight was different, it was too much pressure loaded on him, he was not thinking straight.

He didn't respond to her offer and instead he got up from his seat behind the desk and gave her a piece of paper. “Read.” Was what he only said.

You took the paper from him and noticed....you were removed him Levi’s squad! “W-What....why.” You said so quietly but it had a very unhappy tone.

“You know why. You are too reckless, and I don't want that in my squad.” He lied and looked away, it was not because of your recklessness and never was because you were brave and perceptive. But in fact, it was because he wanted to keep you safe and away from harm because this time his squad was placed on the front and he moved you all the way on the back where it was safer. He does not want to lose you.

“I-I don't understand Levi...I though you trusted me-”

“Yea I don't trust you, and I clearly don't have time for you either.” You couldn't believe what he was saying to you, this behavior was out of nowhere and it made absolutely no sense! But, he was your source of motivation and inspiration and when he said that to you, it shattered your heart to pieces. You thought he had faith and trust in you and that's why he added you to his squad, you thought....you were important to him. Well, was important.

“Levi, please this makes no sense. At least explain to me why!” You yelled out, demanding an explanation for what the hell was evening going on.

“Don't argue with me.” He now gave you one of his hateful glares, and you know in a million years you would never be getting that from him, you were completely taken aback now. “Leave now! That’s an order L/N”.

You eyes were widen now, and your eyes were slowly starting to tear up. These words, completely damaged you and your feelings, he even called you by your last name which he never does. You never felt so hurt and your stomach sank which left you static and....heartbroken. Hearing this is a ego-killer for you. The paper you held slowly fell off from your hand, and you brought your hand up to cover your eyes and started to softly sob.

He noticed that quickly, and he wanted to come and comfort you but before he could do that you stormed off, slamming his door, y/n never wanting to see his face again.

Levi took a moment to process everything and then realized he had actually messed up everything. Both of you were so close and the bond and moments you both shared, Levi cherished that deeply. But, he ruined everything, shattered the bond, and now actually ironically losing you. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes tightly, “Fuck...The fuck is wrong with me?! Why am I so damn emotional.” And it was a fact, he was that when he bottled everything up and then let out his steam saying some bullshit.

It was days, and he didn’t even see or hear about Y/N. He did not get any sleep, staying up, overthinking his stupid mistake and regretting this all. His gilt, anger towards himself and grief started to grow by each day, hating himself how he hurt the person he had a crush on and someone he adored a lot which then lead to him thinking how to come to you with his true and deepest apology.

He tried to catch any chance to get you whenever you are alone and say apologize, but whenever he saw you, you would just jolt and try to run away and leave the place.

He then noticed from Hanji and the other scouts such as Armin and Mikasa that you were clearly avoiding Levi. He caught you by chance one evening as you were sitting down in the mass hall eating your sandwich alone so cutely and he just missed seeing that sight whenever you both had breaks and he would watch you eat cheerfully but....you were so down, that spirt was gone.

He was approaching you, and you then noticed that and felt your stomach sink, ‘Is he coming to me? Wait...he is, it’s only me here!’ You thought in your mind, panicking and not knowing what to do.

”Good evening.” He uttered, but you noticed there was some nervousness in that tone.

You did not look up at him and you left your sandwich that was half eaten on the plate, and got up. You lost your appetite, and you proceed to leave the mass hall, but you stopped in your steps when you heard Levi yell out. “No...d-don’t go. Please just stay for a bit.” The way he said it, was under such pain and he it sounded as if he was begging you. He really struggled doing this, but he would do it regardless if it was just to speak to you again for a bit.

He caught up to you, and took your wrist while his thumb was caressing your skin. You were still looking down, not wanting to see his face because you knew if you did now, you would tear up again.

“Can we talk please?” He said really quietly, and if the mass hall was not empty you wouldn't be able to grasp what he had said. Levi was clearly tensed and not sure if what he was doing is right, he never done this before, apologizing and talking about his feelings. But he would only, and only do this for the person he loved. Y/N.

“What do you want?” it came out more coldly then you expected and that made him hesitate. He remembered the image of your expression and you sobbing that day and it is still graved in his mind. He cant seem to get it out his head and he wanted to hear your forgiveness so it could go away.

“I fucked up, I know. But fuck, I...miss you.” He finally said, in a nervous and stuttering tone. He now moved his hand from your wrist to your soft and cold hands, and you could feel his warmth, warming your hand.

He brought up his other free hand and placed his palm on his forehead. Clearly this was hard for him and he felt such a jerk and an idiot cause all his words is now gone and he wasn’t sure how to say how apologetic he was and how you meant the world to him really.

But he know thought, How could he do this to someone who regularly checked on him, cared for him and also actually saw him as a normal person unlike the other scouts who thought he was heartless and just labeled as ‘strongest solider’. Y/N was the only who truly cared for his wellbeing and he admired that a lot. “Hey....I’m sorry. Everything I said wasn’t right. T-To be honest it was your bravery that made me fall for you...and care a lot more about you. So, please tell me What should I do to make it up for you?”

This caused you to finally look up to him and staring at his grey eyes, and after such a long time you were able to see his face clearly and close up which never fails to make your heart skip a beat. You stared at him for quite awhile, kind of surprised to what he said and the fact he was holding your hand meant a lot. But Levi took this as you still not wanting to talk to him, he wanted to say more and better things but he was quite bad formulating any more cause it him nervous and afraid to say something else to upset you further. He really did care about your feelings. “I won’t go....till I hear your answer. I waited long enough.”

You spoke, and after a long time hearing your voice this nearly made him tear up and that was because you were a big part of his life. “I can’t stay mad at you forever, so I forgive you. But, you hurted me and I cant forget that easily. But for now, Just....hold me.” You went near him and now placed both of your hands on his chest. He did not waste any second and pulled you in for a hug. It was probably his first time hugging you like this and he never knew it would make him have this fuzzy and sweet feeling like this. Of course, he would hold on to your waist, arm and shoulders sometimes during battle or when you needed some support to get up and move. But this was different, and he questioned himself how he never considered that.

Y/N and Levi both finally made up with each other, and he was really grateful for that and even the fact you forgave someone like Levi, he felt really lucky.

Of course, it will take some time for you to accept his apology, but he wont give up just yet and he really makes an effort everyday, you guys took it slow and he is more than willing to wait for you ♥

As, regret and remorse can lead a person to feel sorrow, this can cause a sense of sorrow for hurting someone such as Levi’s crush, and even though it was bad, this lead to him finally confessing and saying his true apology if it weren’t for this. Time is a healing process after all.

Once you finally sat down with Levi and talked back (after the countless times he tried to initiate a conversation or start something such as cleaning together but never got much a reaction from you) and had a small conversation with him asking how was his day. This melted his heart and he actually felt really happy inside that you finally started to speak to him. He missed your company, your sweet voice, and....that smile.

You surprised him further when you gave him tea (because he gave you so many things to somehow make you smile) and his eyes lit up, Levi never felt so happy in the last few weeks. Then he knew, that you. y/n, was his light and source of happiness. He drank the tea slowly cherishing it.

wow okay this was kind of emotional then I excepted it to be, but I honestly see a scenario like this happening where levi struggles and tries his best to own up his mistake and apologize and he would only be like this if it was to his crush and someone he loved cause this man gets nervous <3 so please y/n, give him some more hugs, he might not seem to ask for any but he is deeply inside craving for it. It’s his best comfort as it is coming from you! Anyways, please leave a like or a reblog if you enjoyed this and I hope you liked this anon 💖