#I am SO uncomfortable and I don’t know what to do with this information

[cafecourage]

Speaking of sleepy, caring for sleepy Chain

-Softie

We worked on this on stream long ago. I also made this also one bed. Part 1 has Time, Twilight, and Warriors

_____________

There was a common issue among some of the chain where most all of them have the fatal flaw of not being able to sleep. Some had issues waking up like Sky, Wind, Four and Wild. You quickly found that Legend was among that group but given the incident he went into the latter issue. Which was annoying when dealing with. It was completely opposite problems.

Time:

It was always hard to tell if the Old man was tired as he seemed to be always absolutely exhausted. Which was fair enough since he was dubbed the dad friend in the group thus making him the main person to go to for everything. It’s a wonder how he hasn’t just slept for 7 more years yet.

Still the Hero of Time was probably 3 days in without sleep and thats what you observed. Granted you should have stopped him by day 2. But you weren’t sure if he slept on the days you seen him take first shift and wake up with him being on last shift.

The other boy’s notice it too and while they all appreciate the extra sleep it’s unfair for Time. Warriors is typically the only one that speaks up about it since he isn’t phased by the Older Link’s tough exterior. While it would be embarrassing in hindsight you had to drag Warriors aside to push for you and Time to be in the same room. “I have a plan” is what you tell the captain not letting him know that you in fact, dont have a plan.

Truly the plan is fist fight the old man until he actually sleeps, or lecture him whatever you feel like. At least you will be here in town for a few days to gather supplies and information. So you can at least fix Time’s sleep schedule.

You’re plotting came to an extreme halt as you step into a room with one bed. “This can work.” You say out loud as you dropped your stuff in a corner of the room. “We can share the bed.” It’s not even up for debate at this point.

“Can we?” Time asks as he closes the door “wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” That wouldn’t be the word you would use. “Nah. Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Then I can take the floor.”

The hero gives you a look, one to even dare you to say that again. “If you don’t mind, then I don’t see why fight over it.”

“It I am being real.” You stand up and stretched “you do need it more.” It has been decided. You are lecturing him. “When is the last time you slept a full 8 hours? Heck 6 hours I would accept.”

An eyebrow was raised as he heads inside “I have been fine with the sleep I’ve been getting.” He takes his armor off putting each piece down carefully before finally sitting on the bed. He pats the spot next to him.

You follow his lead as you prepare a long argument. “Ah, yes the zero hou- Ack!” What you didn’t expect was Time to drag you into his lap and lay down.

Your face exploded in a blush as you were now basically his teddy bear. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you also have trouble sleeping.” He whispered as he was already in the process of wrapping the both of you in the blankets. “Let’s take a nap for now…”

Well… This backfired successfully.

Twilight:

Twilight was one of these Links which, made sense but also didn’t when you found this out. He tries to older brother everyone, he makes sure everyone is asleep before he does. Which takes forever to do and your patience for this man is thinning.

After stopping in a town from a long trek. The group decides to go to the Inn to set up shop. You were already on Twilight to take a nap before dinner. “No. We are going to eat in like 30 minutes.”

Ok.

No.

He isn’t getting out of this and you don’t care you’re in the middle of the lobby. There was something that the chain has yet to learn about you.

You might be short.

But you are strong.

So you marched up to Twilight and despite his struggling you throw the hero over your shoulder and went directly to the room angrily. “Let me down!” Twilight demands of you. However you couldn’t care about it as you open the door kick it close and threw him on the bed. “That was unnecessary.” He said getting up.

“It was very necessary!” You argued back crossing your arms. “When is the last time you properly slept?”

Twilight stays quiet and looks away. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I get enough.”

“According to who? Because everyone else can make an argument that you’re barely getting any to function.” You let out a huff as you should probably be more lenient with him because it’s not really like he is doing something bad. You know from experience that the body could function with little sleep if it’s used to it but it’s not healthy! You didn’t go through classes with a clear mind but you should have! “We are just worried about you.”

The Hero stays quiet but sighs “ok. I understand.” He seems to give up at this point. But he reaches out to take your hand finally letting himself looked exhausted “but… can you stay with me?”

Your eyes soften as he seemed to be more tired than you thought. “Of course I will. Someone has to make sure you stay put.” He teases you.

Warriors: 

After a long day of traveling an inn was a welcoming sight. Since there were ten of you now each room had to have 2 people. Which was sometimes unfortunate for some, but for you in this current moment?

You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity since you (forcably) asked to be Warrior’s pair, only to have there only be one bed. 

Perfect.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

It was instant that you had grabbed Warriors tunic and almost thrown him on to the bed. “Didn’t know you wanted me on the bed that badly, doll.” He was laughing. This man was laughing and he looked like hell. Probably felt like it too as the ever polished captain was showing dark circles under his eyes. His smile was sluggish and his eyes weren’t as sharp as they normally were.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards him again to help him out of his armor. “You should take better care of yourself. 3 days of barely any sleep? What were you thinking?!”

“That the other boys need some sleep.” There was no hesitation as the stubborn man is proud of himself for killing his sleep schedule. “It’s fine.” “It is not fine.” You didn’t mean to throw his shoulder plate on the carpet. “You better take your chainmail off before I do it for you.”

“What if I rather you do it for me?” The captain fire back without missing a beat. Instantly his face paled “wait-“

“Nope to late come here.” You take his tunic and just… thew it off of him. “Do you want to continue?” This was a threat.

“no…” Warriors voice was silent as he finally got out of what armor he had left. “I should sleep on the floo-“ that suggestion was instantly silent as you glared at him.

Finally when both of you were ready for bed you had put your self on top of him. Cuddling but also if he was going to escape he will have to wake you up first. “this is so you don’t escape.” You said.

“I wont. I wont.” Warriors was a bit hesitant to wrap his arms around you “Thank you.” He whispered as he finally started to relaxed.

“Don’t rely on me to fix your sleep habits.” You said poking his cheek “good night Captain.”

“Good Night Sweetheart.”

#twilight (not lu) speaks #linked universe x reader #luxreader #linkeduniverse x reader #linkeduniverse #linked universe #monkey bread

[finelinevogue]

spreading the love

summary - harry’s fans LOVE you

pairing - fiancé!harry x reader

word count - ~2k

The fans absolutely loved you.

Probably more so than Harry sometimes.

You were often the subject headline of news articles that were actually about Harry. You were often asked about in interviews that Harry was doing. You were often stopped before Harry on the streets. Not that Harry minded in the slightest because, well, he understood.

Obviously, no one could love you more than he did but he understood the publics addiction towards you.

You hadn’t come from much and you weren’t a name people knew before you started dating Harry. Somehow, somewhere, along the way you had become a somebody.

And everyone adored you.

Whether it was your kind nature, you loving heart, your gorgeous smile or your generous soul, you never went unloved by anyone. Not even the cruelest hearted person could have anything bad to say about you.

You loved being involved with the fans too. You often gave a lot back to them just because they were the most dedicated and loyal people you knew.

You loved how much they loved your Harry.

“Hello, hello!” You tucked your hair behind your ear as you started your Instagram live.

Your viewers shot up from 3k to 104k in ten seconds - that’s how popular you had become with the fans and media.

“How are we all today? Feeling good? I’m feeling good since it’s a Friday. It’s my weekend off tomorrow.”

Everyone knew that you were an NHS nurse and did so much for the people you worked with and beside, which only added to the cause of people loving you.

ellaking107: what are you doing with your weekend off?💛

“Hi Ella! This weekend I am staying home with Harry. We have got a very boring weekend planned unfortunately. Our bathroom is having a redecoration and so we need to wait for the tile man to pop in at some point so he can start measuring up bits and pieces. I’m sure H will drag me for a run or to a pilates class too.”

You were situated in your lounge, lots of plants and good lighting surrounding you.

harryissmiling101: Where is Harry?

“Ummm, so Harry is currently at his mum’s. Maybe this is too much information, but his mum’s fridge broke and so all her food went off. Harry and I made loads of dishes though last night for her, so Harry’s dropped them all off along with a spare fridge we had. I know… Don’t ask why we had a spare fridge.”

You watched as you cat, Kira, came through the lounge door and hopped up onto the sofa you were sat on. You turned the camera so everyone could see her.

“My child says hello to you all. Don’t you Ki?” You began stroking her little black and white chin. “Oh you’re so gorgeous. I love you so much.”

haileyjudd: Harry or Kira?

“Hailey I can’t believe you’re even asking me that… Hailey said, choose between Harry and Kira. Honey, there’s no doubt about it. Obviously, Kira.” You laughed.

You knew some magazine would twist your words later and make it seem like you and Harry were going through a rocky patch in your relationship, but you knew the truth. Harry was completely whipped for you and there wasn’t a single chance he was leaving you. Ever. Then again, the feeling is very mutual.

Kira came closer to you and sat in your lap, nestling herself deep into the blanket you had draped over the top of you.

jammiiie: Are you single please?

“Hi Jamie, potentially.. maybe… Uh, no. I am not single and this will remain my answer indefinitely.” You smiled, thinking about how clingy Harry would get if you had read that out whilst he was say next to you.

Harry doesn’t get jealous, oh no.

He gets clingy. And you love it.

You love when he’s constantly doting on you; kissing you. He loved on you like he has to remind you your his (even though you always will be).

harriesassemble: Y/N can I ask you a question? My boyfriend told me that I have to shave (you know where) but I don’t feel comfortable doing that. How do I tell him? (Don’t answer if you feel uncomfortable)🤍

“Wait.. Hang on a second..” You spoke slowly, slowing the speed of the comments as you traced back to a comment that caught your attention.

“Hi, sorry I’m not sure what your name is, but I hope you are still here and know I’m speaking to you!“ You re-read out loud the comment posted so everyone knew what you were going to talk about. “So, first of all, girl to girl, if he is forcing you to do something as personal as shaving yourself then, my love, he’s not worth your time or breath.”

ophelialover: oh i am so here for y/n’s girl talk time

harrielover: y/n is so big sister coded

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to do. Do not force yourself to be making changes to yourself just to please a man, or any significant other for that matter. If Harry ever forced me to make a change to myself I didn’t want, he knows where the door is. Seriously, honey, you’re perfect and never change unless you want to.”

harriesassemble: Thank you!🩷

kingsofharry: You’re amazinf Y/N <33

justkeepdriving: WE LOVE YOU Y/N

liked by y/nl/nofficial and 1,976 others

harriesassemble i can’t believe y/n just followed me i am in shock right now :((( she’s my favourite person in the whole world and everything they said to me this evening was just so special:(( im shaking so bad i love y/n so much❤️

view all 394 comments

harryfan1 OH THIS IS SO COOL

harryfan2 omg you were who y/n was talking to??? congrats!!!!!

y/nl/nofficial You’re amazing!💛

harryfan3 we stan y/n

••••••••••

London was quite busy today.

Lots of tourists bustling through the city as well as the daily commuters wandering around on their lunch breaks.

Harry had decided to take the afternoon off since you also had it off, organising to take you for a bite to eat and a coffee at your favourite cafe.

It was a cafe bookstore, so you got to browse books whilst waiting for your food and then got to sit amongst the books whilst you ate. It was a dream fantasy of yours as a child and you’re grateful someone brought that fantasy to life.

Harry held your hand securely as you wandered through the London streets.

Luckily Harry had secured a paparazzi ban years ago that meant that no paps were legally allowed to take photos of Harry in London, so it was just fan photos that you had to be aware of.

“Angela asked me to give her your number again today.” You said to Harry.

“She’s relentless.” Harry laughed.

“She just wants to know when her future grandson-in law is going to become her in-law.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before - I’m not asking until I’m ready.” He squeezed your hand.

“No, I know. I just want Nana Angela to be alive when we get married.”

“She will be. I promise.”

You both came to a stop at a red pedestrian light. Harry pulled you back slightly, because he knew that you liked to stand far too close to the edge of the pavement.

You looked up to Harry, watching as he took in his surroundings through a pair of brown sunglasses.

“C’mere a minute.” You said, directing his head to face you.

You reached up and unclipped your claw clip from his hair and ruffled the locks until he had a messy middle parting. You bit the clip between your teeth as you messed with his hair.

“What was wrong with m’hair?” He chuckled.

“Prefer it down like this.” You shrugged your shoulders and clipped the claw clip to the top of your jumper.

You smiled at your handy work.

He looked even more handsome now.

As you crossed the road, you spotted someone with a Love on Tour tote bag. It was one of the newest ones. It was being carried by a girl in her early 20s, maybe.

You poked Harry and pointed him towards the girl.

“She had good taste in music.” He joked.

You didn’t mean to follow this girl, but only happened to stop at another pedestrian red light next to her. You stood beside her and noticed she had headphones on.

You couldn’t help yourself from nudging her shoulder. As you prodded her, she gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth in shock. She quickly took off her headphones and giggled a hi out.

“Love the tote bag!” You smiled brightly.

“Ha ha thank you! Oh my God I can’t believe you’re actually here right now.” She laughed.

“Yup. Both of us.” You pulled Harry a little closer into you.

“Hi, you alright?” He spoke shyly, as ever when he is introduced to someone new.

“This isn’t real! Holy shit.” The girl laughed the situation off. “I was nearly not going to wear this tote bag today as well.”

“Well it must be a good luck charm then.” You laughed. “Which show did you go to?”

“Wembley night 4.”

“Ahh!! The best one then!” You exclaimed, Harry chuckling from behind you.

You always did this.

You managed to make friends with absolutely anybody on the streets, over the smallest of connections. You especially loved making friends with Harry’s fans.

“Well I think so, but I might be biased.” She shrugged.

“It was one of our favourite shows, wasn’t it H?” You nudged him into the conversation, knowing that he struggles with that.

“Yeah definitely. Wembley was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.” He nodded with a smile, looking at you more so than the girl. “I’m glad you enjoyed it and thank you for the support, it means a lot.”

You internally smiled at the small spiel that you had prepped with him for occasions where he might bump into a fan.

“What was your favourite part?” You asked curiously.

“Sign of The Times in the rain.”

“Oh stop! You’re going to make me force Harry into to going on another tour ASAP just to experience that again.”

“Oh, because of course I can control the rain too love.” Harry laughed, which made you both chuckle with him.

“Shut up.” You judged him in the ribs. “Well it was lovely to meet you…”

“Emma.”

“Emma.” You smiled.

“Thank you for your continued support, Emma.” Harry added. “Would you like a photo?”

“Uh.. Y-yes? Yes please! If that’s okay with you?” Emma politely checked.

“Of course. Just as long as you wait a little bit to post it so our location isn’t instantly publicised.”

“Yes. Of course! Thank you.”

“Here, honey, give me your phone.” You held out your hand, thinking that she would have wanted you to take a photo of just her and Harry.

“You have to be in it too, Y/N!” Emma exclaimed.

“Yeah, Y/N/N.” Harry rolled his eyes at your silliness. “C’mere.” Harry roped his arm around your waist and brought you to stand slightly in front of him. Emma was directly next to you and you all smiled as she lifted her arm to take a selfie. Harry’s cheek was pressed near against yours.

“They okay?” Harry asked.

“Perfect. Thank you guys so much.” Emma smiled so brightly.

After you parted ways you couldn’t help but imagine how electric Emma must be feeling right now. Harry seemed to be happy too, because you were happy after such a heartwarming conversation.

Positive interactions just made for better days.

Later, Emma would post that photo and the comments were even more wholesome.

comment 1: the way y/n and harry are stood so close to each other

comment 2: the fact harry has his literal cheek pressed against y/ns makes me WEEP

comment 3: they look so happy i will cry

•••••••

Another place where you would find wholesome content from the fans was the world of social media.

Normally, with Harry’s previous relationship’s, they would get absolutely hated on social media. There would always be something that would get dug out from someone’s past which meant they weren’t “right” for Harry. All of it was bullshit and Harry’s previous relationships had ended because he never felt “right” with anyone.

Until you.

You were now sat with Harry’s family around a small fire pit in Anne’s back garden.

Her lovely house had a beautiful garden that was perfect for dinner evening drinks and conversations. You often think about returning here with Harry and his last name one day.

“Top up, Y/N?” Anne asked, holding out the bottle red wine up to your wine glass that empty on the table.

“Oh, no thanks Anne.” You warmly smiled.

You were comfortably nestled in Harry’s lap with a blanket drawn over the two of you. Harry was nursing his own red wine with one hand, whilst the other supported your back from where you were sat sideways across his legs. Your head was nuzzled just below his chin and your hands were busy fiddling with his necklaces.

“You okay, m’love?” Harry asked you, so only you could hear.

“Mhm. Wine has made me sleepy.”

“Rest if you need to, i’m right here.” He kissed the top of your head.

You pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and opened it up to Twitter.

You followed a multitude of Harry’s fans on Twitter, simply for the shits and giggles. It had become a challenge to see who would be the next person that you would follow.

Scrolling through Twitter you noticed a lot of people reposting a photo of you and Harry that got leaked today. You were both simply walking through the park, but the photo clearly showed you wearing Harry’s hoodie and everyone was screaming over it.

harriesunite: these are my parents

“H, baby, look.” You giggled as you showed him the tweet.

“Hmm?” He tucked his face down into your neck as he read your phone, and leaving your neck warm after he laughed.

“You’re such a dad, apparently.”

“Not yet I’m not.” He kissed your exposed neck, but only once when he remembered he was sat in front of his mum.

“Y’want to be?” You turned your head a little to the side to see him better.

“Whenever you want to be a mum, yeah.” He smiled so brightly.

“Soon.”

“Yeah, soon.” Harry nodded in agreement.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #fic rec harry styles #harry styles fluff

[slytherinshua]

MY FIRST LOVE

genre. fluff. warnings. mention of sungchan proposing like twice lmao?? pairing. sungchan x fem!reader. wc. 960. request. requested by anon: sungchan finding out he's your first love? a/n. skdjsk cute fluffy requests <33 esp for riize omg :( congrats anon, you made sungchan wreck me now 👹

“I don’t think I went out with girls that much before I met you. I got a lot of love confessions in school, though. Had my fair amount of crushes on girls, too.” Sungchan said as he scrolled through his phone. The conversation had been brought up naturally as you were doing your hair for your date tonight. 

“Did you like any of them better than me?” You asked, sort of as a throwaway question. Though, you were slightly curious. You had your own insecurities about relationships. You had never had proper crushes before— you never had time for it in high school. It wasn’t until college that you met Sungchan and fell in love for the first time. He was your first everything. First crush, first kiss, first boyfriend, first love. You hoped you were comparing to his past girlfriends. He seemed happy with you, but you had never really asked him.

Sungchan scowled, looking up from his phone to look at you through the mirror on your vanity, “What kind of a question is that? I barely remember them.”

“How do you forget your past girlfriends?” You frowned, confused at how that was possible. You definitely couldn’t imagine ever forgetting Sungchan if you broke up with him in the future. You hoped that would never happen, though. You didn’t need to have dating experience to know that Sungchan was one of the best men you would ever find.

Your boyfriend just shrugged, “I don’t know. I think I always knew that it wasn’t going to last. I could never see a future with them, no matter how hard I tried. It was inevitable that we were gonna break up eventually.”

You hummed in thought, “Then… Am I not like that?”

He giggled, “You’re so cute. No, you’re not like that. I know I have a future with you. I want to marry you someday, you know.” He said it so easily, smirking at the way your cheeks grew instantly red. You really didn’t know that because this was the first time that Sungchan had given you that little piece of information.

“What about you? How do I compare to your past boyfriends?” He asked to change the subject slightly, seeing how flustered he had made you.

You suddenly got nervous. Your boyfriend wasn’t the type to judge you, but you just had so many experiences of being judged for being single in the past. “You’re still single in your twenties?” or “You didn’t date at all in high school?” were the most common questions thrown your way. It always felt like something you should be ashamed of. Boys must’ve not thought you were pretty enough to ask out, or maybe it was something wrong with your priorities. You shouldn’t have put your studies over dating for all those years.

You had finally found solace from that uncomfort when you proudly could say that Sungchan was your boyfriend. Your old friends who had once questioned why you didn’t have a boyfriend seemed impressed with Sungchan, which gave you a much needed confidence boost.

“I… haven’t really…” You mumbled, your response crumbling before it could finish being told; your shoulders sinking in embarrassment.

“Hm?” You glanced at your boyfriend through the mirror, finding his gaze soft and eager to hear what you were going to say.

“I haven’t dated before this. You’re my first ever boyfriend.” 

Sungchan looked shocked, and then his face bloomed with joy, “Really? I’m your first boyfriend?!” He asked excitedly. You nodded, still a little embarrassed. “How!? I mean I’m happy— unbelievably happy— that I’m your first, but how did no one want to date you before? You’re the prettiest girl on the planet!” He insisted, and you only blushed more.

“I don’t know… No one ever did.” You murmured.

“Did you have crushes?” He asked, the grin never leaving his face. His excitement was contagious, and you eventually smiled as well.

“No, not really. Not until I met you.” You laughed.

“That’s crazy…” Sungchan giggled. He couldn’t ignore the elated feeling in his chest, buzzing with a million butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t felt so happy since he had first kissed you. 

Sungchan would never let it go after that. Whenever there was an opportunity to bring it up, he would be reminding you that he was your first love (as if you could ever forget). He’d try to use it to get things he wanted as well— though, mostly hugs or kisses.

“You shouldn’t reject a hug from me because I’m your first love!” 

“Your first love is sad and needs kisses.”

Particular times when he would use it at just the right moment, softly whispering into your ear that he was your first love and about how much he loved you, it would make your heart race. It was no longer something to be insecure about, thanks to Sungchan. Now, it was something you would always be glad of.

After all, there was something magical about only ever having one person that you had given your heart to. And Sungchan took extremely good care of it. He treasured your entire being with everything he had, and exactly a year after he first found out he was your first, he proposed to you. He had always said it was inevitable to happen. Even though you weren’t his first, you still felt like it. He had never been in love with someone as intensely as he was with you, and he made sure you knew that. Even when he had put a ring on your finger and was absolutely certain that you were his for the rest of time, he still liked to make sure that you knew just how much he loved you.

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr

#slytherinshua fics 🍰 #k-labels #sungchan #jung sungchan #riize #riize sungchan #riize jung sungchan #riize fic #riize fluff #riize fanfic #sungchan fluff #sungchan fic #sungchan fanfic #sungchan x reader #riize x reader #riize sungchan x reader #jung sungchan fluff #jung sungchan fic #jung sungchan fanfic #jung sungchan x reader #riize jung sungchan x reader

[dollwrites]

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

kazutora doesn’t tell you he has a hidden piercing. oh no, he’d rather it be a surprise.

his car is still running, albeit thrown in park outside your apartment building. you’re leaned over the console, lips locked with his in a heated battle for dominance. your hands, which had previously gripped his hair, now fondled their ways downwards, from tugging at the neckline of his black tee to palming the shape of his bulge in his sweats. “fuck,” he pants into your mouth, grabbing your wrist and pulling it underneath the elastic band. his tongue rolls over yours, and a hot gust of breath tickles your countenance the moment you feel him. “more. feel me. here.”

of course, he wasn’t wearing underwear.

the warmth of his sex was too inviting, and you quickly sought out his base, wrapping your hand around it. you wanted to feel how sturdy he was, and how rigid his veins were. the way he barely fit in your hand had you whimpering into his mouth, your palm gliding upwards, massaging the tender underside, inch by inch, rubbing up to the tip.

“you’re so—“ It was a breathy, happy start. big. hard. either one of those two words could’ve come out, but instead your breath caught when your thumb ran towards the head to tease his slit, and you felt warm metal. you ran the pad of your thumb along a thin, metal crescent, roughly 2mm around, that hooked in through the slit and poked out along the flare of the underside of the tip, just above the frenulum. you were stunned at first, your eyes wide. you didn’t know what to say. “you have a…”

“you like it?” kazutora whispers, and he leans back in the seat, abandoning your swollen lips, panting, and grabbing the hem of his sweats to pull them down. his cock springs free, and smacks against his taut, lower abdomen, the silver ring glittering as it catches the headlights of passing traffic as they fill the cab of his car with flitting flashes of light. he glances down at it, and then back up at you with a ragged grin. he must’ve seen the way your eyes seemed to light up with curiosity and awe. “you can play with it.”

and you do, as gingerly as you could, afraid that it must be uncomfortable. however, when you gently pushed, smearing the very tip of your thumb over the silver, kazutora moaned, and rested his head against the back of his seat.

“Does it really feel… good?” you almost can’t believe how pink his cheeks turned until he looked at you, flushed and breathing heavily. there’s a faint smile that tugs at his lips as he runs one hand up to hold your jawline, cradle the shape and guide your face closer.

“Feels good,” he assured you in a heavy sigh, but he drags his mouth over yours, humming in a way that you know it was more of an invitation than information, his golden eyes closed under a rush of pleasure, “but it feels so much better when pretty girls give it sloppy, little kisses.”

#doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡ #OH LOOK ITS MY MAN #magu really blessed me with this idea and I haven’t slept right since #kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #Kazutora smut #kazutora x you #kazutora headcanons #kazutora hanemiya smut #tokrev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers smut

[freedomfireflies]

Three to Make Ready*

Summary: The third part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

One of his suggestions?

Piercing your nipples.

Word Count: 5.4k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Deep breath for me, Peach, yeah?”

You attempt to obey his instruction, exhaling as calmly as you can. But the next intake of air catches in your throat as Mr. Styles runs the needle through the flame of your lighter.

He’s already convinced you to do quite a few things you wouldn’t have considered before.

But piercing your nipples has to take the cake.

When his request is met with silence, his eyebrow cocks up, and he looks over. “What did I just say, hm?”

“To breathe, yeah. I just, uh…kind of forgot how.”

He chuckles as he crawls back over to where you lay on the bed, newly sterilized object in hand. “Do you doubt me?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you retort through a thick swallow. “I wasn’t expecting nipple piercer to be on your resume.”

“Funny.” He takes the ice cube from you. “For your information, I happen to be a man of many talents.”

“Clearly.”

“Yes. So, you have nothing to worry about. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? You pierce a lot of your client’s nipples?”

He smirks. “Only the good ones.”

With a rather stressed laugh, you settle back into the pillows, heart racing the closer he brings his tools.

In turn, he scoots a bit closer as well, eyes falling to your chest before his chin juts up. “Gonna have to take them out.”

“Oh. Right.” You glance down and hook your finger around the lacey covering over your breasts, gently pulling until your tits pop free. “Uh…there?”

He grins, attention flicking back to your face. “You seem nervous.”

“Gee, really? What was your first clue?”

“Your voice is shaking.” He nods at your arms. “And so are your hands.”

“Yeah, well…getting stabbed with a needle isn’t exactly a talent of mine.”

“You’ve been pierced before, haven’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. But not in my nipple.”

“It’s no different than a clamp,” he responds, moving toward your right breast. “Perhaps a bit more uncomfortable, but I know you can handle it.”

Your eyes narrow. “Yeah? And how exactly do you know that?”

A beat as a teasing smile tugs at his lips. “Because you like pain.”

Shit.

He brings the ice cube closer, running it gently down your feverish skin before encircling the hardened bud and coating it with the melting liquid. 

You hiss, back arching, and features twisting into a wince as you squirm back. “Oh, shit—”

“Easy,” he warns quietly, but he seems entertained. “This is just the ice.”

“I know, and it’s cold.”

“Gee, really? What was your first clue?”

You scoff. “Not funny. God, are you done?”

“What? You don’t like it?” he retorts, continuing to hold the freezing object over your sensitive skin. “Thought you’d be into something like this.”

“I…I am, I just…it’s cold.”

“Yes, you mentioned. Do you not like temperature play?”

You hesitate. “I mean…this is different.”

“Is it? It’s ice.”

“Yeah, but…normally it’s not followed up with a needle.”

He laughs again, eyeing your hardening nipple with great intrigue and calculated focus. “Relax, Peach. I know what I’m doing.”

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Good girl,” he hums as your heart suddenly lurches in your chest. Then, he pulls the melting cube of water away from your body and brings it to your mouth. “Hold this for me, yeah?”

A tad stunned, you nod mutely and part your lips to take the ice between your teeth.

He’s pleased, smiling to himself before he continues his work on your breast. He plucks the nipple between his fingers and rolls it around a time or two, pinching hard in order to stimulate the nerves and make sure it’s ready.

“Are you breathing?” he asks quietly, sneaking a glimpse of your cautious expression.

You nod again, muscles going lax as you anxiously await contact.

With this assurance, he brings the needle to the pebbled bud, studying it with the utmost concentration as he smooths the skin out in order to create space.

“Ready?” he whispers, and your throat goes dry.

“Ready,” you stammer around the cube between your lips. So quietly, you’re surprised he hears you at all.

But he does, and he offers you a look of encouragement before he brings the sharp tip closer.

The sting is no worse than that of a bee, perhaps slightly more prominent. But even with your high pain tolerance, you can’t help gasping some as you feel the needle pierce through to the other side.

“Shit,” you murmur, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling in an effort to keep yourself from looking. “Oh, that’s…god—”

“You all right, Peach?” he asks calmly.

“I’m…I…yeah,” you manage, teeth grinding into the hard block of ice. “Fuck—”

“Easy,” he reminds you, now leaning some of his weight on your leg as if to discourage you from moving. “Hold still, yeah?”

“Yeah…sorry—shit.”

He reaches over for the only earring you had available, getting it into position so he can slide it through. “I’ll pick up the correct bar tomorrow,” he decides. “But until then, this should do.”

Once secure, he leans back to admire his work. “There. Easy.”

Venturing a glance, you look down as well, and notice the shiny, gold hoop glinting in the light from your tit. “…huh.”

His eyebrow raises. “What?”

“It’s…pretty,” you admit, cheeks warming some. “I like it.”

He grins, reaching back up to take the ice from your mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You swallow the extra liquid before running your tongue over your lips. “You were right.”

“Always am,” he retorts coolly before he’s bringing the frozen water back to your other breast. “Still doing okay? Need a break?”

“No. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Good.” He hums again, repeating the previous task of running the cube over your skin. “Doing really well, Peach.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And you behave. How nice.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“Incredibly well,” he concedes, and it does something strange to the butterflies in your gut. “I knew you’d make an excellent business partner.”

“Ha.” You squirm a bit under the cool trailing of ice across your chest. “I think you just like bossing me around.”

“I like watching you obey,” he corrects smugly. “And I like watching you grow more confident with yourself. And with me.”

“Sure, sure. And it has nothing to do with the fact that my pussy was on full display?”

“Oh, was it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Very funny. Now who’s got jokes?”

“Like I said. I’m a man of many talents.”

Again, he stimulates your breast a bit before smoothing it back and lining the needle up just so.

And again, you keep your focus anywhere else but his hands, instead content to stare at the bridge of his nose as he goes.

It’s quite a nice nose. One that you’d absentmindedly run your finger down. That you’d boop before pressing a kiss to the tip. 

You don’t imagine he’s into that kind of affection, but your mind wonders about him anyhow. You ponder what his behavior might look like with somebody he cares about. Somebody he loves. If he’s just as calculated or if he loosens up a bit. If he shares his darkest secrets and devotes his time to caring for them.

You rarely see him slip. Sometimes he drinks but even when fully inebriated, he’s still the thoughtful man you’ve come to know. Or when he’s tired, or stressed, or aggravated. Everything he does is carefully concise. He doesn’t lose his temper. He doesn’t sulk or throw tantrums. He rarely raises his voice and he’s never one to belittle somebody for a mistake.

A few of the many reasons you admire him.

“There,” he declares, and you blink yourself back to reality only to realize that he’s finished, and the second hoop is in place. “Done.”

He sits up, removing his weight from your legs, and a part of you is sad to feel him go.

Nevertheless, you push up as well, wincing some as the residual ache begins to settle. “Fuck—”

“It’s gonna be sore for a bit,” he tells you, taking the cube of ice from between your teeth and popping what’s left of it into his own mouth. “Take some Aleve and wear loose clothes. Swelling should go down in a bit.”

You watch him stand, eyebrows raised. “Uh…okay. Now what?”

He’s studying you. In that same way he had the other day in his office. Focus solely on your tits as he sucks on the frozen water with a wry smile.

“You look good, Peach,” he says again, and your lashes flutter. “Really good. S’might be my best work yet.”

“Glad to hear it,” you tease before clearing your throat. “So, um…are we…are we done? Is…I’ll just edit the video and we’ll…I’ll see you at work?”

You’re not sure why you feel so…awkward but what else could he possibly expect of you? He’s essentially done what he came to do and now…

Now what?

He chuckles, tucking the ice into his cheek. “Yes, I’ll see you at work,” he agrees before hesitating. “I just wanna do one thing first.”

Shit. “Oh, uh…yeah? What’s…what’s that?”

He turns around and strides back over to your desk, hand outstretching for your Polaroid camera. “Think we need something to remember the occasion by.”

You can feel the way your pulse goes stagnant, a breath catching in your throat. “…yeah?”

“Yeah.” He studies the settings before turning to you. “And it’s something else you can post if you’d like.”

There’s a strange sort of rush between your legs as Mr. Styles steps up to the edge of the bed, Polaroid in hand.

“Is that all right?” he asks, finger poised over the shutter release.

You nod so quickly, your head begins to ache. “Yes. Yeah, that’s…mhm.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. Amused. “Lay back for me, honey.”

You do, resettling into the pillows, careful not to move too much. “Like…this?”

He nods, lifting the camera and hovering it near his chest so he can peek through the viewfinder. “Yeah, just like that. Arch your back.”

You do as instructed, lifting from the bed until your tits are a bit more prominent.

“Good. And let your hands kind of…rest,” he suggests. “Maybe one just above, one just below. It’ll help draw in the attention.”

“Are the bright, gold hoops through my nipples not enough?”

He chuckles. “Having your hands in the frame reminds people of what your hands can do. How they might squeeze, or pinch, or pull. How you’d look playing with them as you squirm and gasp for more.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Oh…right. Smart.”

With shaky arms, you gently lay your palms near your breasts, framing the handiwork as Mr. Styles leans closer.

“There you go,” he murmurs, peering through the camera. “Just like that, Peach. So fucking pretty.”

The flash goes off, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath as the photo slowly begins to slide out with a mechanical whir.

Pleased, Mr. Styles leans back, slipping the image free before placing the Polaroid back on your desk. “Perfect.”

“Good,” you whisper, biting the inside of your lip. “Good, yeah…”

Sensing your hesitancy, he smirks. “You did good, Peach. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday. Right.” You clear your throat as you sit up. “Good. Yeah. I’ll…yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes playfully before nodding his goodbye and slipping from the room.

Eventually, you hear your apartment door open and shut, leaving you alone yet again.

And left to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

Your greeting is met with nothing more than a short, almost unperceivable nod as you make your way into his office, a coffee in one hand and his schedule in the other.

“Morning,” he mumbles, eyes flicking across his computer screen as you approach and place the hot drink on his desk. “You’re late.”

“I am. Sorry.” You take a seat in front of him, notebook landing in your lap. “I, uh…had a weird start to my day.”

He says nothing. Doesn’t even glance over. All he does is offer the raise of his eyebrow, his sign for you to continue. 

So, you do. 

“I posted the, uh…the picture? That you took?” you explain quietly, glancing around the empty room almost as if you expect someone to be listening. “Which was great, by the way. Really nicely done. The framing…and all that.”

He smirks.

“Anyway, and I, um…I got a message,” you continue slowly. “From another creator. On OnlyFans.”

Still, he’s distracted, replying with a nonchalant, “Okay.”

“He…he asked if I wanted to maybe collab,” you tell him. “Do a…short video together. Or something. Maybe…maybe make it a series?”

The rapid typing on his keyboard suddenly stops as his attention drifts to you. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers strum rhythmically along the notepad. “I’ve seen a couple of his videos before. He’s good. And he’s got an impressive following.”

Mr. Styles blinks, seemingly unfazed. “All right.”

“Yeah, so…” You shift. “Yeah. What do you…what do you think?”

He leans back in his seat, focus now directly on you. “What do I think of what?”

“Of…him. The idea. Collaborating.”

His head cocks. “Are you asking my permission, Peach?”

Are you? “I’m…yes? No? I don’t…I just want to know if you think it’s a good idea.”

He considers this, humming to himself as he places his elbow on the arm rest. “Are you asking me as your boss or as your investor?”

“Uh…the second one?”

“As your investor, I don’t think it can hurt. More exposure means more subscribers. It helps elevate your content and gives them something they haven’t seen from you before.”

“And as my boss?”

“As your boss, I’m legally obligated to direct you to HR.”

You smile, eyes glancing down toward your folded hands. “Right.”

The large office grows quiet.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he adds, leaning forward. “This is your business. Your body. Your choice. My input is nothing more than mere suggestion. It’s not rule.”

“I know, I just…you’ve been right so far,” you sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it. And I like what we’ve…created. But I’ve never made a video with anybody else before. I mean, not like what he’s suggesting anyhow.”

“Are you opposed to the idea?”

“Honestly? No. He’s nice. We’ve spoken briefly before, and he made sure to let me know we would create a safe environment.”

Mr. Styles nods, considering this. “Are you attracted to him?”

You blink. “I mean…I don’t…I don’t know? He’s…cute. Yeah. Sure.”

“Can he fuck?”

You lean back. “What?”

“Can he fuck?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“You said you watched his videos. Did it seem like he knew what he was doing?”

“I guess? What does it matter?”

“It matters because if he can’t, you’ll spend the entire scene having to fake your moans, and I don’t think that’s very fair.”

You ponder this. “Okay, well. I’m pretty sure he can.”

“Do you think he’d be worth your time?”

“I don’t…know. I guess? If anything, it gets me out of my comfort zone.”

“All right. Last question.” He leans his weight on the desk and meets your eye. “Do you want to?”

You take a beat before answering. You honestly aren’t sure. You used to think you didn’t want anything, but Mr. Styles changed that for you. And you realized earlier this morning that you don’t think it will ever feel like it did with him. Comfortable, and safe, and…right? 

You don’t understand any of it.

“Yes,” you finally say. “I do. I just…I think I’m nervous.”

“Then take your time to find your nerve,” he suggests. “Get to know him first. Discuss how you’d like the scene to play out. The technicalities, the boundaries, the point.”

You groan a bit as you flop back into your chair. “God, it was so much simpler with you.”

The dark hairs of his eyebrow quirk up. “How so?”

“I don’t know. It just was.” You shrug. “You showed up, you told me what to do…it was nice. I already knew you. Felt comfortable with you. It wasn’t about the camera or the technicalities. It was just about…pleasure.”

He nods. “How it should be.”

“Right. And I liked it. I liked how…normal it felt? In a sense?’ 

He’s amused by this. “Sex only works if you’re comfortable.”

“Agreed. It would be so much easier with you.”

The statement seems to catch you both off guard as you clear your throat and glance at your shoes.

“I mean…you know what I mean,” you mumble, shifting some. “I…yeah. I’ll just…I’ll message him and work something. Great…great talk.”

You feel him watching you. Eyes raking over every inch of your fame before he straightens up.

“Peach,” he calls, pulling your attention back. “Come here.”

Your head tilts. “What?”

“Come,” he repeats, motioning you closer with a jut of his chin.

Confused, you stand, allowing your feet to carry you to his side of the desk as he scoots back to create room.

Once settled before him, he travels his focus up to your face. “How are they?”

“How are…what?”

“The piercings.” 

“Oh.” You both glance toward your chest. “Uh…good? I think? They don’t hurt as much anymore. Still a little tender, though.”

He nods. “Show me.”

Despite the chill that travels straight to your cunt, you swallow. “I’m sorry?”

“Show me,” he repeats. “Let me make sure they’re healing right.”

A ruse if you’ve ever heard one, but you can’t deny the small inkling of intrigue as you reach for the buttons on your blouse.

You pop them free, slow, and deliberately as he watches. The office is quiet but the tension in the air is palpable. 

When you get to the last one, something in his expression shifts.

“Peach…” he begins slowly, almost as if warning you.

Your smile is innocent.

His large hands outstretch for the silky shirt, gingerly pushing it back and down your shoulders until your torso is revealed to him.

The air is cool against your bare chest, your nipples even more prominent now with the delicate jewelry catching the light outside his large window. It sends yet another shiver rippling across your nervous system as you twitch beneath his touch.

He hums. “Think you forgot something,” he muses, steady palms ghosting over your ribcage.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Your voice is nonchalant and blasé. “Well, you said loose fitting clothes. Thought wearing something so…tight would defeat the purpose.”

He’s amused. “So you came into my office with no bra, hm?”

“Seems like I did.”

He begins to pull you closer, legs parting to create the space you need to stand. “And how do they feel?”

You look down at him, heart in your throat. “Uh…like I said, a little tender, but…fine.”

He’s nearly eye level with your tits and his concentration is resilient. “How about when you touch them?”

A breath catches in your lungs. “Um…when I…I haven’t. Really.”

His fingers lift, thumb gently and oh-so delicately stroking under the swell of your breast. “How’s this, hm?”

Your muscles stiffen. “Um…good?”

He looks up. “Is that a question or an answer?”

“An…answer?”

His eyebrows raise.

“An answer,” you repeat, sucking in a quiet inhale. “It’s…fine. It’s good, yeah.”

He nods before you feel him move up. “And this?”

He’s getting closer, hand gently cupping your tit and squeezing it softly. 

Your lashes flutter, knees suddenly going weak. “Good. Fine. Mhm.”

He hums again before the tip of his finger ghosts across the piercing.

You jolt, a soft gasp slipping between your lips as you subconsciously push yourself into his touch.

He smirks. “Good, then?”

“Mhm,” you repeat, nodding quickly as you swallow a whine. “Really…good. Yes. Good.”

He holds you in his hand for only a moment longer…before he’s letting go and scooting back.

“Still sensitive,” he muses. “But that could just be you.”

You force a laugh as you pull your blouse back up and begin redoing the buttons. “Well…what can I say? I’m a peach.”

It’s an awful attempt at a joke but Mr. Styles smiles anyway, nodding for you to return to your seat so you can begin going through his schedule.

The next week carries on as usual. You set up meetings, return emails, and help your boss divvy up his itinerary for the next few months. 

You rarely chat about his…investment. In fact, the topic is hardly broached at all except for when you give him small updates on Max.

Turns out, Max (your future collaborating partner), has been only OnlyFans since it started. He’s got an entire routine and dedicated fanbase and has at least a hundred ideas on what the two of you could explore.

He’s nice, as far as you can tell. Interested in your thoughts and feelings on the matter. Never pushes something you seem to hesitate on. And is willing to wait until you’re ready.

You tell Mr. Styles that you’re meeting Max for coffee this coming Friday, and his reaction is about what you’d expect. A simple, “All right,” before he’s moving on to his next task. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s losing interest in you. Or in your…business. He doesn’t ask for any details. Doesn’t pry for information. Doesn’t even suggest he check your piercings.

You know this stoic behavior isn’t unusual for him. He’s always been incredibly focused on his work and his real business.

Still, you can’t deny a part of you misses when he devoted some of his attention to you.

No matter how fucked up.

Coffee with Max is good. Better than good. You spend over four hours getting to know each other, planning the scene, and deciding what you’re both comfortable with.

By the time you leave, you’re actually excited. The ideas and positions will be incredibly riveting for the viewers, and you can’t deny that you’re interested in how they might feel.

Mr. Styles offers you nothing more than an understanding nod when you tell him. You explain that you’ll be meeting at a hotel, that you’ve already discussed a safe word, and that you’ll be taking extra precautions to make sure you both feel comfortable.

Secretly, you suppose you’re searching for his approval. For him to tell you that you’ve done a good job. That he’s signing off on this collaboration.

Yet the nod is all you get.

By the end of the workday, you’ve lost some of your spark for the impending video. You’re not sure why. Maybe you’re sulking. Maybe you gave Mr. Styles more credit than he deserved. Maybe you’re just crazy.

Either way, it strikes your boss as odd.

“Peach,” he calls, and hearing him use your pseudonym makes your heart leap. “What’s going on?”

You look up from the sofa, ripping your eyes away from your laptop. “What?”

He nods at you. “You’re distracted.”

“I’m…working?”

“Exactly. It’s weird.”

You snort. “Sorry, I’m just…I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About…” You hesitate before your head shakes. “Nothing, forget it. I’m fine. Did you get the email from Lance?”

“I did. Are you going to answer my question?”

“Only if it’s a question about the email.”

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Fine. When forwarding me the email, were you thinking about this Matthew fellow?”

Despite yourself, you smile. “Max. And that’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s rearranging the rules.”

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“Yes. Were you?”

You lean back against the cushions with a sigh. “Kind of? I don’t know. I feel like maybe it’s a bad idea.”

He mirrors your stance, allowing himself to settle into his seat. “Why is that?”

“Because…I’ve just…I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“You didn’t seem to think so earlier.”

“Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Why?  

“Yes, why?”

You shut the laptop and toss it onto the couch beside you. “It’s stupid.”

“Probably but tell me anyway.”

You throw him a playful glare. “It’s because of you, actually.”

“Me,” he repeats. 

“Yes, you. Okay, I keep…I keep thinking about how easy it was with you, and how we’ve kind of…found a way to be cool about all this,” you explain with a frustrated exhale. “Right, and then with this…something just feels…off. You know, you’re really quiet about it. Haven’t really said much, and I don’t know. Maybe I just…wanted you to be okay with it.”

He takes a moment to mull over his answer. “I told you, this is your choice. My opinions don’t matter—”

“Yeah, except that they do,” you argue. “I don’t know why but everything you’ve suggested so far has worked. So you being so uninterested in this thing with Max makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You can’t do anything wrong,” he says calmly. “It’s your body. Your content—”

“Yes, I know. I just…I want…god, I want…”

Silence stretches between you as Mr. Styles tilts his head. “You want what, Peach? You want…my permission? My approval?”

Do you? “I don’t…I don’t know. Maybe?”

He considers this before nodding once and lifting his hand, fingers beckoning you closer.

You sit up, tossing a curious glance his way.

However, when you don’t move, his expression grows stern. “Thought you knew how to behave.”

You sigh to yourself and stand, legs carrying you back to his side of the desk for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructs, and you feel a weird rush of déjà vu. 

But you obey, nonetheless, lifting the satin hem and pulling it over your head as he reaches into one of his drawers.

When his hand retreats, you see something shiny in his palm, and your breath hitches.

He’s grinning as he nods for you to sit on the table, rather entertained by your flabbergasted response. “Take them out.”

Once your ass is settled, you gently pull the lace of your bralette down, revealing your chest to his gaze yet again.

He smirks before standing as well, fingers uncurling.

Inside his fist are two nipple rings in the shapes of perfectly plump peaches.

And monogrammed on each one? An initial.

H. S.

Your lashes flutter.

“Would you like my honesty?” he begins as he brings them closer, sneaking a glimpse of your face in search of permission.

You nod quickly.

He reaches for the piercing already in place and gently starts to remove it. “I like what we’ve created, too. Perhaps more than I should.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And I like that you take my advice. Like that you’re more confident in yourself,” he continues, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple until your eyes nearly roll back. “That you feel more relaxed in your own body.”

Your hands grasp onto the edge of his desk, steadying yourself just before you can keel over.

He carries on, voice calm and deep. Like melted butter. “I like the way you react to me,” he murmurs. “The way you hold your breath. The way you squirm. Or the way you beg me for more with just a look.”

The peachy H is slipped through your right nipple with great care as you glance down.

“What you choose to do and who you choose to do it with is your decision.” He moves to the left. “That will never be up for debate.”

His palm cups the underside of your tit as you mewl a bit and shift in his touch.

He pretends not to notice. “So, you will make this video. You’ll do what I taught you. You’ll make it worth it.”

With a final pinch, the last ring is locked into place. 

He leans closer, both hands now softly taking hold of your tits until his thumbs can brush over the new jewelry.

“And I will be…right here,” he whispers, eyes falling to his initials that glitter across your chest. Almost as if claiming you. “So while he’s fucking you…you think of me.”

His touch constricts, squeezing you subtly as you gasp.

“Whenever he touches you…whenever he looks at you…” His head dips until he’s so close, you can feel his breath fan across your cheek. “…you think of me.”

You whimper, legs squeezing together. “Harry—”

“Uh-uh.” He tugs on you, expression hardening as his voice deepens. “Not here.”

“Sir,” you correct, and he nods. “I’m wearing your name, and I can’t even use it?”

“This isn’t for you,” he corrects, the tip of his nose momentarily brushing against yours. “This is for him. So he knows who you’re really in business with.”

Your hand moves to his arm, squeezing the bicep beneath his nice jacket as you swallow thickly. “So, this is just part of your investment, then?”

He’s quiet, a minute passing between you as the office fills with the sound of his clock ticking the time away.

“Yes,” he says, nodding once but the cadence is thick. Labored. “You said it would be easier if I were there. So, now I will be.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the prospect of his lips being so dangerously close. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

“Then what did you mean, Peach?” His hands move to your hips, squeezing onto your skin as if to cement you to your spot. “Hm? What do you really want from me?”

You’ve asked yourself this very question more times than you can count.

“I…” Your fingers curl into his arm. “I want whatever you’ll give me.”

Everything whittles down to right now as he debates your proposition, and you can see the intrigue in his eye.

Then he pulls back, releasing you from his hold as you nearly wilt.

“Then I’ll give you my blessing. If that’s what you need,” he says with an air of professionalism. “Do what you need to do.”

Not exactly the answer you were looking for.

With a hint of disappointment, you nod mutely, grabbing your shirt and slipping it back on as he returns to his seat, and you return to the sofa. 

“Peach Valentine,” Max greets, smile wide as he swings open the hotel door. “Right on time.”

“What can I say? Punctuality is sexy,” you tease, slipping inside and tossing your things onto the dresser. “So…this is it, huh?”

Max nods as he looks around the large hotel room, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. I’ve used it before. People seem to like it. The bedding is silk which looks nice on camera. And something about a hotel room makes people think of...taboo cheating scandals? I don’t know, it’s weird, but…they like it.”

You hum your understanding and step closer, taking note of all his equipment. “Oh, shit. You’ve got…you’ve got everything.”

He laughs. “Well, it’s what they’re paying me for.”

“Touché.” Shaky fingers lift toward your coat. “So, um…how do you wanna…where should we start?”

“I wanna go over some ground rules,” he begins, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Things we’re comfortable with, what we want to avoid, what the limits are.”

Nodding, you lean back against the large desk. “That’s fair.”

“All right, first…what are your thoughts on kis—”

There’s a knock on the door.

The sharp rapping pulls you both from the conversation as you look toward the front of the room, eyebrows raised.

“Are you…expecting anyone?” you ask hesitantly as Max’s lips turn down into a frown.

“No?” He stands from the bed and makes his way for the door. “Maybe it’s room service? I ordered some water and champagne just in case we needed an extra kick.”

“Sure, sure…”

He peers out of the peephole before swinging the door open just wide enough that it allows you to see who’s on the other side.

And your heart just about drops to your ass.

Mr. Styles.

Standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets, expression smug, and suit freshly pressed.

Max clears his throat. “Hey, man. Can I help you?”

Mr. Styles looks to you, mouth curling up into a rather devious grin. “I’m here for Peach Valentine.”

Max turns, seemingly curious. “Oh, uh…I didn’t know you were bringing someone.”

“Neither did I,” you murmur, straightening up as both men make their way into the room. “Is there…a problem?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Styles replies calmly. “Just figured you might like my advice.”

Now you understand his game, and the blood drains from your face as Max quickly looks between you. “Oh, all right. And you are…?”

Mr. Styles smirks.

“The investor.”

Don't be mad, I swear there will be smut and action and angst in the next part!!! I SWEAR IT!!

Next Part:

~ Four to Go*

Previous Part:

~ Two for the Show*

~ One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @indierockgirrl @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #ceo!harry #ceorry #one for the money #harry and peach #harry styles smut #smut

[notjustjavierpena]

His

A/N: This has been on hiatus since July. I have finally decided to finish up another chapter. I have no idea where this is going but I am just going with it at this point. They’re fun! Enjoy part 4 of mean!joel ❤️💖

Summary: After Joel kisses you, something shifts. You find out a hard truth and take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, a mishmash of feelings, dubcon-ish themes, a hint of sub!joel (?!!!!?!!??) but he is not happy about it, a hint of edging, handjobs, degradation, humiliation, riding, unprotected piv, slapping, dirty talk, empty threats

Word count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/135617983

His

Something shifts after Joel kisses you and leaves. Especially because he did it in a way that made it seem like he was bolting out of a burning building, leaving you inside for the walls to come tumbling down around you. You hardly blame him for reacting like he did that night; he is the most emotionally unavailable man you have ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting, and you doubt that he even has the vocabulary to put words to why he fled your bed like it was the scene of a crime. It isn’t like you’re going to ask him though, not even despite being curious about his reasoning and intentions. 

For you, it is not a mystery what the shift is. The arrangement between the two of you used to be anticipation, fury, and lust. Now it’s a gentle tug at your heartstrings when you catch a glimpse of him in the streets and he doesn’t look your way, knowing you should not want him in the way you do. 

How you want him is harder to pinpoint. It’s not wedding bells, it’s not children padding around on the wooden floor of your home, it’s not doing laundry for him and watching him do the dishes after sharing a meal. It’s something less complicated than love. You don’t want him to love you, but you wouldn’t mind being his only and his favorite. 

Though irony would have it that it turns out you are indeed not his only source of whatever fucked up thing the two of you exchange once in a while. 

During a short break from a late-night meeting of your patrol group (Joel had decided last week to switch to another), one of the newcomers to Jackson snickers girlishly as she tells the rest of you about how Joel Miller had made her come four times last weekend. It makes something uncomfortable swirl in your stomach, makes it drop as you feel foolish about thinking you were special. Additionally, it takes all the willpower in you to not blurt out that he had made you come seven times during one of the nights you’d spent together.

To your surprise, It isn’t that he has slept with someone else that hits you. It’s the little piece of information that your new patrol member lets slip with a giggle. 

“Such a gentleman,” she says, basking in the attention of the circle of women standing around her. Their collective sigh makes you wonder what they’d say if you let them know that Joel forced you to suck him off the first time you were together. A part of you suspect that she is lying as she continues, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, girls. He was just so attentive and sweet.” 

After the meeting, you feel like you’re about to suffocate if you don’t leave the building quickly. The tightening in your chest makes your heart feel caged, desperate to come out into the open and bleed all over the place from making its way past your ribs. Desperately, you push past anyone who does not jump out of your way immediately. 

Once outside, you find a quiet spot behind the community center where people only come to be alone. You rest your forehead against the side of the building, breathing deeply in through your nose and exhaling shakily as you suppress the tears that threaten to roll down your face. 

“Fuck,” you say bitterly as a droplet still manages to escape from the corner of your eye. You wipe it away with a quick swipe of your hand as if to hide the evidence from the world and yourself, “Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck are you crying over him about?”

However, the single tear seems to have opened the floodgates because you find yourself properly crying a few seconds later. It is ridiculous, you know this, but you cannot help the shaky breaths that leave your mouth as your cheeks stain with tears. 

Joel is not anything special. Joel is rude and arrogant, bordering on narcissistic and psychotic. You’re not even sure if he can smile, if he’s funny, or if he’s capable of not ruining things when touching them. He sure has ruined you, ruined both your nights and days because they’re spent wondering about him. 

Then again, surely he must know this because he looks at you from across the room the way he does. He must know what he is doing to you, and it makes you fucking furious because how did he ever think that he had the right to pursue you? Make you want him? And, to top all of it off, how does he think he has the right to not appreciate you? 

Rage slowly builds in your chest. Your heartbeat is threatening to make you pass out with how fast it is going, but you ground yourself by taking a few deep breaths that eventually stop your tears as well. 

I’ll fucking show him, you think, and it’s the white-hot fury in you that is talking.

You stalk across the streets of Jackson, earning a few concerned glances but no warning words. It’s a relief that you look angry enough for people not to bother you, because you wouldn’t be able to articulate your reasons for wanting to implode with how furious you are. 

Your legs take you all the way to Joel’s house. You stomp angrily up the porch’s stairs, but it’s only when you burst Joel’s front door open that you realize that you actually haven’t been in his home before. It’s also only then that you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do now that you are here, too angry and out of your damn mind to explore the many pictures on the walls, the wooden carved figures on the shelves and… is that a guitar? 

You mentally shake yourself.

“Focus on the task at hand,” you say quietly with exasperation, and then the search for your betrayer begins.

You walk through the house with determination, but you soon realize that he is nowhere to be found downstairs. It doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t locked his door (nobody in Jackson does), but you still feel disappointed that you can’t make a big dramatic scene of throwing a plate in the kitchen or a cushion in the living room. You feel slightly like a rage-filled balloon that’s slowly losing air. 

So you decide to go upstairs whilst still clinging to your rage, planning on waiting in his bedroom for his return but realizing that Joel is already in and sleeping in his bed. It’s late enough, you suppose, and you know he has a series of hard labor tasks on certain days.

You try your hardest not to feel too intoxicated by the smell of him on the sheets, need your head clear as you slowly start to undress right in front of his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful and so unlike his usual stoic self, and so vulnerable that the opportunity is too great to miss. 

You freeze the times he stirs slightly but he never wakes up, and soon, you are down to your underpants and nothing more and you are so wet with the anticipation of both sex and power in the room, even more with Joel being so unaware of it.

The bed creaks as you crawl onto it. You manage to straddle Joel before he wakes up fully, immediately lifting his arms to grab you and defend himself but when he realizes it’s your body on top of his, he falters.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice is filled with sleep but he is nowhere near panic as you had hoped. 

You lean down over him and grab at his chin with the hand that’s not holding you up. You smile down at him but Joel is already staring down at your chest as you hover above him. You shake his head slightly, “Eyes up here, you bastard.”

“Shouldn’t look so pretty then,” he retorts. 

“Heard you were screwing around with that new bimbo. I thought you liked a challenge,” you tighten the grip on Joel’s jaw, push him back into the mattress, and catch the way he is connecting the dots in his head but the time it takes him makes you realize that there has been more than her. You growl, still hovering over him, and leaning down to ghost your lips over his whilst your eyes roam over his face, “It’s a damn fucking privilege to be breathing the same air as me.” 

“Cute,” he says quietly and brattishly. 

You push down briefly before letting go. Your eyes look down at his lips but you don’t kiss him like you want to, don’t want to give in when it would seem so vulnerable to give in to that temptation. 

Instead, you reach up to hold your palm in front of his mouth. You smile innocently, “Lick it.”

“What?” He chuckles in disbelief.

“Go on. Do as I say.”

Joel lets out his tongue and wets his lips. He gives in faster than you have anticipated, licks a long stripe from the start of your wrist to the middle of your palm, and coats your hand in disgusting, hot, and dirty saliva. 

“Did she do that?” You ask. You feel behind yourself to slide a hand down into Joel’s jeans and then past the waistband of his underwear, “Put you in your place because she knows how disgusting you are?” 

Joel is already half-hard as you take him in your slicked palm, and his cock comes alive fully not a moment later. He gasps into the bedroom but still looks cocky as ever, “Which of ‘em?”

“Fuck you,” you stroke him slowly and his breaths come out in small puffs that hardly make him seem calm and composed. You realize how much you’ve needed, craved, to put your hands on him. 

“That can be arranged,” he says, trying to catch a glimpse of what you are doing to him. He starts to move, makes an effort to flip you around but you catch him before he can follow through. You tighten your grip around his cock, squeezing him around the base until he gasps softly. 

“No one but me,” you say, “Okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, what is this?” He rolls his eyes and moans when you stroke him once and then twice. 

“Are you going to behave?” You ask with a harsh grip again. You let your lips touch briefly now. 

“What?” Joel looks slightly disgusted. 

“I asked,” you begin and now you start to stroke him properly, mimicking what you have seen him do to himself when he has wanted to come on your face, “Are you going to behave, Joel?”

“No,” he teases. 

“Don’t make me ask once more, baby,” you move your hand up and down quickly, almost forcing him to near orgasm before you squeeze around the base to edge him. He hisses, neck blushing with how his heartbeat must be on overdrive. 

“Fuck,” he groans, throbbing in your hand, and with his snark, you almost just want to spend hours tracing the vein along his length with your fingertip, “Whaddaya want? You want me to be your little boyfriend or somethin’? Don’t be dumb, it don’t suit ya.”

“Listen,” you say, scooting back slightly and leaving a stain of your slick on the bottom of his t-shirt, “I’ll stick your big cock in me right now and let you come in me if you say I’m your only girl. You’ll never need another pussy than this.” 

He says your name as you straighten on top of him again but you let him know it doesn’t mean anything to you. Your free hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, and then you hold his cock in place as you slide down onto it and let it stretch you by bottoming out inside of you. You try your best to look motionless but he has a girth that stings.

“Say it,” you demand, slightly out of breath at the feeling of sitting on his thighs now. 

Joel is silent. He stares up at you, looking as if he has won because he is already inside of you but when you don’t hear an answer, you start lifting yourself off of him again. Joel grabs your hips in protest, holds you down, “No.”

“Then say it,” you reply, “Now.”

“You’re my girl,” he moans helplessly as you reward him with a roll of your hips. You make a noise as well, something closer to a tiny cry for him but you aren’t going to give in just like that.

“The only?” You inquire when you regain your composure. 

“My only girl, even if she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass,” he groans. You flex your thighs to grip him around the middle and then you squeeze his length, letting your walls clamp down and it sends his eyes rolling backward. He bucks up his hips and you moan. 

However, you still have more to say and do. You don’t move yet, “I don’t believe you.”

Joel rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening but he still doesn’t force you to ride him, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck now?”

“I think you’re a liar,” you inform him, trying to ignore how much every instinct in your body is telling you to use his dick for yourself. You squeeze around him again, “I think you’ll say anything to get pussy.”

“No one’s got a pussy like yours, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that?” He bares his teeth like an aggressive, cornered dog and he groans at the feeling of your soft, wet walls, “You’re like fuckin’ cocaine. Need more each time or I’ll never recover.”

“Don’t go finishing in me, Joel,” you scold. 

“I ain’t gonna,” he bites back, “I do have some self-control.”

“With the way you’ve been whoring around?” You tut, experimentally rocking your hips forward to feel him slip almost all the way out of your cunt. You move back to let him bury himself deep once more and whine, “Riiight.”

“Watch it, we’re only doin’ this because I allow it. I could break ya spine like a fuckin’ toothpick,” he breathes, hands going up along your thighs until he lets them glide up your back as if he is going to make truth of his threat, “Don’t forget who has the upper hand here.”

You relish in his rough hands on your lower back and finally start up a pace to ride him properly, not caring about how your thighs start to burn as you seek out pleasure. It’s a fun contrast to what Joel has just told you because his eyes glaze over in a way that shows you that he wouldn’t even know how to snap you in half if he wanted to. 

His breath has quickened, each intake and exhale becoming airy, whilst he holds your soft sides in his calloused grip. You rest your palms on top of his forearms, undulating your hips until his eyes roll back. He seems like he might lose his mind this time around, so submissive in his own way now that what you are doing to him has hit him by surprise. 

He shamelessly groans your name. Its roughness spurs you on, making you lean forward a little further to give him more. You ride him as if your life depends on it until something burns delicious in your belly and his pelvic bone grinds into your clit. 

Your first proper moan leaves you, high and squeaky. The angle has you baring your teeth, your breathing shaking, from how his cockhead stabs at your front wall repeatedly. You start spitting filth to not sound pathetic even further, “Fuck, Joel, your big cock is enough to make a girl lose her sanity. Makes my eyes wanna roll back.”

But Joel says nothing as he seems pissed off by what you have made of him. Instead, he breathes hard through his nose and occasionally lets a moan fall from his mouth. It pisses you off too. He had such a smart mouth just moments ago, and now he has resorted to being spiteful. 

You make a rash decision then. You move steadily on his cock, rhythm not faltering once, whilst reaching down to his face with your dominant hand. You smack his cheek hard enough to make a point and a noise, eyes narrowed, “Snap out of your ego tripping.”

Joel responds not with words but by curling his hand around your wrist and yanking it away, and then he takes hold of your smaller body once again and starts snapping his hips upwards, crashing them into yours until you nearly topple off of him after crying out. He tightens his hands on your body whilst you hold his forearm with one hand and have the other firmly planted on his chest, and suddenly you are working together towards a crescendo. 

“Give it to me!” You yell with your eyes screwed shut from the pressure against your clit and g-spot. Joel is swearing and his chest is glistening with sweat but he gives in to your command, making you bounce in his lap until he throws his head back and yells with you. 

“Fuck, honey,” he grits out, “Gonna make me come inside ya tight pussy.”

“Oh, it talks?” You quip, trying to hold back a pathetic string of cries but to no avail. Joel smooths his hands up to cup your body just below your breasts, digging his thumbs into your rib cage. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorts. 

“I’m gonna come,” you say instead and furrow your brow. 

“Yeah?” He mocks but then his face goes slack and you feel him twitch inside of you, impossibly close to the edge too, “Fuuuck, I can feel ya. Choke my cock real good, Doll.”

You come hard, unable to catch your breath as you keep moving back and forth on his length. Your whole pussy pulses, tight walls gripping him even further. The fingers holding onto his forearm make little indents and your nails on the other hand scratch into his chest until red lines form. And you cry. Oh, you cry and cry for him whilst singing his name.

The clenching of your cunt around his dick makes him reach his own point of no return a moment after. He does a sharp intake of breath and when he exhales even sharper, a groan follows, and his cock releases come inside of you. 

You use your last bit of energy to ride him through it. Your delirious mind, hazy with pleasure, makes your mouth run as you slowly drag your hips to match each twitch of his length, “See? She can’t love you like I do. Is that really what you want, Joel?” 

Joel pants underneath you. He tenses up when he hears those words but instead of pulling away, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the realization. In your chest, your pulse beats rapidly, “Just ‘cause I said it, doesn’t mean that I meant it.”

Joel tightens his grip briefly but then lets go. He sighs, then reaches up to rub his forehead in frustration, “I don’t have the strength.” 

“What’s so bad about it?” You ask, figuring that you might as well jump into the conversation now that you’ve been stupid enough to start it. 

“Don’t,” he warns, letting out a noise as he moves to pull out of you. Your panties move back into place, causing you to shiver.

“Please,” you know it is weak of you.

Joel says your name, mimicking the tone of a parent who is tired of hearing their child pestering them about something. He finds your eyes but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Just let me try something,” you continue and earn a raised brow. He stops trying to move. You swallow thickly but decide to be brave. 

Carefully, you curl your fingers into Joel’s chest hair and reach for his cheek with your other hand. You close the distance between the two of you, finding his mouth with your own and kissing him with a lot less vigor compared to what you have just done.

Underneath your palm on Joel’s chest, you can feel him exhale in something resembling relief. He doesn’t fight the kiss, no, instead he moves his arms and holds your waist. He kisses you back with closed eyes and soft hands, and you try not to ruin it by becoming eager. 

A few moments pass. When you finally pull away, he looks like a deer in the headlights of a car but you talk before he can, “Go to sleep. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything; I can see you’re exhausted.”

You move off of him to lie down at his side instead. Besides you, Joel closes his eyes without hesitation as if he needs to escape any conversation but when his breathing slows down further and you realize that he is drifting off, he looks mostly like a tamed beast. 

Ever so gently, you run a hand over his hair. He shifts only a little bit, so you do it again and suddenly you’re stroking the salt and pepper curls repeatedly.

To think that he had been ready to fight if someone touched him just half an hour ago. You continue for a few minutes before leaving the bed, heading for his bathroom to get cleaned up, and when you return again, he doesn’t react this time either.

The next day, you’re back in the same patrol group. 

.

.

.

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#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #my writing #mean!joel

[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, ���Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

#captain america #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #nomad steve x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fluff #captain america x female reader #nomad steve smut #navy and roo's sleepover #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #navy and roo sleepover #steve rogers imagine #steven grant rogers #dom steve #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #frostironfudge #chris evans x female reader #christopher robert evans #cevans

[twinfools]

I’m 3 years post phalloplasty and I realized I’ve never really made a post about how things are going. Phalloplasty is a hard surgery to talk about because, bottom line, it’s not part of common conversation to talk about yo dick. That being said I think it’s really important for me to talk about this procedure to help break stigma and misinformation— both inside and outside of trans and non-binary communities.

I had ALT phalloplasty, glansplasty, scrotoplasty, no urethral lengthening (UL) with vaginectomy. This means that tissue from my thigh was used to create my penis, my urethra was not extended or moved (so I don’t stand to pee) and my vagina was closed. I feel like this detail is important because this is one of many variations for this procedure and what I opted for/out of were decisions made according to trade-offs between personal benefit and risk.

I opted out of UL because I do not tolerate catheters well and, due to my very active lifestyle, was not willing to risk longer term catheterization or bladder spasms which would impede my quality of life. This risk, for me, outweighed the benefit of standing to pee.

I opted for ALT knowing that I would likely need debulking (which I didn’t end up needing but opted for anyway out of preference). Debulking is a procedure to make the penis less girthy as ALT phalloplasty is more girthy because of the nature of tissue on the thigh. I chose ALT because, first and foremost, I did not want scarring on my forearm. My ALT scar is covered by clothing most of the time which I appreciate. I also chose ALT because I have skinny forearms, which wasn’t ideal for forearm phalloplasty (RFF).

Vaginectomy, for me, was a no brainer. I have never used or connected with that part of my body so I wanted it gone.

Glansplasty is a procedure to make the glans (head) of the penis and was a short procedure done after my initial stage of surgery. I may get it redone but I’m still undecided on that. Scrotoplasty creates a scrotum, I was ambivalent about this procedure but have grown to more appreciate it over time.

I am considering further surgeries: erectile implant (which creates the ability for the penis to “get hard”) and testicular implants (fills to scrotum with testicle implants). But I’m undecided and want a break from surgery while I finish my degree and focus on work. I’m also considering phalloplasty tattooing to help enhance the contour and coloring to make it appear more like a cis penis.

Whew! Lots of info, right? These are big procedures completed over multiple stages and are very unlike chest surgery, hysterectomy and other surgeries I had completed prior. When I was first considering this surgery I didn’t know there was flexibility in terms of tissue donor site and UL. I waited to have this surgery and am so happy I did because the information I gained from research and consulting with professionals and folks with lived experience was so valuable.

Was surgery hard? Yes. This surgery was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. I’ve never been so uncomfortable for the first 2 weeks after recovering. I had to re-learn how to walk. I couldn’t sleep. Peeing hurt… but would I do it again? Yes. It was worth it for me but I can’t underscore enough that that doesn’t mean I didn’t have moments where I felt regret while recovering because post op depression is a thing and I was in pain while adjusting to a new body part that was also a healing surgical site… LOTS going on there!

3 years on I feel really at home in my body. Just having a penis is such a comfort to me in ways I didn’t anticipate. I’ve had a feeling my entire life that I was missing a body part and this was it. The quiet gender euphoria of just sitting and feeling my body and for once feeling complete in that is something that’s hard to articulate.

I’m thankfully back to full mobility and got back to full mobility about 3 months post op. I was grateful for this since a long term recovery wasn’t what I wanted. There are still weird twitches, pains and feelings, especially around my donor site (thigh) from time to time but nothing that inhibits me. Just interesting when it happens (usually when weather gets colder?).

What is one thing I would want to go back and tell myself before surgery? Well:

Your penis will feel HEAVY. Like it will fall off. It won’t fall off and your body will adjust to the weight in an area you didn’t have it before. Until then it will feel like you need to hold it at all times.

Hopefully this helps someone as an overview of what an experience with this procedure may look like. Again, my goal is to put information out there and have frank conversations— because it’s these same things that greatly benefitted me in my surgery journey.

Finally— my inbox is open for anyone that has questions. I am in a privileged position to feel safe talking about these things and I feel comfortable doing so. Not everyone does, so please don’t assume that this invitation applies to other folks who have accessed surgery unless they say so.

Thank you for reading :)

#ftm #phalloplasty #surgery #trans #transition #transgender #trans man #trans guy #gender affirming surgery #phallo

[faux-ecrivain]

’Yan’ Roommate

(Eight Official Post)

(This one could be viewed as platonic obsession, also in this story you (the darling)  is at least 26-32. Of course, feel free to change the age.)

(Yandere’s name is Lucas)

Yan Roommate who only roomed with you because houses are expensive.

Yan roommate who absolutely despises you, not because you’re annoying, but because you’re nosey. (Always asking about his day, his dates and so on.)

Yan roommate who goes out of his way to sneak in when he’s been out late, just to avoid your questions. (It doesn’t work, obviously, you always stay up late waiting for him)

Yan roommate who absolutely cannot bring anyone over, because you immediately start acting as though he’s going to marry them. 

You beckon him to the kitchen, a mischievous smile on your face. “oh, Lucas, is that your date? She’s so cute!” You compliment his date, which makes Lucas somewhat uncomfortable. “Is she hungry? I made dinner!” You hand him a plate, still warm as you had it plastic wrapped, and he resist the urge to groan. 

He thanks you for the plate, but informs you that his date has already eaten. He winces when your face slips into an expression of disappointment. “Sorry, y/n, but thank you for the food.” He apologizes to you, but appreciates what you did. (Later when the young woman went home you kept sending him knowing looks and teasing him about how cute they looked together)

(It’s clear you’ve already planned their wedding, cooked a full dinner for the two of them and you give him one of those sly looks when you leave them alone.)

Yan roommate who, despite your nosey behavior, actually likes having you around (because you make him feel cared for).

Yan roommate who begins to view you as a parental figure, a guidance of sorts. (You’re so much better than his parents and you actually care about him!)

Yan roommate who gets drunk one night and then starts talking to you, being more vulnerable than usual.

“Y/n, i love you sooo much, you’re sooo nice to me!” He slurs, clearly meaning platonic love, his words muffled by your stomach. (As he latched his arms around you when he entered the house) 

“Yoooouu would make such an amaaaazing parent!” He giggles, snuggling close to you and refusing to let you go. You chuckle and pat his head, his behavior is so amusing. “Well, I am a parent, Lucas.”

Yan roommate who is absolutely flabbergasted to learn all this, you don’t look like a parent. Then you tell him that you adopted some kids when you were younger. 

“Whaaat?! You’re a parent?!” He exclaims, clearly surprised by such a thought. “But you don’t look like one!” It all makes sense now, your caring behavior and your tendency to worry is clearly because you view him as a child, your child, he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Yan roommate who gets mixed feelings when he hears this, one the up side at least he can have the parent he always wanted, but he’s also an adult and feels a bit insulted that you treat him like a child. But then he thinks some more and decides he wouldn’t mind being your kid. (Take that how you will)

Yan roommate who cringes when be remembers how yesterday went and he swears he’ll never drink again. 

However his opinion on being your child still hasn’t change, but he has feeling that it might make things awkward if he said that.

Yan roommate who’s becomes reluctant to invite other people over to your shared apartment, because then he’ll have to share you with them and he doesn’t want to do that. He eventually stops bringing his dates over and stops mentioning you to his friends.  (He’s touched when you express your worries that he might be mad at you, now he knows you care about him.)

Yan roommate who explains that he doesn’t want anyone to steal your attention, he’s somewhat offended when you laugh at him, but he’s calmed down when you reassure him that that’ll never happen. (So he, reluctantly, begins to invite his friends and dates over. (However, anytime they’re over he’s increasingly clingy and defensive over you, which prevents any visitors to get to know you. Whilst, also preventing them from coming over again)

Yan roommate who pouts when you tell him not to scare off his friends or dates, he pouts even more when you encourage him to  get a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, whichever). Then you tell him to get out of the house more and that he doesn’t need to hover around you, which just upsets him and then he argues that he doesn’t need anyone else when he has you. 

Which then causes you to chastise him, which upsets him (everything you do upsets him) and then he storms off to his room like a moody teenager (mainly because he doesn’t want to argue with you and partly because he feels a strange satisfaction knowing that you care so much about him)

Yan roommate who can’t help but smile when you apologize, saying that you shouldn’t have pushed him and that he should socialize on his own terms.

Yan roommate who’s absolutely ecstatic when you gift him a present to make up for your mistakes. He immediately forgives you, but only under the condition that you don’t make him socialize (unless he wants to).

Yan roommate who panics whenever you leave the apartment, what if someone takes you from him? (He doesn’t want to lose another parent!) 

Yan roommate who throws a fit when you get back, shouting all sorts of nonsense about how you’re trying to abandon him and how you don’t love him anymore. (Meanwhile, you’re completely confused, because all you did was go buy groceries)

Yan roommate who makes you promise to stay with him and makes you swear not to leave him behind. 

(Apologies that this isn’t the best and might be somewhat incoherent, but at least I posted today! I’m open to criticism and I hope you enjoy this.)

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yan roommate x reader #enjoy this short fanfic! #Not the worst #but not the best #Eighth Official Post #Lucas my oc

[mooshywrites]

Something Borrowed, Something New

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Female!tav

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - i just finished my play through of my astarion run and to say i feel hollow about the ending is SUCH an understatement. So since the game doesn’t have the storage space to give me a slice of life simulator with my favorite vampire, then ive decided to make one myself ~

Word count - 1.6K

Warnings - N/A ~ sickly sweet fluff, minor spoilers, baby’s first blurb

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“My darling, if you keep your nose buried in those books, your life is going to pass before your eyes.”

The gentle tease brought your wandering tiefling mind hurtling back to earth. In truth, you hadn’t even been reading, the words in front of you becoming a mess of blurry text and complicated theories. You lifted your gaze to meet the source of the tease, the entire reason behind your recent studies.

“It’s an important book, Astarion. The shopkeep said this book has anything and everything anyone knows about vampires.” Your lips took on a slight smile as the exasperation in your voice lifted, “Or do you want to spend the rest of your life trying to remember what the sun feels like.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, leaning back against the plush chair and crossing his arms, “That shopkeep of yours is a con-man. If there was a cure to being what I am, it wouldn’t be in some silly book.”

The elf softened his tone as he saw the way his lover’s shoulders dropped, knowing it wasn’t fair to discredit any of her attempts at curing his… affliction. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t at least attempt to sleep, darling.”

You allowed yourself a dramatic sigh as the book slipped out of your hands, being gently taken by the white-haired thief. You knew he was right, knew that there was no more information to glean from this book, especially not while your eyes drooped and your mind grew foggy. As much as you hated giving Astarion the pleasure of being right, and you did hate it, you were exhausted. Exhausted and feeling utterly hopeless at your task

”You may be right.” You said in a small voice, “It would be much to easy to open a book and find a spell to let a vampire spawn walk in the sunlight”

The cushion you sat upon dipped slightly, gentle arms pulling you into a comforting embrace.

“You know how uncomfortable seeing you in pain makes me, pet” Astarion murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

”I just want to find a cure already” You protested, “A spell, a potion, a demon contract I can sign to get you under that god-forsaken ball of fire again. You would think that taking down a hoard of ilithid would make any challenge look like a stroll through the woods.” Your words were tense and harsh, a tone you immediately regretted as you felt the pale elf beside you stiffen against it.

“You must have patience, my darling. It’s only been a couple of years since we’ve began this journey.” His fingers poked into your side teasingly, earning a small laugh. “We do have forever, you know.

“Mmhm, forever with a dramatic vampire who wants to go adventuring for a cure but hates being away from his precious comforts.” You teased, looking back up at him.

”Oh, please.” Astarion tutted disapprovingly. “You’d think after a couple centuries of servitude and then saving the world would earn a man the rights to a comfort or two.”

Your sleepy head found a comfortable place in the crook of the vampires neck, the rest of you leaning into his cool touch. “Well if you’re so attached to them, maybe we should just stay here and find a way to enjoy your ‘comfort or two.”

Silence fell over the small room in the even tinier inn. You were uncomfortably aware of the lack of snide remark back from your partner. With Astarion, silence was always an abnormality.

”Or somewhere bigger.” You added jokingly, your voice coming out as an unsure whisper.

You weren’t sure about how Astarion felt about settling down. In truth, it hadn’t come up in the time you’d been together so far. Most of your talks were about next steps, new theories, different wizards to contact with questions about Astarion’s condition. Neither of you had been brave enough to talk about the life you might both lead if Astarion was able to live normally again. Neither brave enough to face the disappointment of that future being possibly impossible. But the more you adventured, the more days spent sleeping in one Inn after another, you felt the longing to put down roots more and more every day.

You bit your lip, hands nervously picking at nails already picked to the short. Wouldn’t Astarion find that kind of thinking entirely selfish? How could you ask him to sacrifice further potential freedom?

You were brought back to your thoughts again as Astarion’s slender hand tilted your chin towards his gaze. The relief that filled you as you saw his knowing smile was probably laughable, the crinkles next to his eyes as he grinned dissipating what was left of your anxiety. What did it matter where you were and what you were doing or where your head lay when daylight started to seem into the sky? It’s the person you awoke beside that’s important.

”What thoughts fill those pretty head of yours?” Astarion teased. Peering at your forehead as he were trying to see the physical thoughts.

”Oh, just thinking of what a nightmare you will be when we have a place of our own after this mess.” You retorted, smiling, pulling your best impersonation of the man next to you “Oh, not there, darling. Those drapes simply must be a hair to the left. And who on earth did this border? Aht, no one in this town can embroider properly.” You flourished your hands dramatically, putting on a rather good play of the vampire.

”I don’t sound a thing like that, love.” He replied, feigning offense. “Besides, I would be right to say that. Not a soul knows the right way to handle a needle and thread. I suppose I’ll have to take up the position, myself.”

“You? Start a shop and make honest money?” You scoffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Well why couldn’t I?” The familiar whiny tone you knew and loved began creeping back into his voice. “How much could a shop possibly cost? I would create marvels of woven artistry and you could do… well… everything else.” He finished certainly.

”That seems much too boring for someone like you, Astarion.” He couldn’t possibly be serious about this. Astarion? A shopkeep? He was rather skilled with fabrics, but would he be satisfied with such a simple life?

”Boring sounds… nice.” Astarion replied simply, his words becoming soft and serious. “Maybe sunlight isn’t worth watching the years roll by before me.”

Your breath stilled as you faced him.

“You… You want to settle down?” You asked.

Astarion scoffed, the humor settling back into his tone. “Settle down? I simply offered staying in one place for more than a few nights. You excite to easily, my darling.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly, thankful for the end of the serious moment. Even now, you couldn’t always wrap your mind around Astarion’s. Whether he was joking or now, what he really wanted in the end. It somehow always seemed a mystery right outside of your grasp.

”What would you say to that, however?” Astarion prodded. “If I told you that I wanted to… well, uhm… settle down?”

You paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as you searched his red irises.

“I would wonder if you’ve been replaced by a doppelgänger.” You replied accusingly.

“Well” he sighed, exasperated. “ Then write me down as a doppelgänger, I’d like to live in a little house with a shop downstairs filled with my own creations. To be horribly and utterly… domestic.”

You couldn’t help the wide smile that crawled across your face. The hope and excitement that filled your face.

”Oh don’t look at me like that!” Astarion complained, giving you a look of mock horror. “You look as if I just told you that I’ve given up a life of debauchery.”

You shrugged, grinning wickedly, “Is that not what you’re saying, Astarion?”

”No, of course not, darling.” He replied defiantly. “I’m just saying that I’m going to find a way to buy the next empty building we see and see how many people can be manipulated into buying my creations.”

”Lucky for you, Baldur’s Gate is within a day's travel. You may have to put your coin where your sinful mouth is.” You said with finality, truly thinking you were calling his bluff.”

“It’s settled then.” He smirked, leaning in to place a searing kiss against your unexpecting lips. You felt his arms snake further around you and… past you?

With difficulty, you willed yourself to pull away from the kiss, looking behind yourself questioningly. ”What are you-“ You paused, seeing the gold rimmed vase Astarion now had in his grasp.”

”It’s our something borrowed.” He shrugged. “For our new shop.”

You couldn’t hold back the almost overly dramatic eye roll. “First, love, that’s not borrowing, that’s stealing and two…” You felt your cheeks heat. “The phrase ‘something borrowed, something new’ is for wedding’s. Not for new shops and homes.”

”Oh, well… we should probably do that too.” Astarion said plainly, scooping you up to carry you to the bed not a stone’s toss away.

You gasped, hitting his chest gentle and putting on your best glare. “That is not how you propose to a woman you cur.”

Astarion chuckled as he placed you on the bed, climbing under the blankets with you. “You can lecture me about that tomorrow, darling. For now-“ He brushed his lips against yours, a sweet and loving kiss, “You simply must get some sleep. How else will we go shopping for your ‘something new’ tomorrow?”

You smiled as you leaned into his touch, snuggling against his chest. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, he’d probably hear your excitement for the future through your words and not believe your chiding anyways. you were thankful for the ability to hide your face against him, your fingers tracing lazy circles along his chest,

If it weren’t for the gentle pale reds and purples that began to chase away the deep blue night, you could’ve stayed awake grinning like that forever.

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #fluff #baldurs gate tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav

[ticklishfiend]

Figure Us Out (ATLA)

(lee!zuko /ler!aang and sokka)

A/N : i love atla rn. love zuko. if i encounter an awkward grumpy guy with a redemption arc in media, u bet ur ass i’m going to tickle him

Word Count : 3863

Summary : Zuko still feels like an outsider in their group. Aang and the others are gonna make sure he feels included!

hope u enjoy!!

—

“You’re such a liar!” Katara playfully punched Sokka in the arm, drawing a laugh out of him.

“I am not! That’s exactly how it went down, you’re just embarrassed that–”

“I’m not embarrassed–”

“Yeah, and you’re totally not red in the face either.”

“Sokka!”

This was…this was weird. 

Before meeting Sokka and Katara, Zuko really thought “being angry at your sibling” was a concept he understood better than anyone. He and Azula fought constantly back at home, it was pretty much just how they communicated with each other. Arguments aplenty, yelling and bickering by the dozen. 

But after spending the past few weeks with his new team (the word ‘friends’ still makes him bite his tongue), he’s realized there’s actually two different types of a sibling fight, and one of those types he’s never personally encountered before.

He’s used to spitting insults, deep personal cuts made against your biggest insecurities. Lies and manipulation hidden under sweet smiles so no one around suspects a thing. Most fights were like dances, using careful words and holding back just enough information to make your opponent second-guess themselves. And, of course, an argument was rarely ever had without literal flames thrown around to really drive it home.

But this? This was playful bickering around a campfire just to get under each other’s skin. Lighthearted teasing that showed how well they knew each other. There was love under each jab.

It was sorta weirding Zuko out.

He wasn’t uncomfortable by it, in fact probably the opposite. It made him feel closer to the group that he was included in moments like these. He liked getting to witness how normal siblings are supposed to interact, even if he knows he’ll never truly get to experience something like that himself. Zuko’s accepted his distance with Azula, and honestly it’d probably feel weirder if they did interact like this after everything they’ve gone through.

Honestly, he’s not sure why he feels weird. Maybe it’s because he’s just not as close to them all as they are to each other. Right now, Zuko’s just an awkward outsider that’s sorta-kinda trying to fit in, and fitting in with normal people has never exactly been his strong suit. He’s awkward and stiff and he knows it. And yet, they’ve been so open to him already. Sure, he had to prove he was over his whole ‘capture the avatar to avenge my honor’ phase, but now that he’s over that hump they’ve been super cool to him.

Zuko’s weirdly enjoyed getting to know this group’s dynamics with each other. He’s not entirely sure how he fits in yet, but that’s not even his biggest concern right now. Actually, his biggest concern right now might be that weird look Katara’s got on her face.

“Lying is pretty unbecoming of a warrior, dontcha think Suki?” Katara grinned over at Sokka’s girlfriend, who chuckled into his shoulder,

“Do not get me involved in…whatever this is.”

“Yeah, don’t drag her into this! She wasn’t even there!” Sokka argued very loudly, his usual bickering style. He gripped onto Suki’s arm with a pout, fluttering his eyelashes. “You believe me, right?”

Suki glanced at Katara behind Sokka’s back, and could clearly see her plotting something. Katara grinned like a loon before holding a finger up to her lips. Suki giggled, “Of course I believe you. How couldn’t I believe this face?” She pinched his cheek and Sokka hummed happily. Zuko took another spoonful of soup as he watched quietly, catching on that something was about to happen. He just didn’t know what.

Then, when Katara shoved her hands under Sokka’s arms, Zuko nearly spit his soup into the fire at Sokka’s resounding shriek. Sokka quickly fell into a fit of loud laughter, toppling over his log with Katara following after. 

“Admit you’re a liar!” She practically yelled over Sokka’s obnoxiously loud cackling. “Admit it!”

“AH! Ahaha no! You–You’re crahazy!” He sputtered out, shoving at Katara’s hands to no avail. 

Zuko felt weird watching this. He’s not unfamiliar with the concept of tickling, but he’s not exactly accustomed to it either. Especially not with family. Sure, Uncle had been known to tweak his sides every once in a while when they were out on their own together, but never anything like this. Zuko took to awkwardly staring into his soup, hoping he’d fade into the background like he usually did at dinner time. 

Unfortunately for him, tonight he was sitting next to Aang. Zuko felt an elbow nudge his rib, glancing over to the smiling Avatar. 

“Y’know, Sokka’s pretty well-known for exaggerating his stories like, a lot. Katara’s told this story before and he didn’t say a thing then. He definitely deserves this.” 

Zuko swallowed some soup. “That seems likely,” he said stiffly. Zuko could feel Aang’s eyes on him at the same time he heard the scuffle quiet down. 

“That was…” Sokka panted, “so uncalled for. Did you have to do that in front of Suki? And the fire prince?!” Sokka whined, his hands thrown over his face. 

“Hey, if anyone deserves to know how much of a liar you are, it’s gonna be your girlfriend and the new guy,” Katara said proudly, standing up to grab another log for the fire. Sokka grumbled, crossing his arms as Suki wrapped him in a sympathetic hug. 

Zuko decided not to acknowledge his mentioning, not sure if he should get involved in this. Apparently Aang felt otherwise.

“Did you and your sister ever play like that?”

Oh. Okay. So that’s what Aang was thinking about. 

The crackling of the fire seemed so much louder now that everyone had gone noticeably silent. Zuko found himself staring into it.

Katara shifted uncomfortably. “Aang, maybe we shouldn’t–” 

“No no, it’s okay,” Zuko sat his bowl down next to his log. “I understand having questions.”

Aang continued looking at him with those big eyes of his, but Zuko kept staring into the fire. Talking about family wasn’t always the easiest, but felt necessary in gaining more of their trust. They deserved to know this stuff. 

“My sister and I have never really been close. We’ve had our…moments. But play was rarely on the table,” Zuko said. “Not when we both had so much on the line.”

Aang pinched his lips together in thought. “So I’m guessing tickle fights were never on the table either, huh?”

Zuko huffed in amusement, finally peeking over at Aang. “No, not really.”

“Wait, so…” Sokka spoke up, curiosity mixed with something else glinting in his eye, clearly excited about changing the subject. “Do you even know if you’re ticklish?” 

Toph barked a laugh from her rock stool. “You’re just asking cause you’re tired of being the most ticklish in the group!” 

“Hey!” Sokka exclaimed angrily before fixing his face. “Look, first of all, I’m not the most ticklish. We all know that title belongs to Aang,” Sokka nodded towards Aang, who just grinned. “And secondly, being the one that gets ganged up on all the time gets a little unfair when I’m surrounded by frickin' benders, okay?!”

Everyone but Zuko chuckled at that, which brought Sokka’s attention back towards him. “Seriously though, fire prince. Ticklish or no?”

“Um…” Zuko cringed. “I mean, yeah I guess so. Er–Uncle poked me sometimes when we were on the run together, if that counts.”

“Did you not just hear Sokka begging for his life two seconds ago?” said Toph with a chuckle. “That definitely doesn’t count.”

Zuko really wasn’t sure what to say. He’s smart enough to know where this conversation seemed to be heading, and was really unsure how to feel about that. In a poor attempt to evade whatever this was, he pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over them, leaving a spot to rest his head.

While Zuko might’ve been smart enough to sense the direction these questions were heading, Aang was smart enough to sense he didn’t really feel comfortable with it. Not yet at least. 

“Sokka, can you tell that story about the saber-tooth moose lion? I don’t think Zuko’s heard that one yet.”

Sokka gasped in excitement, his train of thought successfully derailed. “Foo Foo Cuddlypoops!”

—

The next day, Zuko had forgotten all about the attention he got last night. Sure, he thought about it some when he was trying to go to sleep that night. And sure, maybe he clutched onto his midsection a little tighter than usual as he dozed off, thinking about the loud laughter drawn out of Sokka from playful hands. It didn’t…it wasn’t like he was actually thinking about it. Not in any real way. It was just something interesting to ponder on. A sensation relatively foreign to him that would probably make him laugh like he didn’t often get to do so freely. And thinking about the fact that the rest of the group seemed curious if it would work on him was definitely…it was totally nothing, really.

So like–he’s forgotten all about it now. It’s a new day, and Zuko’s got work to do. 

He and Aang had been training their fire all morning, and it was finally time for lunch. Sokka had gone fishing earlier, so they all kept to doing their own thing while he cooked over the fire (a fire Aang had lit himself, by the way. Zuko felt a weird sense of pride that Aang was seriously getting the hang of this, and using it in a way he knew would make Uncle proud).

Zuko decided on meditation while he waited. He sat on the ground shirtless, honoring his Uncle as he let the sun warm his skin and settle the fire inside him. Meditation like this seemed impossible to him just a couple years ago, his impatience once too thin and his temper too fraught. But now, it came so much easier. Zuko could feel the sun working wonders in his body, keeping his fire at a healthy state while also giving him time to clear his full mind. It was truly relaxing.

Well, it was relaxing, until he felt a set of hands scribbling at the base of his spine. “GAAHA–!” Zuko was quickly jolted out of his zone with a yelp, arching his back away with flailing arms. 

“What the–?!” Zuko whipped his head around to find Toph giggling behind him on the ground. “Toph, what the heck?! Can’t you see I’m meditating!”

“Well duh, Sparky, that’s why I did it,” She wiggled her fingers in the air teasingly with a grin. “You never even saw it coming!”

Zuko couldn’t will the flush from his face. He felt so embarrassed, getting played by a 12 year old girl like that. Zuko groaned into his palm, “Whatever, just don’t do it again. Let me finish before–”

“Lunch is ready!” Sokka yelled across camp, using Suki’s fan to waft the smell towards his friends. Zuko groaned again, scowling at the girl who couldn’t even see him doing it. 

“Time to eat, Jumpy,” Toph snickered, getting up and following the smell. Zuko rolled his eyes before throwing his shirt back on and following behind.

For the next 10 minutes the group sat around the smoky logs no longer lit by fire, eating their food and sharing how their days have gone so far.

“Guys, Zuko showed me this really cool firebending trick earlier! I’ll show you once my stomach’s settled,” Aang said excitedly, taking a bite of the berries Katara had scavenged for him. 

“It’s actually a pretty complicated move. I was surprised you picked it up so quick,” Zuko said, feeling a little shy. He was finally warming up enough to talk without being addressed first during these meal times, and silently hoped he wouldn’t get called out on it.

“Well, that’s Aang for you,” Katara smiled towards the Avatar. “Actually, it sorta frustrated me when I first started teaching him waterbending. It took me ages to master those skills, and yet it took him no time at all.” She crossed her arms at him, teasing as if it still bothered her after all this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” said Zuko. “I guess it doesn’t bother me as much since I’ve already seen all the crazy stuff he can do with the other elements. It’s not exactly new for me to see him be so…” Zuko waved his hand in the air trying to find the word, but once he did he got a little embarrassed and decided against it. “Well, you know.”

“Nooo, c’mon, what were you gonna say!” Aang grinned beside him, poking his arm. “You were totally gonna say ‘amazing’ right?”

Zuko sported a little grin of his own, peeking an eye towards Aang. “Actually, I was gonna say annoying,” Zuko lied, almost chuckling at Aang’s gasp.

“Ohoh snap!” Sokka giggled, stuffing his face with more fish. “You just gonna take that, Aang?”

Toph suddenly let her stool drop to the ground, the loud bang catching everyone’s attention. “I know how you can get him back.”

Zuko froze, staring nervously her way. Aang caught the look he was giving, and was immediately intrigued.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Aang asked, before Toph leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made them both snicker.

Aang stood up with crossed arms, unable to stop smiling. “You know, I just remembered a certain conversation we had last night about a certain weakness of yours.” Zuko’s eyes widened, his gaze darting around each person to gauge their reactions. They were all smiling, and Zuko felt a nervous twitch at the corner of his own lips.

“Cmon, seriously? I know what you told him, Toph, and that was not what you think it was. You just…surprised me while I was concentrating,” Zuko defended, trying really hard not to smile right now.

“Yeah, tell that to the giggle you let slip,” Toph snickered.

Sokka caught on quickly with a chuckle. “Oh, buddy, you are so in for it now,” he tossed his last bite of fish into his mouth. “Take it from me, it’s best to just let it happen instead of running. If you run now, everybody’s gonna come after you.”

Zuko froze, darting his eyes back to Aang towering over him. The Avatar wiggled his fingers in the air, and Zuko knew what he had to do.

With a groan, Zuko took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks with air, and tensed his entire body. He pulled his arms close to his chest and clenched his eyes closed. He was gonna take it like a champ. A very awkward champ.

But instead of the tickle attack he had expected, he heard everyone around start laughing. He peeked one eye open and saw Aang doubled over holding his stomach through his giggles.

Katara snickered behind her hand, “For a former prince, you really can be such a dork sometimes!” Zuko blushed, untensing his body.

“Sokka told me not to run so–!” Zuko waved his arms around awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He sighed behind his hands, feeling warm in the face. “I really don’t get you people sometimes.”

Aang giggled, walking behind Zuko and plopping down. “It’s okay, you’ll figure us out eventually,” he said, before digging his fingers into the back of Zuko’s ribs. 

“AH! Ahaha–wait! Aang!” Zuko sputtered out a surprised giggle before pinching his lips closed, squirming and kicking his feet into the dirt. He giggled in his throat, trying hard not to let any sounds escape his lips. Somehow, this was even more embarrassing than Zuko thought it would be.

“Oh cmon, he’s trying to hold it in!” Toph complained, pointing at her ears, “I can’t exactly see your reactions, idiot, I’m gonna need to hear it.”

Zuko shook his head, but it was getting really hard to contain himself when Aang was doing that to his sides. He kept letting out little squeaks and growls, but he could feel his chest was filling with giggles and knew it would be no time before a real laugh leaked through.

“Get his armpits! That always kills you and Sokka,” Katara called out, getting an offended, “Hey, what’s this got to do with me?!” from Sokka.

Aang listened, tickling with so much concentration his tongue poked through his lips. He tried sticking his fingers under Zuko’s arms, but the prince kept them glued tight to his sides. Aang stopped with a chuckle, looking toward the siblings. “He won’t let me in there!”

“I can’t hehelp it!” Zuko complained, but didn’t move from his spot on the log. He panted, relieved for a break, but he could tell Aang wasn’t finished just yet.

“At least try to move your arms away. C’mon, I wanna hear you laugh!” Aang said, giving Zuko a poke to his lower back. When Zuko yelped and arched away, Aang snickered and tried again. And again. And again. Aang kept poking at his back like a typewriter, and Zuko let out the quickest set of giggles before standing up and backing away nervously.

“I–I cahan’t. I really–there’s no way–” Zuko shook his head, embarrassed but clearly having some fun himself. Everyone giggled at his reaction, amused by how ticklish and unable to take it he seemed to be.

“Wait, okay, now I want a turn,” Sokka stood up from his log and walked towards Zuko with wiggly fingers. Zuko shrinked away with a nervous chuckle, his arms wrapped around his midsection. 

“Noho way, this is ridiculous–”

“Oh cmoooon! I’ll let you get me back after!” Sokka locked his hands together to beg, “Pleeease Zuko?” He pouted and bat his eyelashes at the boy. Zuko just scoffed and rolled his eyes with a grin peeking at the corner of his lips.

“You are so stupid,” he grumbled. “That’s not gonna work on me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe not, but I think I make a pretty good argument. I’m super fun to tickle, right guys?” Sokka looked around the room. Katara shrugged.

“Eh. You’re super loud. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Katara! Help me here!”

“Er–buuuut you do snort like a pig sometimes! That’s pretty funny,” she smiled toward Zuko, who just gave an incredulous look back. “I think you should do it. He’s pretty easy to fight back if you hate it.”

Zuko took a second to think it over. No one launched towards him, no one took him by surprise. Everyone just waited to see if he’d actually be okay with it.

Spirits. Sometimes it’s really annoying how nice this group can be. 

With a sigh, Zuko spread his arms out to the side, holding his head up high (but kept his eyes closed for good measure. It’s really embarrassing to look everyone in the eyes right now).

“Alright, yes!” Sokka clapped his hands together, making his way behind Zuko. “Okay, see how long you can keep your arms up for. Aang and I play this game all the time.”

Zuko expected the tickle to come right after, but…nothing happened. He waited a few seconds, and still, nothing. Finally he got frustrated, and peeked his eyes open to see Sokka’s hands floating just above his armpits. Seeing that freaked Zuko out way more than he expected, shooting his arms down with a yelp. Unfortunately for him, all that did was trap Sokka’s hands right where they wanted to be, and they immediately dug into his armpits like no tomorrow.

Zuko shrieked, curling up as much as he could while standing before crumbling into a fit of screechy cackles and giggles.

“Oh man, I wasn’t sure that trick would work on you!” Sokka giggled, his fingertips gently but efficiently digging into Zuko’s underarms with no plan on moving.

Zuko was in stitches. He wasn’t expecting this to be so unbearable, but spirits were his armpits ticklish. He could barely get a word out, pretty much babbling nonsense through his endless laughter.

“Ahaha! W-waahaha! It-It–-gggahaha nohoho!” Zuko cackled, squirming from side to side before crumbling to his knees in laughter. 

“Finally!” said Toph, punching Aang in the shoulder happily. “Took you softies long enough to get him actually laughing! If it was me tickling Sparky, he’d probably be in tears by now.”

“And that’s exactly why you aren’t allowed to tickle him,” Katara said, watching the scene with a smile. “Not yet at least. Clearly this is new to Zuko, we don’t wanna run him off when we just got him.”

“St-stahahaha! Ahaha guys!” Zuko rolled onto his back, his body overcome with giggles when Sokka started pinching lightly at his sides. 

“‘Guys?’ Don’t look at us, it’s Sokka you’ve gotta bargain with,” Toph teased, popping one of Aang’s berries into her mouth.

“Yeah! What do I get in return for stopping, huh?” Sokka said, pinching upward toward his lower ribs. That got a real good shriek out of Zuko, and everyone around couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I-! Gahaha, I dohohon’t–fffaahaha knohohow!” Zuko threw his head back as Sokka tickled all over his ribs, finally grabbing onto Sokka’s wrists and pulling him off. Sokka pulled back with no fight, only giving him another poke in the belly to hear Zuko yelp before sitting back and letting the boy collect himself.

Zuko panted, a stray giggle escaping him as he breathed. He clutched his stomach and threw a hand over his warm face, covering his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna look everyone in the eyes after that display. Oh spirits, what was he thinking? That was such a bad idea letting them take him out so easily like that. They’ll never take him seriously again, he’s supposed to be Aang’s teacher for pete’s sake, shoot this might be really bad, this might—

“Ohoho man that was awesome Zuko! You lasted way longer than I thought you would!” Aang giggled from above Zuko’s head. Zuko peeked his eyes out and saw Aang holding up a hand for him to high five.

Zuko couldn’t help the little giggle that slipped out at that. The Avatar is so…silly. He groaned and swatted Aang’s hand away, making everyone laugh. 

“After you get Sokka back, it’s my turn to play!” Aang straightened his back quickly, making the T-stance with his arms that Zuko held just a minute prior. “I bet I can last longer than you!”

“Pfff-” Toph laughed, slapping a hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Twinkle-toes, your record is currently four seconds without begging. You should probably start thinking your bets through before making them.”

“You can go ahead and have your turn. I’ll get Sokka when he least expects it,” Zuko grinned, sitting up and shooting his attacker a mischievous look. Sokka gulped with a nervous giggle, darting towards Aang to tickle him and change the subject away from himself.

“Ahaha wait! I wahasn’t ready!” Aang cried, immediately crumbling to the floor in a fit of childish shrieks and giggles.

Zuko watched on with a smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. These people were good. They worked with him at his pace. They understood things take time for him, and they’re okay with that. 

Zuko can tell they already see him as their friend. He’s starting to think he can see them in the same light.

-

thanks for reading! consider reblogging if u enjoyed hehe <3

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #atla tickling #lee!zuko #ticklish!zuko #ler!aang #ler!sokka #ler!katara #ler!toph #lee!sokka #ticklish!sokka #avatar tickling

[saturncodedstarlette]

[Y/N talks to people to get information while Leon watching from afar]

Leon : I don’t understand why I couldn’t just ask them myself, it might be even faster

Y/N, chuckles : I’m sure they feel more comfortable talking to me

Leon : Why would I make them uncomfortable?

Y/N : Well..

Y/N : It’s probably due to your reputation

Leon : Reputation? I have a reputation?

Y/N : Look, there’s no easier way to say this but you’re not approachable, Leon. Or even look approachable. You can be a little intimidating—

Leon : So in other words, I look *gestures to his face* scary?

Y/N : No— well— I meant—

Leon, brows furrowed, tilt your chin up to meet his eyes : Do YOU think I’m scary?

Y/N, too awestruck to say anything :

Leon, sighs internally : (even my beloved finds me scary, what am I even doing 😔)

Y/N, internally : (OMG OMG WHEN DID HE GET SO HOT?!! I know he’s a cutie in the past but this—! 😳)

#Resident evil #Resident evil incorrect quotes #Resident evil x reader #Resident evil Leon #Resident evil Leon Kennedy #Leon S. Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x you #Leon S. Kennedy x reader #Leon S. Kennedy x you #Leon Kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #Resident evil Leon x reader #Original prompt : X-Files | S1E3 #🥃 | Leon S. Kennedy

[outsideratheart]

A/N: I know it’s been a while since I posted the first snippet of this fic but I’ve been struggling with writer’s block which is think is just about gone.

To apologise here is another little part of it.

“Alexia, that is enough!” Lucy slams her fist on the locker before turning to her captain “She has come to this team and done nothing but good. She plays well for us and gives it her all on the pitch. Off it she makes the effort and yes sometimes she says no to things but isn’t that her right? You stand there as our captain but look at you, you’re nothing but a bully. I am ashamed to say i’m your team mate right now. That girl has been through hell these past couple of years and since coming here all you keep doing is reminding her of what has happened. You are obsessed with her. Look around, no one else is digging for information. No one is making her uncomfortable on a daily basis”

“She is lying to us. She won’t tell us where she was for over a year. She is hiding something and that isn’t fair on us” Alexia tried to defend her actions.

“Isn’t fair? Are you really that self centred? You have no right to talk about what is and is not fair. I don’t care if you are my captain, I won’t stand by you while you treat my best friend like she has done something wrong. You, Alexia, are a —“

“Lucy” The whole locker room turns upon hearing your voice “I have given up on Alexia, it’s time you do too”

“No! I won’t let her talk about you that way. You don’t deserve this”

“No I don’t but —“

“Y/N” Lucy begs you to let her fight you case.

“Walk away Lucy” 

A stare down takes place between you and Lucy. A few seconds later the defender grabs her stuff and leaves the room. To everyone else you are calm and collected but Keira recognises the look in your eye, you are furious.

“I want everyone to listen to me and listen good. My past is none of your business. To those who have let the obsession go, thank you. To those that haven’t” you look Alexia dead in the eye “I want nothing to do with you. I will remain civil on the pitch. Other than that I ask you to stay away from me. That’s if you can respect my wishes. I know it has been hard so far”

You quietly gather your things and try to ignore the multiple sets of eyes on you. With each second you can feel your chest getting tighter and you know it is only a matter second before you will no longer be able to control your breathing. You just needed to get out of there, away from prying eyes.

The hallway is the furthest you got. You mind was filled of flashbacks, the moments that you tried so hard to bury. The past was not a pretty place, not the last year, but you know that it was only a matter of time before it came crashing down on you. 

“Y/N, are you ok?” Mapi and Ingrid are by your side, clearly the couple had left just after you.

“Natalia, she, she” 

Ingrid and Mapi shared a look, who was Natalia? They had never heard you mention a Natalia before. Both of them didn’t know what to do. Whilst you had become friends with the pair, they didn’t know you well enough to cope with this moment. 

Luckily for them Keira appears out of nowhere. The English woman clearly equipped with what to do.

“Get Lucy, now!” She whisper shouted and Ingrid goes running hoping to catch the defender before she leaves.

“Keira—Natalia”

“I know, I know. We can talk about her later if you want. Right now, I need to focus on me. Can you do that?” 

You nod your head as tears flow down your cheeks. 

“What happened?” Lucy rushes over to you.

“We found her on the floor. She kept talking about Natalia” 

“She told you?” Lucy asks shocked. She knew you wasn’t ready to tell them team but in a state of panic you might be let it slip.

“No. She only said her name” Mapi says. She couldn’t take her eyes off you. This wasn’t a panic attack, no she had seen one of those before. This was something much more intense.

A few minutes pass and Keira manages to keep your breathing under control but you’re still not ready to move. Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid stay close making sure to tell anyone who passes to keep moving.

“What is going on?” Alexia asks with concern, a concern that doesn’t reach Lucy in fact her asking is the worst thing she could have done.

“Get away from her” Lucy is up on her feet and pushing Alexia backwards. She would has fallen to the fall if not for the wall behind her “This is all your fault. You see this, you see her, this is what you have done to her”

“Lucy” you reach up and take her hand. The defender used her strength to pull you up. 

You, Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid walk towards the exit of the stadium.

“Y/N” Alexia’s voice is soft and it is only now that she realises she might have taken things too far.

You turn around to face the Catalonian. For the first time since arriving you make no effort to hide the pain you have felt on a daily basis.

“I want nothing to do with you Alexia”

#woso x reader #alexia Putellas x reader

[chloeangelic]

addressing the drama (with receipts)

I wanted to have my ducks in a row before speaking out instead of just responding; I’m not doing this to change anyone’s opinions - it’s really not possible change someone’s perception of me even if it’s based on falsehoods - but I need to do this so I know I’ve said and shown what needs to be shown, and people can do with it what they please. 

To the readers and writers who have blocked me, unfollowed me, and mutuals who have stopped talking to me over this - I’m really, really sad you didn’t come to me first and give me the opportunity to explain what was going on. I understand if you wanted to distance yourself from drama but I also need you to understand that this was not discourse-drama I willingly got myself into. This was a month of frequent harassment and slander that eventually turned into bullying by a group of people using false info, hiding behind side blogs and anons, and I hoped it would blow over but it never seemed to stop. With anons turned off for most of the last two months, people have gone to my friends’ inboxes instead to harass them about me (and insult them in the process), and I can’t do this anymore.

I feel so alienated and disliked in this community that I can’t go on the dash without feeling like I shouldn’t interact with anyone out of fear that they’ll get uncomfortable seeing me in their notifs. People keep saying they want the community to get better and then they jump on the bandwagon of vague posting and RBing without taking a second to verify the claims, clearly not realizing how much hurt it causes to perpetuate it. If you’re reading this, I  hope your name isn't the next one they pull out of the hat when they want someone new to push off the platform. 

Explanations, timelines and receipts below. 

-

For anyone waiting for an explanation regarding the posts and anons about me that have circulated for weeks, or waiting for receipts proving or disproving that I’m a mean girl who spends my time talking shit, here you go. I am so beyond hurt, I don’t even know what to say. I’m floored, I’m so disappointed in this community and I’m so sad. In the last two weeks, I stayed up until 4am one night receiving screenshots of posts and anons about me, I cried, I tried to understand why this has happened to me, and I have sat here day after day with no answers. 

If you think I’m being melodramatic, try losing a quarter of your mutuals and having a bunch of people block you when you’ve had either no interaction with them or they’ve all been positive, and see how that feels, on top of constant rumors about you being a terrible person when you know you’ve barely had any negative interactions with anyone on the platform. I can’t be on tumblr any longer without exonerating myself and putting it out there that all of this has been one gigantic mess based on lies about me, seemingly compounded by grievances people have against Gracie (some one whose personal conversations have nothing to do with me). Either I do this, or I log out forever and only post on ao3, cause I feel like the fucking grim reaper here. Posts about me being an awful person are still circulating, despite the original post being deleted and the follow up stating that the OP has talked to me and they have apologized.

I’m not naming names in this. I will be using person A/B/C/D to make it less confusing. I’ve removed identifying information from the screenshots because even though I’m hurt by these people, I know that they will get dogpiled and harassed if I identify them, and I want it all to stop. Several have apologized to me and I have accepted. 

Sometime in December, rumors started circulating that there was a “big/elite writers discord” where they talked shit about small writers (I’m not in any discords specifically for writers and I have never heard of such a server). At about the same time, person A - someone who was very active in my own, now-deleted discord server, started frequently vagueposting about me, calling me a mean girl and, intentionally or not, made it seem like I was part of this “elite group of writers”. This is someone who I have never had a negative interaction with and who seemingly out of nowhere decided that I call myself elite and I’m a terrible person. 

Person B had some grievances with myself, Iris, and Gracie it seemed, so they went to person C and accused us of talking shit in our voice chats. I assume person A and B have talked about me at some point and validated each other’s claims, but I can't know that for sure. Person B messaged me from a burner account and apologized, then seemingly deleted the account after I responded.

Gracie frequently posted about us three chatting, and although I understand this might have felt alienating to some, many writers are open about having group chats with each other. All we did was write, edit, and Gracie sometimes made memes. We talked about non-fic stuff often, and when Gracie had an issue with other writers and she was upset, we talked about it. That’s what friends do. She knows that I believe those situations were handled poorly. One of those situations came to light recently - I had a very pleasant conversation with the writer involved, and we are still in touch.

I have spoken to person C, who posted the most “popular” smear post about me and some of my friends. They retracted their statements and profusely apologized to us, admitting it was based on stuff they heard from person B, showing me screenshots of the conversation. However, their original posts are still circulating through reblogs despite being deleted from their account. 

Person D also posted about me and my friends, however their post was sort of ridiculous, accusing me of spending more time replying to anons than writing. I found this funny, but the way they slut shamed my friend was absolutely not humorous, and dragging a random writer in to criticize them was a strange attempt at adding fuel to the fire. 

-

And for the receipts, 

I blocked person A after seeing a handful of vague posts clearly about me, and after they interacted with every single rude anon posted about me that I saw. I think that’s reasonable, no? I’m not gonna post screenshots of their posts cause I honestly just don’t want to look at them again, they make me feel kind of sick if I'm honest, but if anyone doesn’t believe me, they are welcome to DM me and I will send. 

Person B messaged me, admitted to partaking in this mess, and apologized. This is part of a LONG message:

Person C apologized over message and called me on discord. We had a conversation clearing things up, they deleted their posts and wrote a public apology. 

If you need any proof that person B’s claims were, in fact, baseless, look at this exchange between person B and person C after person C had cleared things up with me.

Person D honestly just creeps me out, cause what the fuck is this? Fine if you don’t like me based on my writing or my persona on here but… Why the witch hunt? 

ETA: Person C asked person D to take down their post and they never responded. This was sent prior to that, I know the full context, I just thought this specific part was worth sharing to show how vile some people allow themselves to be behind burner accounts.

What kind of behavior is this? This was from a sideblog, and I don't know what their main account is. It creeps me the fuck out knowing this person is lurking somewhere in the community.

I have hated every moment of this. None of this has been fun for me. This has completely fucked up my motivation to write and my enjoyment of it, it has made me anxious, it has messed with my self esteem, and it has made me want to log out of Tumblr and not come back. 

Please, I beg, if you have an issue with me, just come to me and I promise I will have a conversation with you. You can’t tell people’s tone over anon and I don’t think that’s a good way to have a conversation, especially one about something that should be solved in private, so they remain off, but my DM’s are open. 

I'm so sick of seeing vagueposts and trying to decipher if they're about me. Having to do that a bunch of times messes with your head.

I'm not sure what to do moving forward, but I needed to say my piece. I don't want to talk about this again, I want to put this behind me. I seriously hope this doesn't wreck my last remaining want to share my writing on here.

Thanks again to everywhere who has supported me in my DMs and comments, you mean the world to me 🤍🤍🤍 And if you found yourself duped by all this but change your opinion on me now or eventually, I won't hold a grudge, and I'm happy to speak again and pick up where we left off.

[yanderes-galore]

Kamisato Ayato (Genshin Impact) Romantic with a darling who is a commoner? Prompts #21 & #26 on Yandere Writing Prompts #2

Sure I can! I watched some of his Story Quest so I think I know enough ^^ First time writing Ayato, I hope he comes off as accurate.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Kamisato Ayato Prompts 21 and 26

"You don’t realize how powerful you are with me by your side."

"I can make all of your pain go away. You just have to say the words."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Coercion, Stalking, Implied attempts at an arranged marriage, Delusional behavior, Kissing (Hand, Lips), Forced relationship.

There's a feeling tension as you sit in front of the Head of the Kamisato Clan. You feel his light purple gaze never leaves yours as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Not many met him in public... let alone catch his eye.

Yet you two have become friends months ago. You provided him with a way to distract himself from his duties, even if he couldn't speak with you often. Despite this... Ayato still managed to make time for his commoner companion.

He's always been kind towards you... but you have no idea just how much he knows about you.

"Let's get to the point, my dear." Ayato finally speaks, his hands folded in front of him. You can tell by his gaze he's thinking of something important. You shift in your seat, uncomfortable by the intimidating aura around him.

"We don't often have private conversation, Ayato." You speak, trying to ease the tension. "Is this something really important or are you just busy?"

"Something has been troubling me lately..." Ayato admits with a sigh. "I heard your family has been having trouble financially recently?"

Your breath hitches at his words. You wanted to ask how he knew that... but you assumed he could get the information if he wanted. He's a powerful man in Inazuma, after all.

"That shouldn't concern you." You laugh softly, concern on your face. Ayato picks up on this and shakes his head.

"How could it not? As Head of the Kamisato clan, I have my ways of getting information," Ayato reaches across the small table, but you only respond with more confusion. "I like to look after those close to me as I work."

"Then why bring this up? This is an issue concerning my family...." You cut him off, discomfort rising as he glares for a moment.

"It's an issue for me too. How am I supposed to focus on work if I know you could be going hungry or doing something unsafe?" Ayato continues before smiling. "So I have a proposal."

"I don't need your money, Ayato." You frown, Ayato shaking his head again.

"That isn't quite what I had in mind..." Ayato hums, quickly capturing your hand in his own. "But you are close... I do wish for you to rely on me."

You catch on to what Ayato is implying and try to pull your hand away. However, his grip only tightens with a disapproving look. You just didn't get it, huh?

"My dear..." Ayato sighs, stroking the top of your hand with his thumb. "You don’t realize how powerful you are with me by your side."

"Ayato, we can find another way-" You try to reason, but Ayato cuts you off.

"I'm certain you feel a connection between us, don't you? You're just nervous." Ayato whispers, a loving look in his eyes as he pulls your hand closer to his face. "If you just tell me you feel the same... I can pull you and your family out of your issues."

Ayato presses his lips to your hand softly, his soft purple gaze still never leaving yours. He looked like he wanted to give you the world. He'd do anything just to have you in his grasp.

"You're implying a relationship... marriage." You choke out the words, watching at Ayato nods with a smile. "Ayato, I-"

"I can make all of your pain go away..." He kisses your hand again, lightly licking the skin. "You just have to say the words."

You want to refuse. You care for Ayato as a friend, but didn't entirely jump at the thought of marriage. To you... he felt out of your league.

But Ayato saw you as his everything... he needed you to ease his stresses and provide him pleasures.

Ayato stands up from his seat, strolling over to you before yanking you close. He sees the hesitancy in your eyes. He wants to smother it... he wants you.

"I just want to hear it from you. In an instant I can get everything ready. You won't have to worry about Mora ever again." Ayato whispers, leaning closer. "Just say you love me... say you'll be with me, my love."

You go to refuse, but his grip tightens when you pull away. His gaze is dark when you don't respond. He treasures loyalty and obedience...

If you don't give him such... he'll have to teach you.

"I love you..." You whisper upon pondering your options. Truth is... you fear what Ayato could do if you refused. The darkness in his eyes scares you... and only seems to go away when you comply to him.

Ayato's breath hitches once the words echo in his ears. All of a sudden he's all smiles, no hint of darkness. He moves his grip to your face with adoration on his face.

"Good choice, my love..." Ayato praises. "I'll give you the world while by your side."

It's then the Head of the Kamisato Clan kisses you deeply...

Sealing your fate.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere ayato #yandere ayato kamisato #yandere kamisato ayato

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Leona Kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #notes from the writing raven #question #tw//depression #tw//suicidal ideation #tw//suicide #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Cheka Kingscholar #Falena Kingscholar #Farena Kingscholar #tw//substance abuse #tw//dieting #Jamil Viper #Idia Shroud #Ruggie Bucchi #Jack Howl #Savanaclaw #tw//homophobia