#but then again that just gives ME room to insert myself self indulgently and date them myself

[tsubasagirl]

All Yours (NSFW! Gladion x afab!Reader)

18+!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Gladion and reader are aged-up 18 year olds (unlike the canon ages where Gladion is 13-16 and the protagonist is 11), therefore they are consenting adults. I don’t intend to write anything illegal here… Also this is my first time writing actual smut, and I’ve been imagining/fantasising about this one-shot(?) for a long time now. There is another smutty Gladion x afab!Reader (possibly a sequel to this one) that I’ve also had in mind for a while, but I guess we’ll see how this one goes first. Enjoy this whopping 4.3k word long, bitter-sweet/angsty, first time [uh-oh word] one-shot(?)…

Oh and a bonus sketch dump at the end, altho it doesn’t exactly relate to the story and it was drawn over 2 years ago (it’s very self-indulgent; I felt too ashamed and kinda afraid to share it anywhere, especially there being the controversial opinions on self-inserts and all… probably gonna be a tumblr-exclusive art post ahehe…) Of course, there’s just naughty stuff and swearing in here, but nothing extreme to leave a warning about (Also again, as I’ve said with my previous fanfics, feel free to give me any constructive feedback :))

It’s been around a year since I became the champion of Alola, and a year since Gladion became the Aether Foundation president. We also started dating shortly after we claimed our respective roles. We were both often busy doing our own thing, but every once in a while, we would meet up to spend quality time together. Otherwise, we would try our best to get in contact with each other during the little free time we had.

However, from the past few months, Gladion has gotten much busier with his duties as president, so our brief catch-ups via text and phone calls became less frequent, up to a few weeks ago where he stopped contacting me all together. Of course, I’m also busy with my own duties as champion, but as time passes with zero response from him, my mind has been getting more clouded with his absence. It’s for the best if I don’t nag him and let him focus on his work. I’ve also been refraining myself from going to Aether Foundation to check up on him in person, although occasionally, I’ve been asking Wicke on how things have been with him. It was always something like “He’s had to deal with several different responsibilities everyday.” I would also tell her that I trust her to look after him in the meantime, but even so, knowing how reckless and dedicated Gladion is when it comes to accomplishing his goals, I bet he hasn’t been eating or sleeping much…

It’s been almost three months since I’ve last seen him in person. I’m normally content with just texting or calling him regularly, but not being able to play with his soft blonde hair, not being able to stare deeply into his eyes, not being able to melt into his touch — I miss it all so much. I miss him so goddamn much. Whether you wanna see it as deep love or borderline obsession, it’s almost impossible for me to live on normally without it lingering in my mind 24/7.

I mostly have it all together, but it doesn’t help that I’m ultimately just a teenager who tends to get very emotional, sometimes feeling a certain fiery sensation that can’t easily be put out. Every once in a while, when I’m all alone in my room, my mind is completely cluttered with Gladion — I can only visualise his sharp emerald orbs, hungrily eating me up from head to toe, his rasp voice uttering my name with delight, his warm arms wrapped around my form as I immerse into his scent, knowing that he is mine and that I am his — I lose myself in my fantasies of him. Caressing my breasts and fondling their peaks, letting my essence almost soak my bed, massaging my pearl and sliding digits into my folds. It would be sensual at first, but the pace would soon hasten as I think about him more, imagining that it’s him playing with my body, fucking me with his fingers, teasing me with his tongue, satisfying me with his shaft. I want him. I want all of him. I would cry out for him, longing for his love and yearning for his attention.

Now, it’s come to the point where I have a day all to myself… except I have no idea on what to do... How did I end up here? Not mentally but physically standing here in front of the route 8 motel… I’m a mess. I probably look like a fool, having no proper business here, only in sandals, board shorts and a loose tank.

This is where I first met him outside of battle. I just barged in, only to be scolded to get out. What did I even expect back then? Everyone can agree that Gladion comes off as intimidating, and yeah, I was a little frightened when he scolded me, but I also can’t help but chuckle at the memory of that brief encounter. Remembering that moment where you looked miserable after Guzma defeated you, and you muttering how lonely you were… I wish I had met you sooner.

I… didn’t think much into visiting here, huh…? Don’t really have anything else to do… My Pokémon are resting back at home for all their hard work, so it’s just me here at the moment. I hesitantly step into the motel lobby.

I’m greeted by the owner with a gentle smile. “Welco— Oh! Champion [y/n]! What brings you here today?” I nod and smile weakly at her. “Hi. I… just wanted to check something in one of your motel rooms. Do… do you remember the blonde boy who had stayed here up until a year ago?” I stand kinda awkwardly as she thinks for a moment. What am I doing? “Oh, him! The boy who stayed here for two years? My, he sure was a mysterious one. Do you know him?” She looks at me curiously. I stammer, “Y-yes. I don’t know if you know, but from when he left, he’s been really busy taking care of his family business elsewhere, and… he also happens to be my boyfriend, ahehe…” The woman’s face lights up and slightly blushes. “Awww young love! I’m happy for you two.” I scratch the back of my head shyly and blush at the statement. “Thank you, I-I guess… Since he’s been so busy… he… he asked me to come here to find s… something for him… something that he may have accidentally left behind when he was staying here.” What kind of stupid request is this? “Is that so?” She asks with slight confusion. “I don’t recall any lost objects in his room after he left, unless I didn’t check properly.”

She offers the key for the room to me. “No one is staying in there at the moment, so you can take a look in there. I trust that you won’t make a mess in there haha!” I grab the key from her hand and nod, “thank you kindly.” Just as I’m about to turn around and walk out, she suddenly says, “um also, you… don’t look too well. Are you feeling okay?” I pause for a moment, a little caught off guard. Before I put any thought into it, I retort, “I… I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit tired from all the matches I’ve been having lately. It’s… also quite hot today so I probably look a little sweaty haha…” Her concerned expression remains unchanged but she replies, “o… okay… I hope you find the lost thing for your boyfriend. Say hi to him for me.” I only nod in response with a weaker smile. Jeez what is wrong with me?

As soon as I close the door behind me, I stumble my way hastily to Gladion’s former room a little too quickly, fumbling the door handle to unlock it, and bust inside before anyone else sees how much of a mess I am right now. The room is silent and empty. Of course it is. I look around slowly yet frantically, feeling slightly light-headed. Is it the heat, or am I just really tired? What… what am I doing here again? My eyes find a mirror to the right of the room, reflecting my pathetic, slouched posture. God I really do look awful.

My head whips to the bed in front of me. My body automatically flops upon it, slightly bouncing, face first. I groan loudly. I’m such an idiot. I peak one eye to lazily look around the room again. Looks slightly dusty in here. Seems like no one has been here for a while, yet I kinda feel at home. I’m already engulfed by the scent of the bed. Is it just me, or does it smell like him? Am I going crazy? He hasn’t been here it’s been a year of course it’s clean and not fresh with his scent.

I feel a bit more calm as the scent throws me into a trance. I unconsciously release a moan as my hands grip the sheets tightly. It’s like his scent has fully enraptured me. God, I’m hopeless. I tear up, kicking my sandals off my feet and bringing my legs close to me. I don’t care that I’m messing up the sheets at this point. I miss him so fucking much. Before I know it, one of my hands is deep under my shorts and underwear, feeling myself. Not only am I wet with tears but squirming out of horniness. His scent is intensifying the sensation. “Fuck,” I whimper, picking up the pace with my rubbing, “G-Gladion…”

I continue to play with my clit for a few minutes, when I hear creaking from a few rooms down outside. I jolt up and quickly rub my hand dry on my shirt. Crap, my shorts look slightly damp. Hope it just looks like sweat. The door creaks ajar as an oh-too-familiar face peaks from behind it. I briefly freeze in place, gawking at the surprise visitor. He opens the door slowly as he stumbles inside with slight hesitation and possibly shame in his eyes. I suddenly bolt towards him, almost tackling him against the wall as I throw my arms around him in the tightest embrace.

“GLADION! WHAT THE FUCK!” I cry out, sobbing into his shirt. He has one hand rubbing my back and the other caressing my head. He mumbles into my hair, “I’m so sorry, [y/n]. I… don’t think I can give you a good enough of an explanation for being away from you for so long…” I look up at him, feeling like a complete mess but finally whole again, my vision blurry with my overflowing tears. I fight the urge to slap him for making me feel this way, feeling internally destroyed to see how guilty and tired his own face looks. I dig my fingers into his scalp and grumble, “I’m… sorry too… for overreacting like this…” I shove my face into his chest again, engulfing his actual scent this time, “I… I just missed you so fucking much.” He embraces me tighter, stuttering, “you have every right to react this way. I decided to stay away from you so I could focus on my work, yet somehow we still found our way to each other again.”

I pull away and grab his hands, looking up at him again. “Why… why are you here…?” He grasps my hands tenderly and replies, “Wicke forced me to take a day off, and I found myself not knowing what to do, so my only idea was… to come back to where I kinda first started… dunno if that sounds weird…” His thumb rubs onto mind, looking a bit off to the side nervously. I stare blankly for a moment, then giggle, “hehe, funny enough… me too actually… I also have the day off today and didn’t know what to do. Next thing I knew, I found myself wandering here in hopes I could… see you?” Gladion stares back, wide-eyed for another moment, then chuckles, “well… what a turn of events.” We both laugh nervously but happily, and embrace each other once more. It feels like it’s been such a long time since either of us have been this happy, despite how stupid this situation is.

I tug his hand as I guide him to sit beside me on the bed. We stare at each other in awe, feeling kinda refreshed for the first time in what seems like in ages. “So… how’s everything at the foundation?” I ask, slightly swinging my legs back and forth. “Things have been really busy and strenuous, of course. However, I think I’ve gotten kind of a good hang of operations now,” Gladion explains as he briefly looks off into the distance,  “and better news — from what I heard from Lillie, she’s only been getting much stronger as a trainer, and mother’s recovery has been going really well,” he rambles with excitement in his eyes, which I can only adore helplessly. “I’m glad things are getter better for you,” I say with a smile. He looks back at me, “…how about you?”

My body gets fluttery all over from the sight of his cute face. God how I missed seeing it, it drives me crazy in love sometimes. “Still going strong as champion!” I smile widely as I playfully flex one of my arms, “there’ve been some tough battles, sure, but I’m still the best! Although, I’m curious if you’ve thought up of some new battle tactics yourself, President Gladion.” His face flushes but he can’t help but beam proudly for me and remarks, “[y/n], you know that I don’t like to be called president… but that’s my champion. As expected of you to remain undefeated.” We’re both grinning from ear to ear as we intertwine our fingers. His face suddenly drops as he looks down and lifts our hands off the bed. “Why is it… slightly damp here…?”

Shit. I quickly retract my hand in a panic. My face heats up more. “Um… um you know how miserable I was b-before? Yea, yea, I was… laying here, sobbing like a baby f-from how much I was missing… you…” Gladion stares at me in confusion, retorting, “but… you were sitting right here, and… wouldn’t your head have been on the pillow…?” More panic. My eyes constantly dart between his face and my knees as I ball my hands upon my legs. I can’t think of any other explanation…

“You… you know as teenagers, w-we start feeling particular emotions w-we didn’t feel as kids? Y-you know, puberty and hormones and s-s-stuff…” I stutter uncontrollably. It clicks in his mind almost immediately, evident as his eyes widen and the red in his face deepens. We both look away, equally as embarrassed. God just kill me already. I avoid eye contact with him as we sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, I stand up and start making my way to the door. “It was really stupid of me to have come here in the first place I’m so sor—“

Gladion grabs my wrist. I look back, slightly teared up with shame. He has a serious look in his eyes, staring deeply into mine but still blushing furiously. “Are… those feelings still there…?” His rasp voice huffs. My face couldn’t be any hotter. He couldn’t look any hotter. Fuck. I only slightly nod in response. His voice hitches, “d-do… do you want… me… to relieve those feelings for you…?” My face gets hotter. We stand there for another moment in silence. I nibble my lower lip and nod again.

He pulls me slowly onto his lap as we both sit on the bed again. His hot breath tickles my skin as I look down into his emerald orbs. “You… aren’t the only one who’s been feeling these sorts of feelings, you know…” He caresses my face with one hand and grabs my ass with the other, “I also touch myself when I can’t get you out of my head.” My mouth slightly waters and my heart starts to race tenfold. “And now that we’re together for the first time in ages, I feel like this is the only chance I can have you all to myself.” The fiery sensation overwhelms my whole body again, and I purr, “I’m all yours, President.”

Our mouths latch upon each other, where neither of us hold back any of the hunger that’s been stirring up from the past few months. Our tongues claim every inch of each other’s caverns while our hands slither tenderly yet clamber desperately along each other’s forms. My straddling core shifts rhythmically upon his hardening member, making him grunt and making me moan, soon pulling away to gasp for air. Our hot breaths mix as a thin string of saliva drips on his chin. One of my hands is tangled in his bangs, while the other is raked in his scalp. Our chests heave heavily, foreheads touching. My vision is hazy but I’m still entranced with his orbs.

I sit up to lay on the bed upon my back, dragging him down with me. My hands fall back on both sides of my head, and my legs lay flat with my knees tight together. His aroused expression becomes more nervous and embarrassed, but still huffing with hunger. He hastily slips his shoes off, then pins his hands by my head, legs apart while kneeling with my legs between them. A different kind of tension overcomes the room.

“Um… this… is my first time,” Gladion mumbles, eyes slightly shaky. I bite my lower lip, stammering, “m-me too. I t-trust you with all my heart though. Just… be gentle…” His throat swallows with a big gulp. Slouched over me, he slowly tugs the straps of my top down over my shoulders, revealing my bra. I almost bring my hands inward to cover myself, suddenly feeling ten times more self-conscious. He slightly retracts his hands, also self-conscious about what he’s doing. Fuck my heart is beating like crazy! I take in a deep breath before I awkwardly reach behind me with both of my hands to unlatch my bra strap. His hands lower again to slowly shift the bra up to reveal my bare breasts. I swear, our faces couldn’t be any redder at this point. His hands cramp up, and we freeze for another moment. My breath hitches to break the silence, murmuring, “y-you can do a-a-anything to them…”

Gladion takes in another big gulp, and leans down slowly. His clammy hand hovers over one breast for a moment, then grabs it as gently as possible. A small squeal escapes my lips, making us both jolt in place. I suddenly stutter, “It’s ok! They’re really sensitive, b-but you can keep going.” He briefly sucks in his lips and nods, before proceeding to massage it. Oh my god this feels completely different from when I touch myself holy shit! I attempt to muffle my audible delight as he plays with it more, fascinated by its soft touch. He soon grazes a thumb over my stiff peak, making me release another squeal. With curiosity in his gaze, he starts fondling it, and his other hand grabs my other breast with more enthusiasm. My hips squirm more, as I fail to repress a gasp. My skin is tingling from his hot breath, burning as his eyes examine my hard buds as his fingers fondle them more roughly.

He finally takes it into his mouth, sending a whole new, electrifying sensation throughout my body. FUCK! He sucks it rhythmically, picking up the pacing with his other hand. My whole body is a squirming mess, and I stop trying to hold my moans in. My hand holds the back of his head as he licks my bud frantically. “Yes, yes! That’s it! G-Gladion!!” I gasp with delight. He quickly switches to my other breast to eat it up like there’s no tomorrow, other hand crazily playing with the freshly sucked breast. I’m practically hyperventilating, as my grip tightens in his scalp. In between licks and sucks, he sloppily growls, “I fucking love how you say my name!”

Without a warning, my lower back arches violently as my essence leaks from my shorts. Gladion pulls away, as I quiver and pant uncontrollably, my vision hazy again. “I… I… I j-just came,” I whimper, “b-but… I want you… inside of me.” He’s speechless, now less red with a new sense of confidence written in his face, but still nervous as hell. I push myself up to remove my top and bra, as he sits there, still in a daze. “But first,” I mutter, tugging his shirt as I eat him with my eyes, “I also want to see you… undressed…”

Gladion’s face suddenly drains, looking down to the floor for a moment. “Uh… okay… j-just for you… but just so you know,” he looks back at me hesitantly, “my body isn’t a-anything impres—“ “I don’t care about how you look!” I retort, grabbing his shoulders with reassurance. “I love you, no matter how vulnerable you may feel. No one is perfect. As I said, I trust you with all my heart. I… just hope you return those feelings…” He cups my face to kiss my forehead, then mutters, “O-of course I do… I’m… just nervous…”

Trying not to hesitate, he slowly pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor, revealing his lean form. I stare in awe. I know that he’s a bit self-conscious about how pale he is… but he’s brave for doing this… He looks into my eyes again, mumbling, “now that I’ve seen your breasts, you… probably want to see my… dick… right?” I nod almost way too enthusiastically, feeling my face flush and my heart racing again. “J-just to see and… maybe t-touch… I can s-s-suck it another time…” I stammer, hands tightening into fists on my knees.

His eyes widen, and an unexpectedly huge smile spreads upon his face as he suddenly pulls me into a tight hug. “Fuck! Stop being so cute my heart can’t take it!” My whole body goes limp as I watch him swing his legs off the bed to unfasten his pants. Pulling them off, only in his underwear now, it was now visibly obvious how hard he is. I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fuck” is all I mutter. I’m already hard again. With hunger in his eyes, he remarks, “make it quick so I can get inside of you.” Before I can even process how hot he sounded, he finally pulls off his underwear, his member springing out with a slight bounce, with a few droplets of pre-cum dripping from its head.

Now I’m the once who’s fascinated. Although I can’t see Gladion’s face as I take a closer look at it, I can sense him burning up from this sudden exposure. He reaches over to the dresser next to the bed as I stroke it, making him shudder. I snap out of my entrancement when I hear him tearing a packet open. The serious fire from earlier is in his eyes again as he stammers, “y-you can’t play with it today, but you can put this on f-for me.” I can only gawk as he hands the condom to me and stands his boner upwards. Not at what he’s holding, but just over the situation we’re about to get into…

I take a deep gulp as I place the condom on top and roll it on. I lay on the bed again, nodding to invite him to remove my shorts for me, which he does with ease. He desperately removes my soaked underwear and spreads my legs open, briefly examining my lips as I part them with my fingers. I gasp, unable to hold back my excitement. No more foreplay — I want to feel you inside me right now. He positions his member and slowly sinks it into my entrance. We both moan loudly, then he mutters, “fuck it’s so tight and hot! I’m already so close!” I pant heavily, “me too…” I intertwine my fingers with his on both sides of my head, “you… can start slow… then pick up the pace when you can’t hold it in anymore.”

Gladion nods and starts to thrust very slowly. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open while the fire in my core consumes me, but now I can truly see how his eyelashes flicker shut, his lips parted while huskily breathing, sweating but flushing with passion — my fantasies of him pale in comparison to his actual aroused expression. As he huffs heavily, I moan melodically, “holy shit you feel so good!” The pace of his thrusting gradually picks up, increasing the volume of my moans, and our clammy hands grip even tighter. “I love you so fucking much, [y/n]!” He growls into my ear, sending sensations from my face to my bucking groin. “Keep saying my name, I fucking love it!!” I gasp monstrously, wrapping my legs around his hips as the other end of his cock frantically rams into my ass. The euphoric ecstasy reaches its highest peak as he slams into me for the last time, making us scream each other’s names almost simultaneously. I feel it spasm inside me as he almost collapses upon me. We gasp loudly for air, my eyes scrunched with only stars in my vision. Holy… shit…

After Gladion collects his breath, he slowly pulls out and turns us both over to lay on our sides. The bed is soaked in sweat, and our lower areas are drenched with my essence, but neither of us care. He stares at me dreamily and whispers with a smirk, “well… did I relieve your feelings…?” I sloppily link my arm with his and giggle, “no shit you did hehe… you being here was enough but you really brought it all… must be a new tactic you came up with.” He chuckles and brushes stray hairs from my sweaty face, seemingly satisfied with his work.

Other than the sexual tension we had, it seems like neither of us can take the actual heat anymore as we roll on our backs away from each other, laughing. We lay in silence for yet another moment, when I’m struck with another dumb idea. “What if… we stayed here for the night…?” I suggest, turning my head to look back at Gladion. He pouts as he thinks about it, then turns his head to me and says, “fuck it why not? Who’s gonna stop the most powerful people of Alola?” We laugh again.

Eventually, we both get up clumsily to clean ourselves off in the bathroom. We then decided to hang out until evening, and have our first sleep together without a care in the world. We can deal with the mess we made in the morning anyway…

As the bottom right text says, Forgive my horny ass idk whether to be proud (of these drawings) or ashamed (fucking a fictional character)

#gladion #pokemon sun and moon #gladion x reader #gladion headcanons #smut #my text #buronzuwyngzu doots

[dimension-20-every-introduction]

Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20′s Shriek Week episode 3

#dimension 20 spoilers #shriek week #dimension 20 #shriek week spoilers #LXBNCKLXCNB SEVEN'S PARENTS I DIDN'T THINK THEY'D GO THROUGH WITH IT- #incredible. incredible #god they go all in with it too #'velvet cheek' i SEE you #also terry's parents both just being full wolves is REALLY funny to me #also HUGE shoutouts to they/them pronouns being thrown around everywhere to everyone By everyone. big fan of this thank u gab hicks #this season.... BRIMMING with gender. overFLOWING with it #finale next week too! can't wait until then #i'm a Little sad no one tried to date fen or mothman or nayelth because those were my favorites #but then again that just gives ME room to insert myself self indulgently and date them myself #so who's the REAL winner here? #d20 introductions

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (7)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Phone sex, daddy kink, masturbation

A/N: Let me know what y’all thank! :) ILY

Previous Chapter // Masterlist

You were on a date.

And Pierre was all the way across the country, in a hotel bed, next to Josh Anderson.

He wouldn’t have even known you were getting wined and dined by his next door neighbor if Josh hadn’t opened your Snapchat while he was sitting right beside him. Charlie was sitting across the table from you, smiling like a nerd over his filet mignon. 

The scoff that came out of Pierre’s mouth as a reaction piqued Josh’s attention.

“Oh, we’re fighting again?”

“We never stopped,” he grumbled, standing from the bed.

“No? You’ve been sort of civil lately.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around her, so I haven’t had to deal with her attitude.”

“Smile.” Pierre turned on a dime and flipped off Josh’s camera as soon as the flash lit up the room. Josh smiled down at the photo and murmured, “YN will love that picture.”

---

It was Josh’s damn Snapchat that did you in.

It was Pierre’s long middle finger and his unamused expression, the sweats that hung low on his hips that did nothing to hide the bulge hidden beneath the waistband. You were glad that you opened it after Charlie ran to the bathroom because you were 100% sure that you were blushing.

It’d only been a week since you last saw Pierre, but the time apart had you feeling needy. You’d never admit it out loud, but you needed him. 

You needed Pierre. 

“I was thinking,” Charlie spoke as he arrived back at the table. You stood, gathering your phone and your purse as his hand slid along your lower back. “Let’s grab a bottle of wine from the liquor store down the block and then finish it off at my place.”

“Um,” you hesitated, lifting your phone to check the time. It wasn’t even late, but you didn’t want to go home with him. “Charlie, I think I should get home.

“We can totally go back to your place.”

“No! I mean, I need to be alone,” you corrected. He looked at you, dumbfounded. “I’m just feeling super bloated and exhausted.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, come on, you know that,” you urged, fake smile on your lips as you slid your hand in his to lead him out to the car. “Dinner was amazing and this restaurant is beautiful. I wish I was feeling better, I really do. I’ll make it up to you.”

---

Pierre knew he was in trouble when your name flashed across his phone screen just before he went to bed. He sat up against the headboard and picked up immediately, desperate to know how your date went.

“Hi, Luc,” you spoke as soon as he accepted the call. He felt a chill run down his spine at the sound of your voice, at the name falling from your lips. “I miss you,” you whispered like it was a secret. He smiled at your words, feeling his heart skip a beat, and then you moaned, “My pussy misses you.” 

And just like that, all his qualms about you being out with Charlie disappeared, if only temporarily.

He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his head back against the headboard, a groan ripping through his chest as he spoke, “YN, don’t do this to me right now.”

“Why not, baby?”

“You’re not being fair.”

“Would you rather I touch myself without you on the phone?”

“Fuck no!” he exclaimed. “No, no, that would--fuck--that would be torture.” 

“Then, talk to me.”

He loved the sound of your voice, low and sultry. You could read him the phone book and he’d probably still get off. 

“Are you touching yourself?” he asked, voice deepening to meet your level. You hummed affirmatively, a bit whiny as your fingers slid along your folds. “Good girl.” His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats. “What are you wearing, angel?”

“Do you want to see?”

“Of course I do.”

You smiled happily to yourself, pulling your fingers from your folds to kneel on the bed and take a photo in the mirror you’d set up in front. The first was posed with your knees apart on the bed, hand on your breast, and the next, you slipped those fingers into your lace panties and inserted them into your cunt. Pierre could hear you moan and sat up impatiently.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Patience.”

You scrambled back up to the pillows and sent him the photos, listening in for the reaction you desperately needed. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. I wish I could fuck you right now,” he spoke. You whimpered, fingers massaging your folds. “That mirror doesn’t belong there,” he pointed out. “You moved it?”

“Yes, daddy,” you responded, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. Pierre cursed beneath his breath at the name, fingers curling around the base of his cock. “Wanted to watch when I fuck myself to your voice.”

“Fuuuuck,” he sighed. “I want you naked.”

You slipped your thong down your legs and unclasped your bra to toss it on the floor. He rid himself of his sweats as well

“And then what?”

“Spread your legs for me.”

“Are you touching yourself, too?” you asked, voice soft and sweet in contrast to the filth that was coming from both your mouths. Pierre chuckled.

“‘Course I am,” he spoke. “I’ve been touching myself since you sent me those photos.”

“You’re cheating!”

“Am not,” he responded with another laugh. “I’m waiting for you, just a little impatiently.” And then he heard a loud moan fall from your lips. “What are you doing, baby? Talk to me.”

“I’m catching up to you,” you answered breathlessly. You had a finger in your cunt, curling to hit your g-spot slowly. Each time, another whimper graced his ears. “Do you know why I really put this mirror here?”

“Hmm?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about the night you fucked me in the bar bathroom,” you moaned, adding a second finger to your pussy. His breath faltered on the other end of the call. “I think about the way you watched me come undone in the mirror, the look in your eyes, every time I touch myself.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you cum,” he whispered. “It’s like a dream. I love the way your pussy throbs around me, the way you sigh my name and close your eyes and arch your back.” He paused. “Circle your clit with your thumb, baby, the way I do.”

As soon as you added the pressure to your clit, you sucked in a breath, legs bending at the knee to grant you better access and a clearer view of what you were doing.

“I wish you were watching me right now, knowing you can’t touch me.”

“C’mon, YN, you know that you can’t stop me from touching you.”

“But I sort of am right now,” you reminded him. A loud moan ripped through your chest, somewhat performative to get a rise out of him. “Maybe I don’t need you after all.”

“You need me enough to call me after going out to dinner with Charlie,” he grunted. “Isn’t that right? You couldn’t go home with him because you were too busy thinking about me? Thinking about the way I make you feel?” 

Without even really working for it, you got the energy you wanted out of him. Pierre’s jealousy always did it for you and you could feel the subtle shake of your legs as he asked you, “Did you buy that set for him? You wanted him to take that off tonight?”

“No, I only want you to touch me. Only want you to undress me. Only want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, head thrown back against his headboard. His hand was moving quicker now and he was finding it hard to speak through the moans that threatened to fill the air. “Tell me what you want me to do to you when I get home, angel. Whatever you want.”

“I want you to fuck me against every surface in our apartments,” you told him, picking up the pace of your fingers to match the sound of his hand on his member. “I want you to fuck me against the walls and the windows, and I want you to fuck me in the bathroom mirror like the slut I am for you, like the night at the bar.”

“You gonna scream my name? Make sure Charlie knows who fucks you this good?”

“Yes, Pierre, yes, yes,” you moaned, fingers hitting the right spot as he speaks to you. Every circle of your clit had you convulsing. “I-I’m so close.”

“Hold on a few more seconds,” he requested. “You’re gonna cum with me, okay, baby?”

You released a string of moans and whimpers in place of words as you continued coaxing your orgasm, and you listened to Pierre’s praises and quickened breath as he got close to his own high. 

“Give it to me, daddy, please, fuck!”

Your back arched off the bed, fingers working furiously on your cunt as he breathed in your ear, whispering praises, “So good for me. You wanna cum?” You whimpered, nodding as if he could see it. “Go ahead, baby, cum.”

You finally found your release, shouting his name into the speaker as your legs shook and your body squirmed. Your pussy fluttered as you fucked yourself through the orgasm, catching sight of yourself in the mirror to see what Pierre said he loved to see and you listened to him come undone, the sweet sound of your name on his tongue.

---

The morning after dinner with Charlie and phone sex with Pierre, you felt hungover. You weren’t even drunk the night before, but you still woke up in discomfort with a mix of guilt and anxiety and a dash of regret. So, after pulling yourself from bed, you opened the blinds in hopes that the vitamin D would do you some good.

Saturdays, in your opinion, always felt like your most productive day of the week. And, since last Saturday was commandeered by your parents and Pierre, you were dedicating this one completely to yourself. Your breakfast was slamming, your speakers were playing some feel good tunes, and you were going to spend the day tidying up and spend the night watching Netflix.

But all your self-indulgent plans came to a screeching halt when your phone started ringing and Sadie’s name flashed across the screen.

You didn’t speak to Sadie after Pierre spent your birthday with your parents because you knew she’d blow it out of proportion. She managed to do so through text, typing in all caps to let you know that mom told her Pierre was shirtless in your kitchen.

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get you on the phone,” she barked as you as soon as you accepted the call. Her voice rang through the speaker, shattering the comfortable silence you’d once had. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, you are,” she argued. “And I know why.”

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“You’re in love with him.”

You dropped a plate in the sink, suds splashing up into your face as you scrambled to turn the faucet off and dry your hands. You were going to get into it with her.

“I’m not in love with you him! Where would you even get that idea? He was shirtless in my kitchen because we slept together the night before and I was in the process of kicking him out.”

“Mom swore there was no way you were just sleeping together,” she grunted. “What does that make him? Your enemy with benefits?”

“That makes him a booty call.”

“He spent the day with mom and dad,” she pointed out. “That’s more than just a booty call.”

“He did it to taunt me. Have you forgotten the whole basis of our drama?”

“And did it work?” she asked. “Did he taunt you? Or did you enjoy his presence?”

“Sadie, it’s just sex,” you sighed, exhausted by her line of questioning. “We hardly even know each other. We’ve never even had a real conversation without hurling insults at each other and we’ve never voluntarily seen each other without the promise of sex.” You paused. “Besides, I went out to dinner with Charlie last night.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re still entertaining him?” she asked. You hummed affirmatively, preparing for her onslaught of words about how mismatched the two of you really are. “I don’t get it. Can you explain it to me like I’m five?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Sadie,” you sighed. “I know he might be a little boring sometimes, but he’s a nice guy with a stable job and a stable life. And he always goes the extra mile when he’s trying to impress me. Last night, he took me out to this expensive restaurant I’ve been dying to go to.”

“And you had fun on your little date?” she asked, condescending tone to her voice. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, it was good.”

“Did he make you laugh?”

“Yes.”

“He paid?”

“Of course.”

“And you went home with him after?” she finally asked. You didn’t want to tell her that you left him to call Pierre. That would be the final nail in your coffin. So, your answer was a long pause. “You had this man take you to dinner and you didn’t even put out after?” She scoffed. “And you say you like him!”

“I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Why?” she pried. “Because he isn’t Pierre Luc Dubois?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Would you stop saying his name like that?”

“I think you’re in denial,” Sadie declared. “And I know that you’re going to be like ‘what does my little sister even know about love?’ To that I answer, almost nothing. But, I do know quite a lot about you. You don’t want boring, YN. You haven’t been boring a day in your life, so why would you settle for someone who doesn’t drive you absolutely crazy, you know?”

“The type of crazy Pierre makes me isn’t a cute crazy. It’s a should-be-admitted type of crazy.”

“More like a ‘I’ll kiss you to shut you up’ kind of crazy.”

You couldn’t argue that.

“Whatever, Sadie, I don’t know what else to say,” you goaned. “Can we change the subject now?”

She agreed to let it go, though you knew it wouldn’t be long until she was bugging you about him again, and conversation to whatever was going on in Sadie’s life. But, as much as you’d wanted to change the subject, suddenly not even a different conversation could get your mind off Pierre.

---

When Pierre got back to Ohio, he was itching to get to your apartment and make all the things you said over the phone come true, but you weren’t even answering his texts. It’s not like you texted all that much to begin with, but when you didn’t ask him to come over after his flight landed, he knew something was up. Now, he had four unanswered texts in your messages from the past two days and he was yearning for your attention. 

Needless to say, he was off, and the entire team could tell.

Especially Josh. He noticed almost as soon as he saw Pierre, but he waited until practice was over to begin prying.

“Where’s your head at?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“You look like your head is somewhere else.”

“It is.”

His answer was simple as he left for the showers, and Josh wasn’t straggling far behind, determined to get the answers he was searching for. After showering, they headed out to their cars and said goodbye, but Josh watched Pierre pull out of the lot and turn in the opposite direction of his apartment. So, he made the decision to tail him.

Imagine his surprise when Pierre traveled deeper into the city towards your apartment. He followed him the whole way, stopping at the corner of your block to avoid being seen while Pierre parked. And then, with his jaw practically on the floor, Josh watched him jog right into your building.

 ---

“What’s your problem?” Pierre barked the second you opened the door. His tone of voice was harsh, not soft like it’d been in recent weeks, and it immediately threw you off. “Are you on your period or something? Because it’s alright if you are. I’d be down for period sex.”

You slammed the door in his face.

He was joking. Well, he was trying to joke, like an idiot, and obviously not succeeding. So, he took a step back to gather his thoughts and tried again.

“That was an awful joke. Let me start over,” he spoke as soon as you opened the door again. You cocked your hip against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re not talking to me?”

“No, other than your usual annoying shit, you’ve been fine.”

“So, what’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You rolled your neck with a groan and answered, “It’s just been a crazy week, Pierre,” you paused, glaring at him. “And, yes, I’m also on my period, not that it concerns you.”

“I hate when you call me Pierre,” he grunted and although you rolled your eyes, those words stirred something inside of you. “Can I come in?”

To his surprise, you stepped aside without contest and continued into the apartment leaving him to kick his shoes off and drop his jacket on the hook at the door. He found you curled up beneath a chunky blanket with the remainders of some fast food meal on the coffee table. He dropped onto the other end, kicked his socked feet up on the table, and smiled at you.

“Seriously, why are you here?” you asked. “I’m not having period sex with you.”

“I said that was a joke.”

“Okay, then why are you here if not for sex?” you asked, face twisted in frustration. 

His face mirrored yours as he responded, “Is it such a crime to just want to see you?”

“Yes,” you answered simply.

“Does it have to be?”

Although the question was loud enough for you to hear, it was soft enough to ignore if you felt it necessary. So, you ignored it, because you didn’t do this. You didn’t just hang out to see each other. He huffed as you began sifting through the collection of romantic comedies on Netflix. 

“I’m watching a movie, so either you stay and watch, or you leave.”

Pierre grabbed a pillow and dropped it onto the middle cushion of the couch before laying back, his feet elevated over the arm at the end of the couch. You followed his direction, dropping a pillow in front of his and throwing your feet over the other arm so that you’d be lying head-to-head. Before laying down, you gave him a blanket and wrapped another around your own body.

The movie began and the opening credits rolled, but you couldn’t focus.

How could you when Pierre was in your apartment and not tearing your clothes off? How could you focus when you’d so easily enabled the domestic scene laid out in front of you?

His hand hung limply off the edge of the couch and just looking at it made you feel all types of things. You could practically feel his skin on your skin and your mind began to wander, daydreaming about what it might be like to lace your fingers with his. And, before you could stop yourself, you were placing your palm against his palm to do just that.

#dwoht fic #pierre luc dubois imagine #pierre luc dubois fic #hockey rpf #pld fic #pld imagine #mk writes #pierre luc dubois x reader

[courtlyharlequin]

Amaranthine

Warning(s): female reader, mentions of anxiety, slow burn (I think), 17K word count, self-indulgence, Vivi’s Vil brain rot with no plot,  not proofread

Summary: There was this monster inside your head. It went by the name of Anxiety. To you, it was, and always be, more so of a parasite you couldn’t live with, but you also couldn’t live without. It looked after you in the strangest of times. For the most part, it was a hindrance, cluttering your mind with dark and bitter thoughts, assuming the worst in people you’ve never met before, jumping to conclusions, and crying over the smallest things. It made you extremely aware of yourself and others, for better or for worse. That was Anxiety, the monster in your head. The exact moment in time when it nestled instead into your mind is unknown to this day, festering in the back of your mind. Then there was Vil Schoenheit, your lover, your soulmate, and most importantly, your pillar of support who cheered you on in his own way. He taught you how to tame Anxiety. But alas, a monster will always be a monster.

A/N: It’s my birthdayyyyyy~ so I made a very, very, very self-indulgent fic for myself. While I did write it as a reader insert, it pertains to my mental health, particularly my anxiety, and there may be aspects of it that you may not understand. That is okay. I wanted some feels with Vil on my birthday because I have a case of Malleus syndrome;;;

A/N²: To clear things up, the reader in this fic is female. She is not Yuu (I usually write the reader as Yuu and yes, I’m aware they can be two separate entities). She likes to scrapbook, bake, and wear lolita clothing. She also attends NRC though her dorm is left pretty open-ended. However, it might not make sense if you’re in Pomefiore. This might not work if your birthday is in March either. I’m sorry asdfghjkl;

Disclaimer: Please note that this is not a fanfic that romanticizes mental illnesses. A significant other cannot solve everything. They shouldn’t solve everything. They aren’t meant to fix you; they’re there to bring out the best in you and be by your side when you need them to be. By no means, is it their job to help your completely overcome your mental illnesses. It’s a common trope in fanfiction and gives off mixed signals to me. This self-indulgent fanfic of mine is not meant to give anyone false hope. It is simply a love story that I always wanted to experience. Think of it as my own anxiety story. The only thing real about this is some events like the presentation meltdown though my partner eventually turned into my middle school bully so I just replaced him with Vil because Vil>>>>>>

[ Present Day, Vil’s Bedroom ]

Fwip!

You flinched. You looked up. Vil had flicked your forehead. His eyes were filled with worry, brows creased and his lips strung in a frown.

“Fairest, is something on your mind?” he asked.

“No. Not at all.”

“Hold still for a minute. This lip tint is watery,” he said in a stern tone, tilting your chin upwards

He lined your lips in red and handed you a small mirror.

“Beautiful, my love.”

You stared at your expression. Vil was right. You were beautiful, all dolled up in this getup. You were prettier than usual, that’s for sure. However, the look isn’t for you or your hollow eyes. He snapped his fingers.

“Fairest,” he paused, sitting down on his bed, patting the space next to him, “Come here.”

You obliged.

“Now, talk to me. Don’t deny it. Something is on your mind. You’ve been zoning out all day. If you need a break just say so.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I was just thinking…”

“Thinking?”

“Yes. About the past and whatnot. Trivial things! No matter,” you dismissed, leaning onto his shoulder.

Vil crossed his legs, “How could I help you if you give me such a vague answer?”

Had he truly forgotten your special day, the only day you were willing to break out of your shell and be showered in compliments and praise without feeling like an alien? While you didn’t have a cake to share and you were certain that he wouldn’t want to eat it either, you expected he would remember the date as your lover of seven months now. So far, he only asked you to drop by his room for makeup practice as he just landed a part-time job as a makeup artist. Not that you minded of course. He made you feel beautiful, one of the many reasons you loved him.

“I don’t think it’s something you can help me with. I was thinking about middle school and—”

“Don’t waste your time with those fools.”

“I told you it was trivial.”

You nuzzled against his shoulders.

“It’s been hard lately, you know? I’ve been overthinking again. About silly things. Group projects, you know? Presentations too. Ah, there was this one person who told me to shut up because of a misunderstanding and everyone laughed and I felt— But you mustn’t hurt them!”

You clutched his arm. His posture had stiffened. He gave you a blank expression though his eyes told the whole story.

“I felt a little out of place. Things were going fine until they showed up. It’s not their fault, don’t worry. I was excited to talk to them, but it ended up going downhill. I felt like I was overstepping my boundaries. It was embarrassing,” you continued.

“I know you don’t like it when I say this but it’s not as bad as you think it is. Know that you made progress compared to your pot– first year self,” Vil said, squeeze your hand, “If you want help with your presentations, then I’m here for you— as always.”

Straightforward as always. He never tolerated things he deems piffling, but you were glad he didn’t pity you, not one bit.

“I’m sorry for bothering—”

He placed the tip of his index finger on your nose.

“What do we say instead of apologizing for something we cannot control?”

“T-Thank you.”

“Go on now.”

“...for listening to me.”

“My pleasure, Fairest.”

His finger shifted as he cupped your cheek with one hand, leaning in to kiss your forehead. He must’ve forgotten your birthday, but you mustn’t going to ruin the mood. You watched his back as he gathered his makeup brushes. Vil was a busy man though that was something you were used to as his lover.

[ Two Years Prior, Alchemy Classroom ]

“Are you just going to sit there while everyone picks their partners, little potato?”

You flinched at the sudden comment. Potato? You had a name. Did you do something to be labeled in such a way? Moreover, what was the Vil Schoenheit doing standing in front of your desk? You prayed for the conversation to be brief. Part of you also prayed for him to ask to be partners.

“What are you staring at? Answer.”

You shook your head. This was bad. You were staring at him for too long. While you were dying from embarrassment, you let your gaze linger for a little longer. He was gorgeous. You loved how his blonde hair transitioned into a pale lavender, complimenting his violet eyes, eye makeup, and fair complexion.

Vil snapped his fingers before your field of vision.

“I know you aren’t mute. Answer.”

“Probably…” you said.

“Hah? That won’t do, potato. I’ll be your partner then.”

“Pardon?”

“I said, ‘I’ll be your partner’. Now, move over.  We’re in direct sunlight here and it won’t do any good for our skin if we sit there everyday for so long even if we are indoors.”

You nodded, sliding one seat over. He sat down next to you, arms and legs crossed. He seems mad, concerned with something, something else. His body language didn't match his facial expressions though he wasn’t hard to read. 

“Why me?”

You bit your lip, cringing at your own inquiry.

“You seem responsible enough to be my partner for this project,” he said, propping his head on his elbow, turning to face the blackboard.

What did he mean by that? Sure, you were responsible, but were you worth noting of? You were decent, not the best but not the worse either. Failing a class meant coming the topic of conversation when a teacher asks you to stay after class for a brief checkup or tutoring sessions. Excelling in a class meant being called out on your exemplary work by teachers. Anxiety was not equipped for either circumstances therefore it tried to help you maintain your grades discreetly. But Vil noticed, indicating that you were overachieving. Perhaps you should purposefully miss a few questions on the next quiz. You got a perfect score last time. It wouldn’t hurt. However, you were partnered with Vil, someone who strived for perfection, someone who stood out against a crowd. The phrase goes “...like a sore thumb”, but Vil stood out like a well polished and manicured appendage. He was beautiful, so beautiful that one had to stop for a moment to admire his beauty.

That was Vil, your partner. You could feel heavy stares in your direction. They were directed at Vil, but you couldn’t help feeling nervous. You fiddled with the ends of your hair, fixating your eyes onto your textbook.

You flinched when Vil pushed your back lightly. You shot him a widened stare, opening your mouth to ask him why he touched you. He placed a finger on your lips.

“Bad posture isn’t good for you. Straighten up and pay attention.”

Heat rose to your face as you adjusted your posture. 

[ Library ]

“Mind telling me what this is, potato?” Vil said, throwing a stack of papers onto the table.

Your shoulders tensed. You set your textbook down, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s our project.”

“No. It’s your project.”

“I wrote your name on it too so don’t worry about it. I don’t mind sharing the credit.”

“It’s not about the credit. It’s about the integrity. I dropped by Crewel’s office hours today with a question about this project and he told me that we had already turned it in. Fortunately for you, I’m good at improvising so we’re off the hook. I got our project back so we can work on it together.  Scoot over so we can get started. I’m assuming you also did the slideshow, but I–”

As usual, you complied to his demands, allowing him to sit next to you. He was a bit too close for comfort. Your peers could manage with this proximity so you probably could too if you took deep breaths every now and then. 

“We only have a day left, you know.”

“I know.”

“So why bother?”

Vil clicked his tongue, throwing his French braid over his shoulder as he slid the stool closer to the desk, “I bother because we’re a team.”

He paused, pondering, “I don’t like things being handed to me either.”

“That’s gold especially since this is coming from someone who’s always too busy to even reply to my texts,” you replied.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you bit your tongue. Was that too much? Should you have just listened to him? Kept quite? How will he react? Will he shame you on social media? Spread rumors? Tell Crewel?

“Listen here, potato. I work various part-time jobs and I run a club. I apologize for my poor time management, but I am here now. You, on the other hand, have only sent me one text pertaining to scheduling and this assignment during the three weeks we had to do it. We are both at fault, got that?”

“Yes,” you murmured, pulling out your laptop.

“Wonderful. You won’t have to rewrite everything. Just subtracting here and adding some words there for smoother transitions. It’ll sound better.”

You bit your lip. You were hoping that because you made the entire presentation, Vil would take up the speaking part out of guilt. Unfortunately for you, he was too self-righteous to give in. He can’t be persuaded either. His eyes were glued onto his own laptop, typing the evening away.

You’ll have to make due.

[ Presentation Day, Alchemy Classroom ]

From the brief time you’ve interacted with him, you knew that Vil was meant to be in the spotlight. He shined brightly, you could feel his charisma even from the back from the classroom. His performance was worthy of a standing ovation. You could never compete with him, let alone get through a single presentation. You had made it through all of your slides, but every time Vil spoke, you felt out of place. Your hands were shaking and you were on the brink of tears. Your peers must think you were incompetent. Their intense stares were unbearable. Did they pity you? Or Vil?

“It’s your turn,” Vil whispered.

You refused. His hand twitched as he grabbed your shoulders. This exchange was awkward enough yet your silent plea for help didn’t reach him.

“Go, potato.”

“No.”

He enunciated his words, “It’s. Your. Turn”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand,” you cried.

Vil’s expression softened. He reached for you and you braced yourself yet it never came. He huffed and proceeded with the rest of the slides.

Ah… crying in the first semester as a first year in high school? Because of a presentation overwhelming you? Wonderful. You’ll never be able to live that down. Should you transfer to RSA then? No, that won’t do. They had mandatory choir classes or so you heard. Maybe an ordinary high school from your hometown then? But what if the headmaster disapproved?

You meekly walked up to Crewel, “I’m going to the infirmary.”

Your instructor only nodded with reluctance. Dissatisfaction was written across his face, but turning down a frantic student in tears for an unknown reason would be frowned upon. You heard him mutter something about the puppies this year being too sheltered. You gave Vil a second glance before heading out. He brushed you off and continued with the deliverable. 

You were hopeless.

[ Infirmary ]

You pulled the covers closer to your face, hiding behind your hair. He was there. Why?

“(y/n),” he said.

You inched away from him. He finally called you by your name. Not by “potato”. Why were you a potato in the first place? Was it because you were beneath dirt? Were you that ugly to be beneath him?

“Are you just going to stay here forever? Curfew is soon. You should hurry and get to the mirror chamber.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, potato.”

 You were beneath him. The tears won’t stop falling. You were trembling.

“What did I do this time?” he sighed.

His voice was firm. He must’ve been irritated by today’s stunt.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just leave me alone... please.”

The blanket shrouded your eyes. How pathetic. How could you let him of all people see you in such a miserable state? You’ve only seen his social media profile once or twice. Was he the type to post and gossip about others?

The mattress sank as Vil sat down. You hugged your sides.

“Fine then. Be a stubborn potato.”

“... You honestly did nothing wrong. I’m the problem. I can’t function as a human being. I can’t talk to people. I can’t- Well, I can but it’s...”

“Difficult?”

“Yeah.”

“What is there to be scared of? Follow that trick where you pretend everyone is potato.”

Is that where the potato shtick came from? How reassuring. His tone was unchanging in pitch. Was he trying to comfort or criticize you?

“It's more complicated than just being shy. It’s tiring. I don’t have a clear mind. I worry too much. I spend my days in fear. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

Vil pulled the covers off your small figure. You turned to him in a haze.

“I believe the term is ‘anxiety’, potato,” he said.

“Y-Yeah. Was it obvious? It probably was. Pretty silly now that I think about it, but anyways curfew–”

“Did you think I was stuck in some era where I don’t even acknowledge mental health? And would look down on you because you have anxiety? Please. Give me more credit than that. I’m not close-minded. You’re still a person and you have feelings. So you have anxiety. What of it? Certainly no less of a person.”

Oh how your heart fluttered.

“Get up. You can stay at the Pomefiore dorms tonight. I should get you cleaned up. I can’t stand the sight of those red and puffy eyes…. Cheer up a bit, will you?”

He held out his hand. Was this his way of apologizing? It wasn’t his fault you crumbled in the first place so why? What did he want? Did he want to help you out to boost his reputation?

“Why are you helping me?”

“You clearly need help don’t you?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes or no, potato.”

“I can’t burden you more than I have,” you shook your head.

“I talked it over with Crewel. You’re fine.”

“I suppose I’m not excused either.”

You shrugged off the blankets and took Vil’s hand.

“No, you are. He seemed to be under the impression that you were actually ill,” he said, tapping his finger against his cheek.

“Then–”

“Leave it for now. We can discuss this over tea. After we clean you up though.”

“Do you pity me?”

What if you sounded desperate? What if you sounded needy? Was that needy? Would he change his mind? 

You clamped a hand over your mouth. Vil squinted at you as if he was trying to inspect a stain on a fine textile. He proceeded to grab your cheeks, squeezing them. He exercised his authority.

“I. Do. Not. Remember that. I don’t stoop that low. Good grief.”

“Then... what’s the price?” you cried.

“Excuse me?”

“Your time is valuable, isn’t it? You’re clearly busy. Why are you wasting your precious time on me? Shouldn’t you be compensated for the time I’ve wasted?”

“Yes, my time is valuable, but we can talk about compensation another time.”

He let his hand go, leaving you to gasp in sheer terror. So forceful… he scared you. What did he want from you?

“You coming, (y/n)?”

“Yeah.”

[ Pomefiore Dormitory, Vil’s Bedroom ]

“Hold still. After you cleanse your skin with this superfruit cleanser, you have to apply this fir extract to exfoliate. It’ll sting, and it’s even worse when you get it in your eye, so be careful. Try not to move too much, potato.”

Vil dabbed the cotton ball on your face meticulously. You felt like a celebrity with your own hair and makeup team.

“There. All done,” he beamed.

He spun the chair around so you faced the vanity mirror.

“Beautiful. One hundred points for you.”

You gripped the hem of his shirt. He shouldn’t say things like that and expect you not to combust. What’s more was that this attire was incredibly lewd. What if someone came in and got the wrong idea? What if they spread rumors? You were wearing nothing but his shirt after all. It was long enough to reach your knees, but it was his shirt regardless.

“What do you think, potato?”

“It’s nice, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s not for me?”

“Well, I think it does,” he said.

You patted your cheeks. Soft. Oh dear, you were soft.

“Ah, ah. Don’t touch,” he scolded, prying your hands away.

Goodness you were hopeless.

“Eh? Stop crying. No! Don’t rub your eyes either. Let me get you some tissues.”

Annoyance was etched into his speech, but his actions betrayed his words. He never left your side; he wiped your tears with his own thumbs. You held his wrists tenderly. His touch was like a thousand butterfly kisses.

“I’m sorry. I just… Annoying… Nobody… I’m not.. You…”

He sighed, “Don’t apologize for your feelings. You’re not that annoying as you think. Instead, why don’t you try saying thank you?”

“Thank you?”

“Yes, something like ‘thank you for listening to me’. That shouldn’t be hard for you now, is it?”

“Thank you… for not being annoyed with me.”

Vil palmed his face, “Not that bad. We’ll work on it. Twenty points for you.”

You sniffled and broke out into a small fit of laughter. He smiled too, standing up straight. He towered over you. He was a giant. You watched his back as he approached his bed, fluffing up the pillows.  His heels clicked and clacked against the flooring. He was still in his school uniform. When was he going to sleep? Didn’t he say he wanted you to stay here? People would really get the wrong idea now. You tugged at his sleeves. Vil turned to you, waiting for you to speak.

“I’ll be going now.”

He grabbed your wrist, “Stay.”

You pulled away from him.

“No, not like that. I’m not going to do anything to you, potato. You really have to stop associating me with other potatoes. I meant stay for some tea. Of course, if you really feel uncomfortable then you’re free to go, but at least let me walk you back.”

“I’ll stay,” you said.

“Wonderful. Give me a moment to fix the bedding. The tea should be ready by then.”

When did he prepare the tea? When you were bathing? When you were changing into his pajamas?

“Vil, if I do stay the night, where will I be sleeping?“

“We have one spare room left over since one student never showed up to the ceremony so you can sleep there.”

You sighed, shoulders at ease.

“Did you honestly think I would let you sleep here? No, potato, I need my beauty rest.”

“No, not at all.”

“You are terrible at lying.”

“I’m not dirty minded I promise!”

“Did I say you were?” he smirked.

Vil had a frisky side to him… how unexpected. Nevertheless, you were relieved. You had insomnia already. If you had to sleep next to Vil… you would never see the dawn again.

“Potato, your tea.”

You jumped.

“Careful! It’s hot and these pajamas are made of silk. I dare you to stain them,” Vil scolded.

You nodded. He handed you a tea cup. 

“I was hoping to talk some things over with you, but it’s getting late. You can take this to the spare room down the hall and relax. Self-care time if you will. Here’s a bag for you to put your dirty clothes in. You can drop it off in the morning to the ghosts for laundry. When you get the chance to change, return the top to me. Capeesh?”

“Capeesh...” you mumbled, turning to the door, fumbling with the tea cup.

“(y/n),” he said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t disturb my beauty sleep.”

“Got it.”

“You didn’t let me finish, potato. You can disturb me if you need help with anything else regarding your anxiety. I won’t do things on your behalf, but I’m there to hold your hand. Just not during my beauty sleep, okay?”

“Okay…”

Vil was not lying when he said he wouldn’t treat you any less of a human. Even if there was a monster in your head, Vil treated you like he would anyone.  Perhaps he wasn’t so bad. But how could he say such things with a straight face? It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. 

No, no, (y/n). You mustn’t catch feelings for someone this quickly. If anything, you were in love with the idea of him, his kindness, how he helped you out and cared for you. But was it even kindness?

Even if these feelings weren’t spawned from the idea of loving him, Vil would never return them. He seemed to be the type to be into someone independent. Or at least someone who was not broken. 

Mainly the former, it would seem. He didn’t pack your clothes even though he was the one who demanded that you strip, plunging you into a rose petal and lavender sprig bath. Admittedly, it was relaxing. He said something about lavender having a calming effect earlier. You smelt nice too. 

Maybe for today, you could be comfortable in your own skin. Just this once. You smelt really nice.

[ Four Weeks Later, Alchemy Classroom ]

“Alright, puppies. We have another lab project. The details are in the packet. You are to concoct a potion using the ingredients we learned about this unit. Any potion is fine, but Amortentia is forbidden– as usual. This project will be due in two weeks. You will present your findings to the class in small groups. You can choose your partners. You were good puppies for the last few weeks so I’ll let you choose this time. Do not disappoint me,” Crewel said, cracking his whip.

You watched as the class swarmed into a chaotic mass. Students laughed and embraced one another. You scanned the crowd, looking for someone as unfortunate as you, someone without a partner.

“(y/n). Would you like to be partners?”

Oh. Vil. After all this time, you were baffled by the fact that he continued to interact with you after your meltdown weeks ago. What’s more is that he even followed you back on Magicam. He engaged in conversations with you, asking to check answers with you despite passing tests with flying colors just as you did. You never minded per se. Vil always had something to say. He wasn’t talkative, but he was captivating and civil with a hint of sarcasm. He had a lot to critique. Moreover, you two were from different worlds. Whenever he shared stories about his life, from modeling to troublesome classmates, you felt like a child with a new toy. You were immersed, zoned out of your surroundings, your focus on that one, single thing. In turn, you shared your own anecdotes, anxiety struggles and small victories— to which he celebrated with you through small, almost satirized, cheers and affirmations. 

You were comfortable around him. Anxiety kept you from advancing your acquaintanceship to a friendship, but you were more than happy with sharing homework answers and making small talk. Vil most likely wanted to work with you because, as he said so before, you were reliable. Or was it responsible? Whatever the word was,  you were useful to him. You were noticed in the best way possible. A twisted way to put it, but that’s simply how you felt.

Vil was not what Anxiety said he was and that was more than good enough for you.

“Sure,” you said.

“Wonderful,” he smiled.

You slid over as he took a seat next to you. Away from the sun, just as he liked it. You remembered your first encounter well.

“We’re presenting in small groups this time so you don’t have to worry that much about it,” he paused before continuing, “We can practice. When are you available?”

“Any time, really, I don’t have any clubs.. Or part-time jobs.”

“How does this Friday sound then? I’ll ask my manager to clear my schedule for that day.”

“You don’t have to clear your schedule. I can manage even if you come back late… Just don’t come to me the day before the deadline?”

Were you being too bold with this request?

“Friday then,” Vil said, flipping through the packet, “What type of potion do you want to make?”

“You can choose. I’m not really sure.”

“No, you are sure. You keep staring at that one page. I know you’ve read everything the moment it was handed to you. You certainly weren’t zoning out either.”

If there was anything worth noting about Vil over the short time that you’ve known him, it was that he was observant. Profoundly observant. Perhaps even more than you.

Vil clicked his tongue: “Spit it out, potato. I won’t judge you. I don’t have much of a preference either. We can compromise if we don’t agree.”

“Amortentia,” you winced.

“Now, that we can’t do,” he waved, “Didn’t you hear the professor say?”

“I did, but the structure of this potion is so intricate. I want to try.”

“Aphrodisiacs are prohibited. We can’t do it.”

“I know. I can dream though.”

“Do you have a boy in mind, potato?”

“It’s not like that,” you huffed.

If only he knew. You were head over heels for him– or rather the idea of him, someone who accepted you wholly without ever wanting to tame the monster inside your head. You weren’t sure if you loved Vil for who he was or what he did for you as a classmate. Do mere classmates have afternoon tea in each other’s dorms? Did they engage in small talk frequently?

Vil chuckled, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, potato.”

[ Friday, Library ]

“You’re late, (y/n),” Vil said, leaning against the door frame.

“Sorry.”

“I hope you weren’t planning on skipping out.”

“No, sir.”

“Sir? I’m not that old, you potato.”

You weren’t fond of the session already. While you enjoyed talking to Vil, his strict attitude was oftentimes a trigger for Anxiety. Vil made it rage, rattling against the cage that encasing your heart. It didn’t fancy that. Neither did you.

“Come sit,” he walked over to the desk.

His braid swayed back and forth. You followed him in suit, taking a seat. Vil reached for your shoulders and the small of your back. You yelped.

“Posture is the first step to confidence. If you shrink, you’ll portray your nervousness in the most obvious way possible. Feet flat on the ground and shoulders back.”

You felt exposed, flustered, but not to Vil’s touch. You felt vulnerable to a nonexistent crowd. 

Vil stood up and took a seat before you, staring at you intently.

“Now, deep breath. Scan the crowd and focus on a point behind them, away from their eyes, but still in their direction. Remember to look around occasionally so it’s not obvious that you’re staring at the back of the room. You don’t have to make direct eye contact.”

You nodded sheepishly and obeyed. It wasn’t difficult. You could stare into his eyes forever. You hoped it wouldn’t be too awkward if you kept your gaze fixed on his.

“Shall we begin?”

[  Two Weeks Later, Alchemy Classroom ]

“Hold still, potato,” Vil hissed.

He held your jaw steadily as he applied a glossy red lip tint onto your lips. In a classroom. In public. How many people were staring at you two? What did they think? Did they think you were his plaything?

“I don’t see the point in dressing up.”

“Please. Lip tint and a few touch ups isn’t ‘dressing up’. Plus, you’ll feel more confident if you look confident. Own it, my friend.”

Friend? You were his friend? You could feel your cheeks getting rosy. At the same time, you felt a surge of adrenaline. Was it confidence? You were on cloud nine, feeling unstoppable. If he said so, then Vil would be your first friend at Night Raven College outside of your dorm. 

But… what if he didn’t mean it?

No, no. he meant it. There was no need for Vil to lie. For him, lying was pointless. It was a waste of time; he preferred to get straight to the point even if it might be harsh on someone’s feelings. You’d learn to accept that his words come from honest intentions.

Crewel blew his whistle, signaling start time. Students flocked to their not-so-small groups. Vil had volunteered for the both of you to go first despite your protests, saying that it would be best to go first so you would not overthink and compare your presentation to others. 

“I’m Vil Schoenheiit.”

He squeezed your thigh. The gesture was of chaste intentions, you were sure. Your leg was the only place he could touch in hindsight. Or so you assumed. Regardless, it set your insides on fire, but it made his presence known— as if to say “I’m here, don’t worry.”

Your breath hitched: “And I’m (y/n) (l/n).”

[ One Day Later, Vil’s Bedroom ]

“Potato, what are you doing here? It’s the weekend.”

You hugged your sides. He was sweating. You’ve never seen Vil in anything but his school uniform, Pomefiore’s dorm uniform, and pajamas. There he was… standing right before you in a stormy gray tank top. While he was wearing pajama bottoms, the look was foreign to you. What should you say? You never knew he worked out.  Were those weights heavy? Is he training for a certain role?

“I have something for you: a small thank you gift for yesterday,” you said, brushing past your thoughts.

“Oh? You don’t have to thank me. I wanted a good grade too so don’t think too highly of me… Simply improving is enough.”

You shook your head, “I insist. I want to do something for you too. I would feel guilty if it were any other way.”

Vil rested his palm on your head. You looked up at him attentively. The height difference between the both of you was immense. Compared to Vil, you were a dwarf.

“What is it that you want to show me?” he sighed.

You jumped with excitement, handing him a small container. He took them.

“What’s this?”

“Open them.”

“Alright, alright. Such a demanding potato…”

You watched him gingerly pop off the lid to reveal your culinary creation. Your eyes wandered back to his violet orbs.

“Potato, what is this?”

Did he honestly not know or did he think you were jesting?

“They’re oatmeal raisin cookies. I made them myself. It’s all organic ingredients, I promise. There’s apples in it too. I know you watch your diet, but I think it would be okay if you ate just one. At least?”

You scratched the back of your neck while Vil stared at them in bewilderment.

“Just one.”

“Yay~”

His furrowed eyebrows softened as he took a bite, “Not bad, potato.”

He placed it back in the container and closed the lid. Your heart sank. Was it just for show? Were they bad?

“Don’t take it personally. They are delicious. I don’t eat too many sweets though. I… also have a meeting with my producers after this. So perhaps later, my dear.”

“Oh alright.”

[ Someday– Your Birthday, Alchemy Classroom ]

You weren’t sure what kind of strings were pulled or if this class had free seating, but Vil gradually sat closer and closer to you. Now, his seat was next to you. He said that it was because he could not stand the other potatoes near his old seat and that he’d much rather sit with a friend who helped him stay on task– which in turn made your heart melt.

Answers weren’t the only things you two shared now. You often brought snacks to share with him. You brought healthy ones like apple crisps and celery sticks for accommodate the diet of your classmate. He only consumed workout smoothies in the morning. He would drink one before he went for a run with no post-workout smoothies to make up for the calories he burnt. For someone who claims to life a healthy lifestyle, Vil was oftentimes too busy to keep up with it. He rose when the sun kissed the tips of the hills. Granted, he could have risen earlier so he could consume his post-workout meal, but his work trails later in the night. Sleep was important to him. Between balancing his beauty sleep and fitness regime, he frequently came to Alchemy with his hair still wet from a morning shower, his eyes caked with concelaer, and an empty stomach.

The first time you offered him something to munch on and regain the calories burnt, he declined. But as these days became more frequent, Vil caved.  

“Potato.”

He slumped against his desk– a rare sight from the Pomefiore student.

“You should stop pushing yourself,” you said, taking out a container.

He shook his head.

“A break would be nice once in a while, Vil.”

He rolled his eyes, slipping off his gloves to take off the lid. God, he was so stubborn. He was going to burn out one day.

“I don’t mind sharing food with you, but you should pace yourself. Take a day off”

He shook his head again. Why though? Did his schedule not allow him to? Vil worked late sometimes, but was it worth it?

“Potato.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have anything aside from these cookies?”

You inhaled sharply, closing the lid and shoving it in your bag. They might have crumbled, but you didn’t want him to know. 

“Unfortunately, no sorry,” you sighed, clutching your bag’s handle.

“Fine then. I’ll just eat one then.”

“No.”

“Why not? “

“It’s not healthy for you.”

Vil lunged for your bag. His stomach growled. You did your best to stifle a giggle. 

“You just said it was alright to take a break,” he said.

“You can’t have them.”

“How come?”

“They’re for me…” you whispered.

“Come again?”

“These are mine.”

He hummed, clearly not buying into your excuse. Perhaps excuse was not the right word because they were for you. They were self-indulgent treats that you made for yourself around this time of year. They were self-indulgent with a miserable origin. 

At this point, he was gripping your wrist. Since when was VIl this forceful? He never crossed any boundaries. He was never nosy. Was he concerned? Or did the madness of hunger consume him?

He was akin to a stray kitten. You were the one to offer him food in the first place. There were two cookies. One wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine. Just one. Please don’t eat the other though. I’d like to eat one on my birthday.”

“Birthday? Potat–”

You put your hand over his mouth on impulse. He was going to throw a fit with you for placing your “breeding ground for bacteria”  on his face, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you pleaded, “But, yes, today is my birthday.”

Crewel’s footsteps echoed through the room, “Silence, puppies!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vil hissed under his breath.

“I’m not big on birthdays. The attention is too much– plus, rarely anyone celebrates with me.”

“You honestly remind me of that one miserable Diasomnia first year from the class next door.”

The conversation was left at that.

[ A Few Hours Later, Courtyard ]

“Potato.”

“Vil?”

Where did he come from? How did he find you? Class had ended a few minutes ago. What’s more is that you only saw him every other day due to the Alchemy schedules. It was the only class you had with him. You never saw him outside of class, aside from rare encounters in the cafeteria. You ate in the library to avoid people so that was partly your fault too.

“Come with me.”

“Pardon?”

“I won’t take no for an answer. You are the birthday girl, after all.”

He struck his signature pose, one hand on his hip and the other pointed, barely touching his cheek. When did he develop this again?

Wait. What did he just say?

[ Pomefiore Dormitory, Vil’s Bedroom ]

“Here. This is an anxiety journal. Think of it as a diary to write your thoughts down in case you don’t have anyone to talk to”

“Vil, I can't take this,” you said, pushing the notebook away.

“I insist.”

“Still…”

“You said you didn’t celebrate. And that others didn’t celebrate either, no?”

“Yes…”

“If you don’t put yourself out there and let people know, then how are others going to celebrate? And then you go mope around and eat cookies all by yourself in the library with the ghosts?”

Was he watching you? You were sure that there was no one there when the ghosts sang you happy birthday.

“I never said I was moping. I don’t care if I’m all alone. I don’t mind at all. I’m perfectly okay with that. I don’t need to be acknowledged or receive any gifts of pity so please just leave it at that…. I appreciate the gesture though.”

He leered. You took a step back. Was he angry? Why? This doesn’t concernto him. Why was he getting angry?

“I care. So take it.”

You caved, taking the journal. It was similar to the Pomefiore dorm leader’s grimoire: leather bound, decorated in gold decals in floral patterns and peacock feathers. It was pretty. You were a fool. A sensitive and broken fool. You were crying over a notebook, a gift put together at the last minute with tender loving care by a classmate you barely knew. It had been a long time since you felt this happy, this acknowledged.

Vil grimaced, “Oh stop crying already. I told you that I was here for you.”

He embraced you. It was awkward, but wholesome. You never hugged him before. He was warm. Perhaps a little bony for it to be of any comfort, but that was most likely due to the position you two were him. His head pats were stiff. It was ill at ease, but endearing.

Vil was your friend. Though not the closest, you treasured his actions. You weren’t sure how he put up with you. Or why even, but all you were concerned in at this moment was that he cared. It would be lovely to not assume the worst in people for once.

[ Present Day, Vil’s Bedroom ]

What would Vil surprise with you this year? He hasn’t mentioned anything yet.

The makeover was nice, but you weren’t big on makeovers. Did you get to keep this dress? It was embellished with lace and frills– fancy. It was white, pink and floral like the Heartslabyul croquet court. You felt pretty albeit out of your own skin. Vil hummed a soft song whilst cleaning his makeup brushes.

Would that be all?  It was your first birthday as a couple. Were you ungrateful if you asked if there was anything else? His schedule was tight. What would he say if you mentioned that today was your birthday? What would he say if you asked if he had forgotten? Would you sound narcissistic? 

Would he say the same thing he said to you when you were second years?

[ One Year Ago, Someday– Your Birthday, Hallway ]

“Vil!”

You were so excited to see him again. You couldn’t stop yourself from running up to him.

“(y/n).”

“I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you? Congratulations. It’s a bit late though. How’s being Pomefiore’s new dorm leader treating you?”

He brushed his hair off his shoulders. Ah... a new hairstyle. He was wearing the barette you made for his birthday. You missed the French braid, but you felt that he was more relaxed when he let his hair down (literally).

“Rook. Guide the baby potatoes back to our dorm. Give us a moment,” Vil said to the person he was walking with.

Rook, you assumed. He was bizarre with his exaggerated features and hat. You were certain that the accessory violated campus dress codes. Needless to say, he was beautiful in his own way– just like any Pomefiore student.

“Oui, Roi du Poison. I shall leave you with ta chérie~” he breathed, prancing away with the first years.

“Ta what now?”

“Don’t mind him,” Vil said, “I am doing well, thank you, (y/n).”

No “potato” this time? Not even once? You hadn’t seen him since your second year started, only keeping up with his life through Magicam and story replies. Sometimes, he messaged you to check up on you or ask to compare answers for Alchemy and Potions. You packed snacks for him though that routine eventually ceased as Vil began taking better care of himself, opting only to run when he had the time.

You missed those days, but his well being was more important than your own selfish feelings. You had grown fond of that nickname since he used it so often. It was a term of endearment. It saddened you that he called others potatoes as well.

“Happy birthday by the way,” Vil said.

“Oh! You remember?”

“There you go again. I don’t have the memory of a goldfish– of course I remember. Though I don’t have a gift for you this time around.”

Did you offend him? Did you sound needy? You weren’t asking for any presents. Did it come off that way?

“I don’t need anything so it’s fine.”

Or rather, you didn't expect anything.

“Good grief. It’s your birthday. Chin up. Have the attention on yourself for one day. It’s your day after all. Anyhow,I would love to chit chat more, but my schedule is tight. I cannot dilly dal–”

You reached for his hand, “W-Would you like to hang out at a café sometime then?”

You cut him off. Was that too abrupt? Rude? Uncalled for? You should have let him leave even if you did miss being around him, being friends with him.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to. I was just thinking that maybe we could spend some time together and catch up. We haven’t seen each other in person too much. I’m not comfortable with too much attention either so yours is more than enough.”

God, what were you saying? That was cringe-worthy. You prayed that he would decline your impulsive proposal.

“I don’t see why not. Very well then, (y/n). Text me the details so I can adjust my schedule accordingly.”

Wait. He agreed? Was he pitying you? No, no. Stop doubting him. Vil was your friend. He must’ve missed being around you too.

[ One Month Later, Cafe Rosé ]

When he said he was busy, he meant it. A month had passed since your birthday and just now were you able to meet up.

You sat in the café idly. He watched you consume your third plate of strawberry shortcake. You glanced at him then at your growing pile of dishes. He squinted. Should you stop?

“Don’t.”

Did he read your mind?

“No, I’m not a mind reader.”

“But you did it again.”

“Your expressions are easy to read. Do yourself a favor and don’t feel bad if you  enjoy something and I don’t. Someone who makes you feel bad for getting excited about something– something harmless, something you enjoy, is the worst kind of person. Enjoy your cake, birthday girl. Don’t let me, or anyone for that matter, stop you.”

Vil sipped his hand-pressed superfruit smoothie vehemently.

That was oddly inspiring despite having relevance to your self-esteem and cake. Funnily enough, you did feel better about yourself.

“Excuse me? May I get three more slices of this cake? And another teapot, please?” you called out to a server impulsively.

What on earth were you doing? Was that rude? Did she find you demanding?

“Anything else?”

“That’ll be all for now.”

You turned from the waitress, bringing your attention back to Vil. You cocked your head to the side: “What?”

“Consume cake in moderation, you potato.”

There it was. You’ve been waiting all semester to be called a potato. Pomefiore first years have expressed a strong dislike for the nickname. You, on the other hand, treasured it. Time and memories were built into that nickname.

“It’s fine. I’m paying anyway so don’t worry.”

“You are not paying on your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday though.”

“We’re here for a belated celebration.”

“So an unbirthday?”

“No, no. Don’t bring the Queen of Hearts’s rules and gimmicks into this,” Vil waved his hand.

He set his smoothie down, The ice shifted, echoing throughout the café.

“I want to pay. I wanted to go here in the first place.”

“Think of this as my belated birthday present for you, atonement for not getting you anything or talking as much we’d like.”

“Vil, I don’t require anything from you. You’re busy. You don’t have to talk to me everyday. I think I would combust if you did. My social battery would drain.”

“That’s reassuring.”

The waitress cleared her throat. Vil nodded, sliding his glass to the further end of the table. She placed the cake slices in a neat triangle before setting the teapot down in the center. Then she followed up with the teacups–one for you, one for Vil. He raised an eyebrow at you. Your server gave a polite bow and dismissed herself.

“Eat one slice. Then I’ll let you pay,” you beamed, sliding him the plate.

He glared at the confection, “Alright.”

[ March, Pomefiore Dormitory Hallway ]

“Bonjour, bonjour! What brings you to our humble dorm?”

Rook was his name right?

“Hello, Rook. I was hoping–”

He scared the living daylight out of you. Where did he come from? Why was nobody else around? You spun your heel and scanned the hall. It was empty.

“Echanté, mademoiselle! Let me guess!”

You yelped, falling backwards. Where did he come from? He was behind you a moment ago. His eyes widened as he lunged for you, hooking his arm around your waist, catching you before you made contact with the ground.

“Careful, careful, little fawn,” he chuckled.

Fawn?

He set you straight then pointed at you. His gloved index finger barely touched the bridge of your nose. This man, Rook, was sending your nerves in a downward spiral. 

He smiled at you, resuming like nothing ever happened: “Let me guess– you’re looking for your darling Roi du Poison?”

“Darling… Roi du Poison? Who? Vil?”

“Oui.”

“No, he’s not.. we’re not. We’re just friends. I’m looking for him though bec–”

“Are you here for compensation?”

Rook set Anxiety loose. With a few words, he sent shivers down your spine. Compensation. Would your friendship end the moment you fulfilled his request? It had always been in the back of your mind. The thought of Vil using you to make him feel better about himself shatters you into a million pieces. The thought of owing Vil something for helping you, for being your friend, was heart-wrenching. Was it pity after all this time? Was it so wrong to want to hang out at yet another café? You looked forward to those every month– ever since your unbirthday date. Was your relationship that superficial?

No, it wasn’t a date. You wanted it to be, but it was not a date. You never quite shook off those romantic feelings you felt when you saw a different side to him. Beneath the surface of the poised, strict and sometimes narcissistic prefect, Vil was extremely hard working, passionate, and observant. He was the greatest friend you could ever ask for. You can’t say that he was your best friend, but he was close. If he didn’t feel the same, then that was okay with you. You weren’t even sure if it was love. You’ve had this debate with Anxiety before. It kept telling you that you were in love with the idea of him fixing you. That was not love.

You shook your head. Vil genuinely was your friend. If those feelings were not returned, then you would still be friends.  He told you time and time again that you should never feel sorry for the way you feel. If so, then would it be alright to tell him one day? And feel terrible about it later?

“He’s here, isn’t he?” you asked.

“Oui~”

“Rook, (y/n),” a voice from the end of the half coughed.

Pomefiore’s vice dorm leader crossed his arms and gave you a smug smile. Vil. He was decked out in a trench coat and a black turtleneck. Stylish as always, but his hoarse voice told a different story. You rushed to Vil’s side.

“Vil, are you alright?,” you tugged his sleeves, “Your eyes are so puffy. Have you been crying? You’re burning up too. You should rest. Go back to bed this instant. Our café rendezvous can wait.”

He staggered: “No. I want to go with you. I finally have the time.. to see you… I have to make it count...”

“No, Vil. You have a fever. You need to rest,” you said, sliding his arm over your shoulders, ready to haul him back to his quarters.

Rook hummed a bird’s song.

“Would you mind helping?”

The height difference between you and Vil was awkward. His legs are dragged across the floor in a languid manner. One could imagine how uncomfortable that was.

“Non non, little fawn! My hands are dirty. Roi du Poison wouldn’t allow me to taint his beauty with such bacteria. Désolé!”

“Can you at least get the door then?”

“Will do, milady,” he bowed before complying to your request.

He held the door for you as you dragged Vil to his bed. You gasped as Vil’s limbs tighten around your neck.

“Would you mind getting the sheets too? Pull them out so I can tuck him in?”

Rook hummed in response. You plopped Vil onto the mattress. Your companion’s eyes widened, hands thrown in the air.

“Mademoiselle! Careful! Roi du Poison is fragile like a flower’s first bloom.”

“He’ll be fine don’t worry. Now if you could–”

Where did he go? You blinked for one minute and the vice prefect was gone.  You shook your head in dismay, turning to Vil and tucked him in bed. He looked so peaceful. His eyes were so distraught and dull before. Did he overwork himself to the point of tears? His room was a mess– shreds of fabric and crumpled balls of paper were discarded on the floor. You could hear his breathing as you made way to his desk.

What’s this? A script? And a sewing machine? What was he making? His sketches were stunning. Was this a side project of his? Was he too busy with films to continue with it? But why were his eyes so puffy?

Whatever the case was, it wasn’t your place to pry. Your fingers trailed off over the sketchbook as you made your way to his bathroom. You didn’t know where he kept the medicine or what kind he used, but it was worth a try to look around.

You opened the cabinet and your face fell. At a glance, he didn’t have anything aside from comesetics. There were a few bottles of potions, but you couldn’t make out the labels. It was best not to guess and check. The least you could do was place a wet on his head to cool down the fever. You peered over the bathroom’s door frame.

He wouldn’t mind. He was breathing heavily. You’ll face the consequences later if it violated his beauty regime. Hurriedly, you grabbed a small towel off the shelf, rinsing it in cold water in the sink. You squeezed off the excess and rushed to Vil, cursing at intervals where the water dripped onto whatever expensive material the flooring was made of. Was it expensive? You couldn’t tell. You placed it on his head gingerly. 

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Holy… what did you just do? You were taking advantage of him when he was out cold. If he was awake what would he say? Why did you do that? Why did that make your heart flutter?

“F-Feel better, Vil. I’ll be going now. Tell me when you wake up,” you sighed, patting your cheeks down.

You were a fool for initiating such an intimate act while someone was sleeping. You were also talking to said someone as if they were listening. It was best to excuse yourself now. Though maybe a little note would be helpful for when he wakes up. Your sleeves dipped. Your eyes went to the source of motion: Vil.

“Fairest… can you stay?”

You were at a loss for words. Vil called you “Fairest”– as if your other nickname didn’t exist. His face was flushed from the heat and his eyes were red and teary. What to do? What to do? What to do?

Vil tugged at your sleeves and pulled you onto the bed. Your mind went blank. You were on top of him, preventing yourself from crushing him with your weight, hands pinned on each side of his head.

“V-Vil?”

He pulled you onto him, then turned to the side, causing you to face each other. The blankets were ruffled, wrapping you two into a contorted position. The towel slipped off his face. You scrambled out of bed. Vil lunged for you, pulling you back in.

“I said stay,” he pouted.

“I know, I was just getting out of bed to get back in. Wait that doesn’t make sense?”

“It does,” he said, lifting the sheets so you could climb in,

You yelped as he pulled you into his chest, “Vil? What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you today.”

“I’m here.”

“I wanted to go on another date with you.”

Date? Does he think it was a date too? Every single one? Great Seven, have mercy…

“You should rest. We can hang out here if you want.”

Your hold on his waist tightened. You inhaled the faint scent of his cologne. Perhaps to him, this was a fever dream. Stil, all love takes patience– if what you both felt was love, that is.

“Thank you for staying , (y/n).”

“...Do you want to talk about it? Usually you’re the one listening to me, but I’m here for you too. ”

Vil buried his head into your shoulders, “Nothing much. Just overworked. Stress came to me in the form of sickness, unfortunately. How inconvenient.”

He clicked his tongue while you giggled. Even if bedridden, Vil’s mind was as proactive as ever.

“Were you crying?”

“...”

“You don’t have to answer.”

How do you comfort someone? You’ve always been the one comforted, especially from Vil. Were you gaining more from the relationship than Vil did? You wanted him to cheer up though...

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s better to get it off my chest while you’re still here.”

What did he mean by that? You weren’t leaving. Why would you? How could you?

“Do you think I’m more than my appearance?”

He was shaking. Vil was shaking. What could have possibly happened from the last time you saw him? Was he alright?

“Why do you want my opinion? We both know you’re more than a pretty face.”

“Answer the question.”

“Alright, alright. I do think you have a pretty face. You’re gorgeous, very handsome… but you’re also hardworking, diligent, strong-willed, driven, intelligent, observant and more words that I can’t think of to describe how I feel about you. Oh and a great alchemist and friend I might add. Vil, you’re pretty. You’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

Your heart hurt. Calling him your friend didn’t sit right with you. He threw his head back in a fit of laughter.

“Did I ramble too much?”

“No, not at all. I feel much better so thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better then. Whatever happened, I hope you know that it doesn’t define you. If you feel like it does, then remember that I’m your biggest fan.”

Ah, too cheesy. You’ve gotten too comfortable around Vil to think about Anxiety or your verbal filter. When you were with him, words flowed as freely as time.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

He didn’t say anything much about it. Was that not weird for him? Did you offer the solace he was looking for? He merely pulled away from your embrace. You thanked the heavens that his eyes were closed. If he made eye contact with you while you two were still sharing the same bed, you might as well ascend to the afterlife.

“Why do you ask though?”

“Oh I just had a miserable case of self-doubt is all. My manager kept taking roles that type-casted me as beautiful as the main character. I know I’m worth more than my looks- I want to be more than my looks-  but so far the industry has told me otherwise… but thank you, (y/n).”

He stayed like that for a while, inhaling and exhaling softly. Was he sleeping? How much time had passed?

“Vil. I have a question for you. You don’t have to answer if you’re not up to it. I know you have a lot on your mind right...” you said, breaking the silence.

“Shoot.”

“Will I be able to see you again after I compensate for the time I’ve wasted?”

“You don’t waste time. You don’t have to compensate for anything. I’m glad you’re here with me. If anything, I wasted your time.”

“But you said that we could talk about compensation later. It’s been over a year, Vil,” you whimpered.

“What do you mean by compensation?” he asked firmly, opening his eyes.

You choked on your own words. This was a bad idea. It might even offend him. Would if offend him? You wanted to know.

“Our first presentation. My anxiety attack. The infirmary. You helped me. I asked why then you said there was a price and we could talk about it later. But that conversation never came up. Why is that? Why did you come to the infirmary that night? Why did you take me in? Why am I here? Why do you still talk to me?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from spewing all of the questions you had for these past months. You needed to know. You needed your heart to shatter.

He sighed, “Good grief, (y/n). You remember all of that still? It’s not as bad as you think.”

He was offended.

“Please don’t say that.”

He inhaled sharply. 

“My apologies, potato. I didn’t mean it like that. But to answer your question, I felt guilty especially since I was the one who forced you onto the podium and made you redo the presentation because I couldn’t manage my first major acting role and my academics at the same time. I am sorry that you had to suffer the consequences.”

Vil turned onto his back. He brought his forearm to cover his eyes. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Did it hurt his pride? 

“I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry that I ruined our project because I couldn’t manage to improvise.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for that.”

“You shouldn’t either. Your feelings are just as valid as mine. Even if you don’t have anxiety, you still can feel anxious and overwhelmed.”

“Touché.”

“And the compensation?”

“You needn’t worry about that. My time is valuable indeed but you’re not a waste of my time at all. You’re worthwhile.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you muttered.

“Hm?”

“What would have been the compensation?”

Vil turned to face you, rustling the sheets, “Are you that curious, Fairest?”

“F-Fairest?”

“Hm, yes it suits you now more than ever. Close your eyes for a moment. This should be quick.”

You obliged, closing your eyes. Vil wouldn’t do something terrible to you would he? He gripped your shoulders and pushed you flat on your back. You felt him shift his leg so he could straddle you. You instinctively cursed yourself in a ball.

“You can relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You loosened your muscles, trying hard not to burst into a fit of nervous laughter. You were scared.

“Fairest.”

“Yes?”

“How was your day?”

“Well, it was—mmmphhh!”

Vil had told you to keep your eyes closed, but how could you? Not when he was kissing you. You had waited for this moment. You fantasized about it, daydreaming, pining for him on the daily. You never saw it coming. Did he return your feelings? After all this time? You mewled as he bit your bottom lip. You were hot, feverish just like your beloved prefect. Was he alright? He was flushed, coughing as you pushed him away.

“My time has been compensated,” he smirked.

His expression quickly changed, “Hey! Why are you crying? Did I hurt you? That was too bold wasn’t it… Goodness (y/n)...”

You cupped his cheeks.

“Not at all. I’m just so happy that you feel the same.”

“Feel the same?”

You faltered. Was he toying with you? No, he wouldn’t…

“I-I like you a lot, you know. I don’t know of a time I didn’t. You’re so confident and I adore you for that. I love how you’re always there for me, how you always listen to me, and how you lean on me too. I love how you include me and see me no less than anyone else. I love you so much that my heart hurts,” you paused and moved your hands to clutch your chest, “But if it isn’t love then I suppose that’s fine too. I think I might be in love with the idea of you. It might be a little presumptuous here, spouting nonsense to you, but I don’t want to be just friends. Even if I am broken, I want to make you happy so please accept my feelings-!”

Cheesy. Too cheesy! You’re oversharing, (y/n). Stop. It. Death suddenly seemed like a viable option. You loved him so much that you must die. Yes, that was the only way.

Vil kissed you. This time, it was more of a peck.

“This whole time… you… I love you too, Fairest. I accept you and your feelings.  Thank you for being so patient with me,” he kissed the trail of tears running down your cheeks, “You already make me so happy. I love your innocence, your beauty—inside and out as you would say. I admire your strength to help others despite being in a world of your own. I love your selflessness and... your adorable reactions to situations that make you anxious. Please, tug at my sleeves some more.”

You pouted at the last bit. Vil was observant. You’ve come to learn that the hard way. The trait never withered.

He continued: “I will be in your care from now on.”

Ah. He was crying. Smiling too. What a sappy mess of emotions you two were, sobbing in each other’s arms over a mutual confession.

He flicked your forehead, “And don’t you dare call yourself broken. You are not below me and I am not above you. We’re in this together. I love you and you love me and you better love yourself too. You hear me, potato?”

“Yes, but–”

“Did I stutter?”

You pressed your forehead against his, “Will do, Vil.”

He lowered his weight onto you, nuzzling into your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck and combed through his champagne gold locks. You were sniffling. You were relieved that he loved you the way you loved him. You were relieved that you didn’t fall in love with potential. He loved you for you and you loved him the same. What if you weren’t good enough for? No, no, he said he felt the same. Stop overthinking, (y/n). 

You were drained after all this worrying. Being plagued by thoughts assuming the worst about him and the worst case scenarios concerning your confession consumed your mind. There was not a single day where your head was clear.

You were exhausted. So, so, so tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of Anxiety. Sleep seemed nice right now especially with Vil laying on top of you. The monster inside your head had gone dormant. All there was the thought of Vil being by your side, loving you and Anxiety all the same.

Your consciousness faded.

[ April, Someday– Vil’s Birthday, Pomefiore Dormitory Hallway ]

“Vil. Vil!!!”  you squealed, tackling your lover from behind.

He staggered on his toes, but recovered swiftly. He was tall. The stilettos made him taller. You were up to his shoulders, giggling, slipping under the long sleeves of the Pomefiore dorm uniform.

“Au revoir, Roi du Poison. Mademoiselle (y/n),” Rook chuckled and excused himself.

Vil gave Rook a look of disdain yet the vice prefect skipped along the halls, paying no mind to the daggers coming his way. Your beloved turned to you and smiled.

“Happy birthday~”

“You’re frisky today.”

“I’m excited.”

“I can see that. Thank you,” he pats your head.

“Are you busy?”

“I’m finishing up something. You’re welcome to wait in my room. Might I tell you that you look beautiful today? Red lipstick suits you.”

You followed him into his quarters, seating yourself on the bed, fiddling with the ends of your hair. He called you beautiful. You were giddy over something trivial. It was normal for one to call their significant other beautiful. In truth, he was the fairest, not you. You never minded. You loved watching him flourish in the spotlight.

You watched him undo his bun, letting his hair fall loose. The ends were curled, bouncing on his shoulders. He stepped into the bathroom to shed the dorm uniform off, opting for a black suit with faint floral patterns. Your eyes widened, coming to terms with the fact that he wore no dress shirt underneath the suit.

“You’re eighteen now, Vil,” you mused.

“What of it?”

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking.”

He hummed in response, “Is that so?”

“It feels like yesterday when we were both- what? Fifteen? Nevermind that. It’s silly. Would you like to see your gift now?”

“How does after the party sound?” he asked, lining his eyes with a thick eyeliner.

A thin smirk creeped up on his lips.

The look was similar to the standard ceremonial robes makeup. His silver chain-like earrings, leather choker and red heels threw off the professional look. Vil was striking. From what he told you, his producers had invited him to a party celebrating the release of a film he starred in. It was conveniently on his birthday. He spent the last few weeks convincing you to go with him. 

You gave in, but the thought of attending a social gathering with people you had never met before worried you. Vil reassured you that he would remain by your side at all times. You agreed on the spot, putting on a brave face for his sake. He promised to spend time with you afterwards. Just you and him. He even agreed to eat cake.

“I’m okay with that.”

“Thank you. I know you’re excited, but I want to save all the birthday related things for after.”

He set his makeup down and handed you a container of gel, climbing onto the bed while you got on your knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You never let me do your hair.”

“Think of it as a reward for coming along with me.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to worry about that,” you said, letting go of your embrace and popping off the container’s lid.

“I’m thankful, but don’t push yourself for me.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I want to. You’re going to be busy after today. I want to spend as much time as possible with you today.”

He smiled and helped you push his hair back. Dipping your fingers into the cool aquamarine substance, you combed through your lover’s hair, bringing his bangs back. When you finished, he turned around to kiss you. He caught you off guard, but you leaned into the kiss instantly. It wasn’t passionate nor was it chaste. It was somewhere in between as to not smear your lipstick. You reached for his hair to deepen it, but he grabbed your wrists. Right. You had forgotten. 

“Later,” he whispered.

Your cheeks were dusted with a rosy tint. Later? As quickly as he pulled away from you, Vil slid off the bed. He passed by his mirror, patting down his suit and hair. Then, he extended his hand to you, “Shall we go?”

[ Land of Pyroxene, Venue’s Rose Gardens ]

Vil said it was a small social gathering. A small party. The amount of people was fair to his description, but the setting was overwhelming. It was sophisticated. There were fae servers and ice sculptures. You were surprised to learn that the soirée was held in his homeland. You were expecting a carriage yet he simply led you to the mirror chamber where the headmaster bid him farewell.

And here you are. You were in a rose garden differed from Heartslabyul’s greatly as the roses were as white as snow. They grew on pickets and hung over your heads like grape vines. It was scenic, ethereal, like something out of a fairytale. There was also a castle in the distance, adding to the regality of the venue. 

“Vil! Oh thank goodness you’re here. I almost thought you were going to leave me to fend against all of these actors wanting to know more about you,” a stout woman said, scrambling towards him, “Oh? Is this your– ohhhhh–”

“Adella, this is (y/n). Fairest, this is Adella, my manager.”

Vil paused, cueing you for an introduction. He glanced at you.

“Chin up, dear,” he wrapped an arm around your waist, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Breathe. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Adella was Vil’s manager. Like he said, she’s nothing to be afraid of.

“P-Pleasure to meet you,” you extended your hand out.

She took it with a death grip. Sheer willpower prevented you from wincing. 

“No, no, the pleasure is mine. Vil has told me so much about you. And my, he calls you ‘Fairest’ how adorable~”

“What has he told you?”

You heard his breath hitch. Vil’s arm slithered back to his side. Was that too much? You were curious, but what if that made him uncomfortable? You should apologize later. 

“Nothing much. I didn’t even know what you looked like even! His pet name for you suits you so well. Oh! I do know that he frequently asks about his schedule because he said that he wants to spend time with the s–”

“That’s enough now, Adella,” Vil said, crossing his arms and putting his weight on one foot.

Shoot. He was displeased. 

“Yes, yes, sorry. Shall we go greet your colleagues? You are free to mingle afterwards. I know that there was this one actor who was practically begging me to see you. You weren't here yet though so what could I do? Fufufu~”

“Are you coming, (y/n)?” Vil asked, turning his head to see you trailing behind.

You halted and pointed to the dessert table, “You can go on ahead.”

He nodded and followed his manager to the east side of the garden. You made your way to your own destination. While you wanted to go with Vil, meeting Adella set your nerves ablaze and drained all the social energy you had. Plus, you felt out of place when you stood next to Vil.

Compared to him, you could never pull off silver earrings. A pair of red heels simply looked better on him than they ever would on you. Then there was Adella who was also gorgeous with her messy bun and nude lipstick. She wasn’t a public figure yet you felt small around her presence. She exuded a lovable aura that drew people around her.  If you had to meet more people who were meant for the spotlight, celebrities no less, you could never manage through the night. If you avoided strangers, you should be fine. There were cake pops amongst other treats at the table. You were going to have a ball of a time.

You plucked the confection off its stand, examining it thoroughly. It was as luxurious as the party’s decor. The dessert resembled the poison apple the Beautiful Queen from the stories you were told as a child. Gold foil acted as the poison while a red coating of candy melts acted as the skin of the apple. You bit the top off. It was a vanilla sponge cake. Odd for an extravagant event like this as you assumed the flavors would be bolder. Maybe it was the kind expensive vanilla. Were they all the same flavor? You plucked another one from the stand, biting into it. Oh this one was red velvet with a cream cheese filling. Were there other flavors?

“My, my, you sure like the cake pops, don’t you?” a voice cooed.

You turned your head to meet the owner of that sweet voice. He had hair as black as ebony and skin as white as snow. His eyes were a warm chocolate brown. He wore a yellow jumpsuit with a red ribbon which was complemented by a black beret. He strained a smile at you.

“You needn’t look at me like a deer in headlights. It’s okay I like cake pops too,” he laughed.

“Who are you?”

“Eh? You don’t know who I am?”

You shook your head. He blinked twice. 

“I’m Neige LeBlanche, lead actor of the film. But, say, since you don’t know who I am, I’m assuming you’re someone’s plus one? You seem kind of young though...”

He took a cake pop from the stand, peeling off the gold foil.

“I’m Vil’s plus one.”

“Vil? I would have never guessed. I thought he said he wasn’t bringing someone. He didn’t seem like he wanted to either...” he mumbled something and paused, “As expected of my senior! Say, what are you to him?”

You pulled the ends of your hair, “I-I’m his girlfriend.”

“Is that so? He never mentioned having a girlfriend. I always thought he was going to end up–”

“We started dating a few weeks ago.”

“Oh my, that’s–”

“I have to go so if you’ll excuse me, Neige. It’s been nice meeting you. Congrats on the film,” you waved.

“No, no, the pleasure is mine, (y/n). I’m glad I got to meet Vil’s girlfriend. You were so sweet! I hope we can talk some more in the future! Oh I know–You should follow me on MagiCam! We can talk there,” he exclaimed, clasping his hands around yours.

He was so bubbly… You didn’t know how to handle him. Was this interaction not awkward to him at all? Your cheeks flushed as you excused yourself. You held your head down low and avoided eye contact with everyone you crossed paths with. Where you were headed to was a mystery, even to you. Anywhere was fine. Anywhere secluded. Anywhere without people, but close enough to trace your footsteps back to the rose gardens should anything arise.

Of course, that was the ideal scenario. In your situation, nothing was ideal per se. You were lost. You had trudged forward whilst looking at the ground, not getting a good look of your surroundings at all. It was hard to tell where you were. If you had known better, you would say that you were in a children’s book. The rose bushes towered high above your head and the castle was closer than it was before. In the center of it all was a gazebo adorned with intricate floral details. There was also a well to the side of the structure. You made your way to the gazebo and sat down on the bench, gazing upon the beauty of the raven sky. It glittered like a thousand fireflies.

You sighed, “The moon is beautiful tonight.”

[ Some Ungodly Hour, Venue’s Rose Garden ]

“Nghh…”

“You’re awake now?”

Vil? What was he doing here? The moon was high in the sky. It was late. You were resting your head on his lap. You sat upright in an abrupt motion.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Ruining the party by running off and falling asleep, wasting your time when you could have been talking to someone more important–”

Vil put a finger to your lips: “I was getting exhausted of people commenting on my looks anyway. You did worry me by running off though. To think that I had to ask Neige of all people too.”

That last part about Neige. Did he not like his co-star? He ran his hand through his hair while you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. You opted to lean your head on his shoulder. Vil reciprocated by placing his head on top of yours, nuzzling it.

“The party is still ongoing so don’t worry,” he said, “Though you could have told me where you were.”

You exhaled. Thank goodness. It would have been embarrassing if it ended.

“Sorry about that.”

“Was it that exhausting for you? I told you not to push yourself for my sake. It makes neither of us happy.”

“At first, no, I wasn’t. I was a bit nervous around your manager but then Neige threw me off for a bit–”

“Neige? What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. He just asked what I was to you and I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

Your stomach growled. You looked down at the ground. Suddenly the grass below your feet was the most interesting thing in the world. He took your hand firmly. His grip was different. He held you as if he was about to lose you.

“I had talked to everyone I needed to talk to. I’m done for the day and so are you. I would like to celebrate my birthday now with my dearly beloved if she would please.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. There was no room for apologies.

You rose from the bench, grimacing at the soreness and took his hand, following him to the mirror.

[ Midnight, Vil’s Bedroom ]

Was he mad? He said he wasn’t. But then why was he handling you so roughly? Vil pulled you into the bathroom. He turned the faucet on, drawing water into the bathtub. He grabbed a bottle of bubble bath product and rose petals. He emptied the contents and discarded the containers onto the cool tiles. They rattled and echoed. Vil turned to his cabinets, searching for something. Strands of his loosely gelled hair swayed back and forth as he sifted through his cosmetics. He muttered gibberish as he found makeup wipes. Pulling you towards him, he began to wipe the gunk off your face. His motions were rigid, frantic, like he was wiping at a stubborn speck on a mirror. He turned you around and undid your dress’s zipper. The process was akin to a kitten’s first yawn. Slow, drawling yet somehow winsome. The act was intimate. Vil manhandling you was a first. It spawned many mixed motions. The positives outweigh the negatives, but was he alright? His eyes were ready to cry. They were glossy to the rim. When the zipper reached the end of its path, he pushed you aside and tended to his own face with a new wipe.

“Strip and get into the tub,” he instructed.

Strip? That was off-putting, especially from him. He didn’t want to have birthday sex did he? Or would he leave when he was done with his makeup? It had to be the latter. You held your sides, preventing the dress from slipping down your shoulders. But what if he did? What if he wanted to let out his frustrations on you? Was that it? He said he was more worried than upset, but his actions betrayed his words. He was tense. He could burst at any moment. Vil, as he was now, was a time bomb, ticking away. You feared he might break.

Vil snapped his fingers before you. You flinched. As you regain focus into the real world, you come to the sight of your lover in the tub, hair wet and his body leaning against the edge. His clothes were hanging on the laundry hamper. You looked away, excusing yourself under your breath. A tug on the hem of your dress stopped you in your tracks. He had broken. His eyes were red and puffy though no tears trailed down his fair complexion. You knelt down beside the tub, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Vil…”

“Could you stay?”

“In the tub?”

“Only if you want to.”

Why is it that he could always see through you? Was your discomfort obvious? No, no, he was merely attentive. Then again, you were equally observant to everyone, especially towards Vil. Your darling was an open book, an easy read– the merit being that his words rarely matched his actions. He was a novel full of metaphors, eloquent tones and arbitrary words. Underneath the complications, he was as simple as the next composition. He was as insecure as any other person, if not more. To read Vil Schoenheit, you mustn't analyze his speech. Words fail in this case. You had to look for the little things: his weight shifting on one leg, his shoulders tensing, his eyebrows furrowing for a brief moment, his shortness of breath, his eyes.

In this very moment in time, Vil needed you. He said there was no obligation, but the small frown on his lips told you otherwise. He was aware of your own boundaries, but at times like these, when he needed you most, your instinct to reach for him, to hold him, triumphed over your murky thoughts. There was mutual trust between you and Vil, two profoundly regardful people. One was observant because he had a keen eye for details and all things beautiful. The other was observant because she was wary of the opinions of others.

Vil turned away from you as you let your dress and undergarments fall to the ground. His eyes were closed when you climbed into the tub.

“You never have to push yourself for my sake, Fairest,” Vil said as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your back closer to his chest.

“I don’t mind if it’s for you. I will tell you when I can’t do something, I promise.”

“You better,” he sighed.

You turned around and cupped his cheeks, “What about you? Are you alright? You’ve been so stiff ever since we left.”

You scooped some soap suds onto his hair, lathering and combing though his silky locks while you waited for him to formulate the right words.

“Fairest, do you think I am more than my appearance?”

You stopped mid-caress and nodded. His looks were always a touchy subject. Vil had a severe case of type-casting, a situation where he was only casted for roles with “beautiful” as the main attribute of the character. At first, he was content with them, but as time went on, he felt defined by his appearance. His hard work was futile in an industry that valued beauty over effort. Comments such as “you only got to where you are now because of your face” was a stab in the heart for Vil. He often sought out you or Rook for comfort. It came to the point where Vil frequently declined callbacks.

He continued, “No matter how much I talked to others about my role in the film or attempted to make more connections to those in the industry, they would always comment on my ensemble first. Sometimes they comment on how I look and nothing more.”

“So you feel invalidated for your efforts?”

“Yes, I feel like none of the work I put into getting where I am now. I feel like all I had to do was look pretty and everything will be handed to me… just like Neige. I want to be as pretty as him. I want to be as popular as him. I want to be recognized for my skills and get casted for the best roles. Not superficial ones. I want… I want....”

You embraced him as he choked on his own words.

“This is hypocritical since it’s coming from me, but you should never compare yourself or your efforts or progress to anyone else. You are enough as you are, at your own pace.”

His arms engulfed you. He kissed you, intertwining his tongue with yours.

“I’m sorry,” Vil said, pulling away. 

“I’m sorry too.”

“What did I tell you about saying sorry for something that’s out of your control?”

“But you’re apologizing too,” you laughed.

He snorted.

“But I do feel guilty for leaving you alone though. Maybe I could have said something for your sake. I feel even worse since it was your birthday.”

“We’re both pathetic in that regard.”

You scooped water onto Vil’s head. He did the same for you. You looked him into the eyes before averting your gaze. They were as intense as ever.

“I accept your apology though. In turn, you should accept mine.”

“I can’t. Sorry, Vil. You told me that I should never apologize for how I feel. Neither should you.”

“But I don’t have anxi–”

“You don’t have to have anxiety or anything to have a bad mental health day. You don’t have to have anxiety or anything to feel insecure or worthless. Those feelings are valid for anyone”

“You do have a point there,” Vil said as he tousled his hair.

“I have something for you. It may not be your birthday anymore,” you glanced at the clock, “but we haven’t slept yet so in my mind the day isn’t over yet.”

“What kind of logic is that?”

“Does it still feel like a ninth of April to you?”

“Yes, but technically it’s not.”

“Think of it as a feeling then,” you said and climbed out of the tub.

Vil assisted you in the process and got towels for you both. He languidly dried your hair.  His touch was soft like a ghost’s embosom. You could barely feel his touch. Then, he waltzed over to his dresser and gave you one of his silk pajama tops. While he was getting dressed, you grabbed your gift for him, sitting on the edge of the mattress waiting for him.

Shortly after, he plopped down on the bed. The pillows bounced on impact. You held the gift bag over his chest. He looked up at you then at the bag. Sitting up, he opened it.

“Well?”

Your lover tore through the tissue paper, revealing a small box wrapped in brown wrapping paper, red ribbon and twine. His eyes sparkled like a child on Christmas Day.

He read the present tag aloud: “‘To my darling: Vil Schoenheit. Happy birthday.’”

He undid the bow, careful not to ruin the label. He found the edges of the wrapping paper and picked off the tape piece by piece and discarded it on the ground. It fell with grace. Vil lifted the lid of the box.

“A book?”

“Open it.”

Granted, you were more nervous than he was. Would he like it? Today was not his day. You hoped to make him feel better. If he didn’t like it in the slightest, you wouldn’t know how to feel. You wanted to see him smile. It was his birthday. He did not deserve to feel insecure because of soirée guests. He did not deserve to feel so small when he was your world. In fact, he deserved the world for all that he was. He worked too hard not to. His efforts deserved to be paid off. Perhaps not every day, but for his birthday, he should have. It was his day.

Vil obliged, turning to the title page.

“Eighteen things I love about you,” he read.

You leaned over his shoulder.

“Did you honestly write an essay about your love for me?”

“No,” you said, burying your head into the crook of his neck, “Just look.”

“I jest, Fairest.”

Vil licked his finger and turned the page.

“Ah. A scrapbook? Let’s see… ‘Number one: I love how—”

You put a hand over his mouth, “It’s embarrassing if you read it out loud.”

“I think it’s endearing. Besides, I live for your flushed face.”

You whined and he let out a laugh.

“I’ll spare you. I’ll only read the first one aloud.”

“That’s fair,” you mumbled.

“I hope it is. Anyhow… ‘Number one: I love how you carry yourself with utmost respect. I love how you know your worth. I love how angry you are when you are undermined– because you know you are worth more than what the current situation offers. Your confidence is contagious as it inspires me to acknowledge my own worth, to be bolder and seek opportunities that are on par to my own capabilities.’”

He paused.

“What?” you asked.

“I like how you included a photo of us as freshman potatoes,” he said, running his fingers over the image as if he was wiping away dust.

“You always were always like a star to me, ever since we first met. It was hard to start off this scrapbook without referencing that.”

You twirled the ends of your hair.

“I’m glad that you see me in such a way.”

His voice was so soft, inaudible even.

“Vil?”

No response. He flipped the book to page two. Then to page three and so forth. He was still. His chest did not rise and fall each breath. He didn’t even blink. He stopped at the last page. It read: “I love you. You as a whole– the person you present to the crowd and the person you present to a select few. I love you for every flaw and insecurity. I love and accept you in the same way you love and accept me and more. I promise to love you forevermore– no shunning, no judging, just staying by your side and watching you grow into a person I fall in love with more and more every day.”

He pushed you down onto the bed and kissed you, dropping the book onto the ground.

“V-Vil…”

A sense of déjà vu washed over you.

He was vulnerable. He knew, you knew. His lips were quivering and his eyes were glossy. But did he like it? You tried so hard not to say that you liked him because of his looks. That was a touchy subject for him. Did that last one come off as too cheesy? You were told you were quite sappy on top of having an ability with words but still…

“What are you doing writing a bunch of wedding vows, you sweet potato?” Vil muttered as he cuddled you.

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. We’re barely a month into this relationship so that’s out of the question. I’m pretty sure we’re still in our honeymoon phase too. But that’s how I feel right now. So… What if I wrote a bunch of wedding vows to you? What of it?”

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Hopefully, he didn’t find your sudden confession cringe-worthy.

“I never said it was bad... I feel the same.”

He let the last part of his sentence trail off into silence.

“Do you feel better now?”

Was that out of place? Did that kill the mood? What if you soured his mood?

“Much better, thank you. I appreciate it and… I love you too. I know I don’t say it a lot, but I think you know that already.”

“I do.”

He peppered your face with kisses. Some were on your lips, Others were on your cheeks and forehead and occasionally trailed down your jawline.

“I also have something else for you,” you spoke up, pushing him off of you so you could grab another bag that you left by the foot of his bed.

“You spoil me, Fairest.”

“It’s not much. Just a cake I made for you.”

“A whole cake?”

“A cupcake, I mean. I know you’re not one for sweets.”

“And you left it in my room with no refrigeration.”

You pointed to the ice pack. He nodded. You pulled out a cake box, propping it open on Vil’s hands and told him to hold still. You placed a candle in the center and lit with a little spark of fire magic.

“Make a wish~”

“What am I? Twelve?”

“You have to make a wish.”

“Fine,” he said as he blew out the taper, “I wish to be with you for as long as possible.”

“You can’t say your wish out loud. It won’t come true!”

“Do you have any intention of separating from me?”

“N-No.”

“I don’t see why my wish won’t come true then,” Vil said as he cut the cupcake in half, handing you a piece.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

“Careful. If you get crumbs on my bed, you’re sleeping in the spare room.”

“...Understood.”

[ Present Day, Pomefiore Hallway ]

One moment he was dolling you up, the next he was wrapping a blindfold around your eyes and led you down the hallway to god knows where. You were still walking straight so you only assumed that you were still in the Pomefiore dormitories. Unless you walked through a mirror. Or maybe you simply had a terrible sense of direction. Whatever the case was, it did not change the fact that you were trembling.

“Vil. Where are you taking me?”

He exhaled. You could hear his chest heave.

“Darling, are you scared?”

Like how you could read him like an open book, he knew you like the back of his hand. You nodded and you felt him undo the blindfold. He held the ribbon in his hand and yours in the other. You looked into his eyes for comfort. He was wearing a single French braid. It was nostalgic. It was like you were first years again. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform, but it was enough to stir up fond memories. Instead, Vil wore a casual ensemble with a kimono-esque silhouette. He wore a white dress shirt with a pair of shapeless, high-waisted black dress pants. A cardigan with an ornate pattern accentuated the look, He wasn’t wearing the barrette you made him for his sixteenth birthday either, but you felt nostalgic regardless.

“I still need you to close your eyes for me though,” he said, putting the hand with the ribbon over your eyes, “I know you’re scared, but please hold on for a little longer.”

You nodded and closed your eyes. You felt his hand leaving your face, but the other was holding yours tightly, guiding you to your destination.

“Fairest, are your eyes actually closed?” Vil asked, breaking the silence.

“Y-Yes.”

You had been walking for a few minutes now. Where was he taking you?

“Vil, do you know what today is?”

No response.

“Vil… You’re scaring me.”

“We’re almost there, don't worry.”

Would it hurt to trust him for a little bit? You trailed behind him aimlessly. Your steps lagged behind his.

“You ready?” he asked, cupping his lanky fingers over your eyes.

You nodded. Whatever could it be? Lacking sight made Anxiety rattle against your skull. Was Vil going to push you off a cliff? Send you to your doom? No, no, no. He wouldn’t. That was too extreme, (y/n). Calm down.

He lifted his fingers off of your eyes, whispering a faint “happy birthday” to you. You gasped. Pomefiore lounge decorated with streamers and balloons– color coordinated to match both the dorm’s interior as well as your favorite colors. Rose petals were sprinkled on the ground. You heard Vil step away from you. You jumped as you heard something pop and turned around to find the source. Before you could react, a swarm of confetti went your way followed by a loud “surprise!”

You blinked twice, pulling bits of paper out of your hair..  You stepped forward and spun your heel. Were you dreaming?

“Hey, are you crying? I forbid you from crying. Your mascara is going to smear. Stop touching your face,” Vil scolded, running to your side, whipping out a handkerchief to pat your tears dry.

He had no confetti on his person. He was pristine.

“Vil… it’s wonderful. Thank you. I’m so glad you didn’t forget.”

“How could I forget? You must give me more credit, Fairest. I may not have the time to be with you every day, but I’m not cruel as to forgot your birthday,” he huffed, pulling you into a hug.

He was right. He could have never forgotten. Was he mad that you doubted him? He didn’t seem irritated. It wasn’t like him to forget such an important date. You’ll give him credit for being a good actor; he fooled you well. He ignored you for almost two weeks. Whenever you brought up your birthday, he brushed over it and changed the subject. You were on edge the entire time. A weight was lifted off your chest.

“I know you’re not one for parties, but I figured I’d go all out for a small group of people you are comfortable with. You’re seventeen now. Rejoice, my dear.”

You pecked his lips, “This is fine. Thank you so much.”

Snap!

“Cute~ Hashtag: Vil-Did-Not-Forget. Hashtag: (y/n)’s-Growth Record. Hashtag: (y/n)-And-Vil-Forever. Hashtag: Birthday. And posted! Happy birthday, (y/n)-chan~”

“Ah. Thank you, Cay-kun.”

“Did you have to do that?” your lover asked, hands on his hip.

“It’s fine, Vil.”

He nodded. You hoped he wouldn’t bicker too much with Leona as the upperclassman was lounging a bit too close to the throne for [Vil’s] comfort. You sighed as he went to the refreshments table.

“You’ve grown for much,” Cater said with crocodile tears, hugging you.

“I’m still the same height.”

“I didn’t mean that, silly.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Nothing, much. You just look happier. Anyways, here’s your present. Continue to blossom, m’kay?”

You took the gift: “Alright?”

“Cater. Mind your manners. You’re being rude. According to the–,” a voice called.

“I don’t think I am, right, (y/n)? Tell Riddle for me~” he pouted.

His eyes widened as the complexion of Heartslabyul’s prefect grew as red as his hair. 

“Hey now. Let’s not fight,” Trey, the vice prefect, hurried over to pat Riddle’s back.

You sighed, “There’s nothing to worry about, Riddle.”

You could have sworn you saw a vein deflate on his forehead as he mumbled something about the rules. He handed you a bouquet of roses.

“Happy birthday, (y/n).”

“Let’s take a Heartslabyul selfie to celebrate! Say cheese!”

No one said cheese. The flash flickered before your eyes as you held the flowers close to your nose. Riddle’s eyebrows were scrunched together. He was socially awkward in that aspect.

“Hashtag: Heartsla…”

Cater’s words faded. Since when have you been comfortable taking pictures with him. It was nice. You felt pretty today. Was it because Vil dolled you up to a T? You hugged the bouquet closer to your chest as you walked towards the refreshments table.

“Oi. Herbivore. Watch the tail,” an all too familiar voice groaned.

“Good afternoon to you too, Leona.”

“Here’s your present.”

He handed you a small box and he waved you goodbye. Was he not going to stay? You watched his back get smaller and smaller as he walked out of the Pomefiore Lounge. He wasn’t big on parties either. That was alright.

You continued the refreshments, stopping occasionally and accumulating presents here and there, engaging in idle chatter. Soon, your arms were full of trinkets and parcels. You panted as you set the gifts onto a spare table.

“You’re quite the attraction,” Vil said, sipping on a glass of apple cider.

“I don’t really think I’m–”

“Own it for a day, will you? You look absolutely divine.”

“Thank you, Vil.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “My pleasure, Fairest.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland oneshot #twst oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #fave #self indulgence #happy birthday to meeee

[neerasrealm]

A Date

Zalgo x Reader. This was written. As a birthday gift. To myself. I’m old now and I deserve at least one self indulgent self insert fic and by god this is the one. Please enjoy.

Word count: 1765

‘’Fucking hell…’’ 

Stood up again. You really thought it’d be different this time. The guy seemed so nice, ‘not like other guys’. You couldn’t be more wrong. You’d agreed to meet at the Olive Garden at five. It’s now six-thirty, and you’re half heartedly chewing on mozzarella sticks while scrolling through Tumblr. An amazingly romantic evening with just yourself. Getting your outfit dry cleaned was a waste of money.

‘’Excuse me,’’ you look up from your phone at the sound of a deep, smooth voice. Your eyes widen. Standing in front of you is a tall, muscular man. Dressed in a button-up shirt and waistcoat. His skin is a copper-brown colour, and his fluffy hair is a dark brown colour, tipped with red. Like flames. Your eyes run up his arms, both tattooed. One with spiraling flames and the other with blue ink. The most alluring thing however, is his eyes. A bright gold colour. Under his right eye are three freckles, neatly dotted like they were painted on there. ‘’Are you...waiting on someone?’’

You sigh, looking away from the handsome stranger and grabbing another mozzy stick. ‘’No.’’ you reply simply. A grin curls up his face.

‘’May I sit here then?’’ he asks. Your eyes shoot up, surprised and confused as he gestures to the seat across from you. You freeze for a moment. You don’t particularly want to talk to anyone right now, you’d much rather finish your meal and go home to sulk in your pyjamas but...damn this man is a ten. Not even that, a solid twelve! 

‘’Uh- sure. Yeah.’’ you reply quickly. As he slides into the seat across from you you try to fix your hair and wipe sauce and grease off your face. You look over at him and smile for a second before looking down again. Was that weird? Probably. You’re weirding him out. You’re gonna drive away another good guy. What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just-

‘’So what’s your name, if I may ask?’’ he purrs. His voice is like...tar. Warm, smooth tar that spills down and into your ears...very romantic. Your similes rival that of Shakespeare’s. Clearly. 

You stare at his face for another extra moment. He looks so laid back and, and his lips are curled up into a small smile as he rests his face in his palm. ‘’y/n.’’ you answer. He smiles wider.

‘’y/n…’’ he rolls the name around on his tongue. ‘’Unusual. I like it.’’ he grins across at you and you blush. He chuckles. ‘’I hope this doesn’t come off as rude but…’’ he traces a finger on the table, drawing patterns on the wood. ‘’I saw you sitting alone and couldn’t help but think ‘who would leave a pretty thing like that alone’?’’ he looks up at you. ‘’So of course...I had to come over and say hello. I’ve always been impulsive. Drove my parents crazy.’’ he chuckles again, and you can’t help but laugh in reply.

‘’Me? Really?’’ you tilt your head. Now he’s just trying to sweet talk you, isn’t he?

He nods. ‘’It’s true,’’ he looks you over for a moment before smiling. ‘’Maybe it’s the outfit.’’

Oh. Oh, getting that thing dry cleaned was not a mistake. You smile. ‘’Maybe…’’ you murmur before smirking. ‘’You’re not too bad yourself.’’ you add. He laughs. It’s a nice noise. Hearty, and light. He radiates warmth. Everything from his kind gaze, to the way he smiles across at you as he cups his face in his hands. 

He tilts his head, looking you over. ‘’Why are you alone anyhow? You’re all dressed up, but here you are eating mozzarella sticks all alone…’’ he murmurs before reaching over and stealing a mozzarella stick. If it were anyone else this man would be dead by now, but he’s way out of your league so you legally can’t murder him in cold blood.

‘’Well…’’ you glance aside. ‘’I got stood up. I had a date but...y’know…’’

He frowns, looking sad. ‘’Really?’’ he tilts his head. ‘’Well...that’s ironic. The same thing happened to me…’’ he sighs and looks aside. ‘’Can’t find a decent guy nowadays, can you?’’

You laugh a bit, glancing aside and blushing some more. He got stood up too? Damn...it must be your lucky day! ‘’Heheh...yeah…’’ this is good! He must be free too! Maybe you guys could-

‘’Hey,’’ his voice interrupts your thoughts. He smiles across at you, palms flat on the table. ‘’Maybe we could spend our evenings together? You see I...well, me and my date, we made plans to go to the local museum. I know that sounds boring- both of us really enjoy history and astronomy you see- but now...I just have two tickets going to waste.’’ he tilts his head. ‘’Maybe I could take you? And if it’s boring...I know a nice bakery we could visit after. I’ll pay, as condolence for the even worse evening.’’ he grins playfully and you find yourself giggling.

‘’Geez- a museum?’’ doesn’t really sound like your ideal date but...this guy is enchanting. And if this is what you have to do to get his number then it’s worth it. ‘’Well...it’s not like I have anything else to do-’’ 

‘’Great!’’ he lightly hits the table and grins brightly. You jump a bit in surprise. He reclines back, calm as ever before turning and looking to the side. He whistles and a waiter from across the restaurant perks their head up. How did they even hear that-? No matter. You reach into your bag to grab your money.

‘’Ah-ah.’’ he interrupts you. You look up and see he’s holding a credit card. ‘’I’ll pay, I insist.’’

You frown. ‘’You don’t have to do that- honestly I don’t mind.’’

‘’Sweetheart, I’m wearing designer clothing right now.’’ he replies with a deadpan look. ‘’I can afford to buy a pretty person some Olive Garden.’’ 

You blink in surprise. ‘’O-oh.’’ you glance down, embarrassed, and put your money back in your bag. ‘’Okay.’’ you didn’t realise he was rich. Does he think you’re rich too? Oh shit...what if this is just him trying to find someone to fit his evening with? Is he actually interested in somebody like you?

‘’Ready to go, cutie?’’ his voice snatches you out of your thoughts. You look over at him. He’s standing up, smiling at you expectantly. You blush and stand up, grabbing your things. You smile at him nervously as he holds out his hand. You hesitate for a second before he reaches over and takes your hand in his. Specifically the hand covered in blue ink.

He’s enchanting. There’s something about this man, the way his smile stretches across his entire face, the way his eyes shine with such a warmth you can practically feel it. His voice is so soft and soothing, it’s like you’re melting into him. The night air should be too cold, but he’s holding your hand and he feels warm. As you look over him, you notice something. ‘’Are your tattoos glowing?’’ 

He looks up in surprise, stopping mid-sentence. You feel bad for interrupting him, but his smile reassures you. ‘’Oh! Yes,’’ he chuckles and holds out his arm, the one decorated with swirling flames. ‘’It’s glow in the dark ink!’’

You arch a brow. ‘’That’s a thing?’’

‘’Oh, yes! Very experimental- not to mention expensive, but it looks cool doesn’t it?’’ he chuckles and drops his arm, reaching into his pocket. He pulls two tickets from his pocket and smiles before tugging your hand. He pulls you into the museum. The last time you were in here...well you must’ve been just a kid. He smiles at you and tugs you again. ‘’Come on! They have a collection on bronze and iron age metalwork- it’s very interesting- ooh! And the egyptian exhibit.’’ he giggles, like a giddy child. You smile a bit. None of that sounds as interesting as he makes it sound, but he’s so enjoyable to be around, you smile and follow after him enthusiastically. 

‘’Ancient egyptians of both sexes strived for beauty, did you know that?’’ his arm is around your waist now as you gaze at the exhibit. ‘’But their beauty was practical...the application of kohl around the eyes, combined with moisture from the eye made a protection from the sun’s glare...wigs reduced the risk of lice,’’ his voice is soft, low. You melt against him. ‘’They even had tattoos...they were geniuses. Architects, scientists, lovers, families…’’ 

‘’You speak like you knew them.’’ you laugh. He chuckles and squeezes you. 

‘’Maybe I did.’’ he feels warm and soft. ‘’Maybe I was a pharaoh, in a past life.’’

‘’And what was I?’’ you grin up at him. He gives you a sly smile.

‘’My personal slave.’’

You blush and smack at him, gawking in false shock. ‘’You dog!’’ you giggle. He laughs and grabs you by the hips, smiling down at you. His grin is intoxicating. His teeth are sharp, you notice. Surgery? He seems like the type to get that done. He links his arm with yours and pulls you along, smiling at you. You feel obligated to follow him into the dark room he leads you to. You look around. The walls are pitch black, until the curved ceiling suddenly lights up into a galaxy. You gasp.

‘’Do you like it?’’ he asks softly, as if he created the projection just for you. You step away from his side and smile up at the ceiling. ‘’The stars are enchanting...I adore them.’’ he smiles warmly as he speaks. ‘’But they’re so far away. Humans could never hope to see one up close, never touch one with their own two hands…’’ he walks past you. The ceiling casts a blue glow on him, and he seems to shimmer in the light. Ethereal, like he isn’t quite real. He snaps his fingers and the ceiling suddenly changes, showing the sun. He’s lit up in fiery red that flickers over him. ‘’It’s sad, isn’t it? How we can’t ever reach the things we wish so desperately to touch…’’ you step toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your hand slides down and intertwines with his blue fingers. He looks down at you. He looks so...sad. He turns to you and cups your face. 

‘’But you can reach me.’’ you say with a small smile. He sighs, his lips turning up.

‘’I suppose I can…’’ he murmurs as he leans in and kisses you softly.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta x reader #zalgo #zalgo creepypasta #zalgo x reader #writing #my writing

[bondsmagii]

This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will. 

This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.

So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.

Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.

I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.

I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.

My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.

I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.

I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.

I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.

It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.

Hello?

Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—

I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.

I thought you wanted to know?

I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.

Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?

I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.

I thought you wanted to know?

Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.

I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.

I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?

And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?

Well. Now I do.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #can you tell i've been listening to tma lately? #anyway VERY tempted to record this seems i'm a decent voice impressionist and i have the right accent for the statement lmao

[xelles-archive]

Her Cure

➥ Peter Maximoff x Self-insert

➥ Genre: Fluff with a bit of venting

➥ Summary: Peter comes to his girlfriend's house, but wasn't expecting to see her with a down mood.

➥ Word Count: 3.3k

➥ Warnings: Don't read if you don't like sharing Peter as an f/o. This is super, SUPER self-indulgent, so please don't send any hate.

➥ A/N: I'll be using she/her pronouns in this story because I still haven't gotten used to writing myself as 'they' in stories. Also, Peter's little sister's name isn't confirmed. It's just a headcanon of mine that her name is Lorna.

➥ Tags: @nougatships @just-sinag @selfshipping-port

The ringing from the alarm clock on Peter's desk was the very first thing that welcomed him into this new day, but the repeating, annoying sound was immediately dismissed when he slammed his hand on it. He nearly punched down the whole thing due to his pressure. He groggily sat up on his bed and harshly rubbed his eye. "Agh!" He groaned, getting weird glitches in his vision. That didn't stop Peter from doing his routine though, as it quickly disappeared, too.

He went to his closet and changed from his pajamas to his casual wear. The classic black band t-shirt and silver leather jacket. He dashed upstairs once, then came back to his room and grabbed a comb to brush his hair. "Hell yeah, you're looking great." He clicked his tongue and pointed finger guns at himself in the mirror. He finally went upstairs, for real this time.

He was met with his mother cooking breakfast, and the smell of eggs and bacon rose to Peter's nostrils, making him inhale the precious scent. It was a classic breakfast, and he can't wait to eat it.

Finally, after a minute or so, Magda noticed his presence. "Oh, Peter! I didn't notice you there." She looked behind to give her son a bright smile, which he nicely reflected back. "Oh, well, ya know. Just doin' things as fast as I can." Peter shrugged his shoulders, as the sarcasm in his line of voice made the woman giggle. The wide smile stuck on her face as she went back to cooking. "It's almost finished. Maybe you could wake up your sister for the meantime."

Peter nodded in response, and even though his mom wasn't looking, she knew he already obeyed what she said. It's one of the good sides to his mutation.

Not even a minute has passed, and the young boy was already back to his previous spot. The mother looked at him in confusion and opened her mouth to ask, but Peter already knew – almost like predicting it — what she was supposed to say. "She's dressing up. Don't worry."

She smiled again, and expected nothing more or less of her son. When was there a time without Peter ever lightening up the mood? She doesn't remember at least one moment when it felt boring in the house, well, probably except before Peter came.

But none of that matters, as they're all together now.

Soon enough, the youngest member of the family came down. "Hey there, lil sis." Peter greeted his younger sibling, who seemed to be still sleepy. She yawned quite loudly and nearly fell off when she climbed up on the chair. Even with the lack of response, the cute little scene that occurred in front of him made Peter smile. "Still sleepy, huh?" He mocked.

Lorna merely hummed and nodded her head with her eyes still fluttering open. Their mother turned around with two plates in her hand, scooting them over to where Peter and Lorna were sitting. Both of them childishly eyed the well-done dish, their mouths watering in hunger. "Well then, let's dig in." The woman clasped her hands together, and the small family grabbed their respective utensils to start eating.

In just a blink of an eye, Peter was munching down on the food. Maybe too fast. Not even having a single bite, Magda placed down her spoon on the plate. "Peter, slow down." She remarked, quite calmly in fact. As a mother, she had the right to be concerned of her children's intentions.

"Hm?" Peter looked up from his plate, and when he saw the disapproving look on his mother's face, he gulped down the food as hard as he can. "Sorry." He raised his hand as a sign of apology.

A gentle smile replaced the frown on her face. "What's with the rush? Do you have a date?"

Lorna nearly choked on her food as soon as their mother ended her statement. She placed down her utensils and looked over to his older brother with excited eyes. "You're going out with Xelle again?!"

"Whaaaaat?" Peter scoffed. "Noooo." He waved his hand, rolling his eyes as he did so. "I'm just gonna visit her house, that's all." He was supposedly going to continue eating, but Lorna still had more questions. This little girl was always excited when it comes to Peter's girlfriend.

"But it's still considered a date, right?" She raised her eyebrows, awaiting for her older brother's response. Peter opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again with a cocked brow. "I guess? I mean, we're still going out, so yeah, maybe it's considered a date." He just shrugged it off as he grabbed his glass of water to drink.

Lorna squealed, shaking her arms in excitement, and even rocking her legs back and forth under the table. "Ooooh man! I can't wait to have my sister-in-law!"

Even one single word could cause everything to crumble. Their mother had been listening to their conversations at the start, but she wasn't expecting to hear such words from her daughter. Her eyes widened, while Peter spat out the water he was drinking. Magda quickly scolded him for making a mess in front of them. But then, it's gone in an instant. The table looked clean again.

The mother anxiously looked over to her daughter, giving her an uncertain smile. "Maybe that's too early for your brother, dear."

Tilting her head in confusion, she asked another question. Oh, how different the circumstances will be if Xelle was here right now. She could have hushed the young girl, at least. "Why? Is he not old enough to marry her?"

"Okay, Lorna, I'm only twenty years old." Peter suddenly intruded in the conversation as he wiped the excess liquid on his face. "Plus, I still got college to catch up to. I don't wanna rush things."

Their mother laughed at him. "That's funny coming from you." It took a while for Lorna to register the joke, but even Peter's humor was fast enough for him to understand. He didn't even realize he was making a joke, yet he still laughed along. "Hah, real funny, Mom. Anyway, I gotta go." He took one last bite from his food before dashing off, probably to Xelle's place.

Neither of the two females were able to say something before he left. Magda's eyes brought themselves to check Peter's plate, and she was not happy to see it. She frowned, and even if she knew he wouldn't hear her, she shouted out his name.

He suddenly appeared in the dining room again. "Sorry. Again." He gave his mother an apologetic smile as he grabbed his plate and washed it really quickly. He made sure he got to say goodbye properly this time.

Magda released a sigh. "I sure do hope I'll get a daughter-in-law, too."

The young girl smiled widely at her mother. "So you agree with me!"

Arriving in his girlfriend's place, Peter was refreshed to see the familiar green plants in her tiny little garden. With all the flowers and succulents, her house looked adorable. Thank heavens her father allowed her to live alone. He's been here multiple times already, mainly for checking up on her and taking her out on dates, but when he saw somebody on her doorstep, he stopped in his tracks.

It looked like a woman. Well, at least to Peter. She had long brownish hair and wore fancy clothing, she even had a purse dangling from her arm. There stood Xelle in the doorway, a clear frown on her face. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in worry as he watched this lady talk to his girlfriend. He couldn't hear what they were saying from this distance, so he just stood there. Besides, it was only a few steps away.

A few minutes had passed, and the lady finally turned around and entered her car, which was parked just outside. Peter pretended to walk as a passerby when the car zoomed past him. He looked behind him to check the plate number.

Xelle didn't even bother to look after that lecture from her stepmother. She ran her hand over her hair, tugging on it out of anger, as a long, sad sigh escaped from her lips. She had been fighting off her tears while she listened to those harsh words. She always thought of herself as a crybaby, and now that she finally has some time alone, she closed the door.

"Ow."

Or maybe not.

The female looked at her door, making an assumption that someone was behind it. She looked down at the ground, catching a glimpse of that silver-colored shoe she always recognized, stuck in between the door frame. She immediately opened the door, and to no surprise, she was faced with her boyfriend.

Peter waved his hand as a cute smile was embedded on his face. He didn't even need to say anything and Xelle already found herself smiling again, even the slightest. "Hi, Peter."

That was highly unusual. She'd usually jump at him for a hug or smile widely at him. The young boy noticed her change of behavior, the smile on his face disappearing. "You okay?" He brought his hand down.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She responded, turning around as she allowed Peter to come inside. He was polite enough to remove his shoes and set it aside before actually coming in. He closed the door and followed Xelle into the kitchen, which was just beside the living room.

Washing dishes, once again. Never the same, never different either. Peter watched her fingers gracefully slip past the smooth plates and place them down on a dryer. It was a weird thing for him to observe, but he loved every little thing about her. He can't resist himself.

Xelle was finally done with the dishes, dabbing a towel on her hands to get rid of the wetness, when Peter suddenly appeared beside her. He leaned onto the counter as he smiled at her. "So who was that lady earlier?"

Bringing her gaze to him, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What lady?" She asked as she hung the towel on the fridge's handle. "The lady you were talking to in the doorway." Peter responded, tilting his head while he awaited for her answer.

Xelle narrowed her eyes at him. "You were eavesdropping on us?" She asked in disbelief. The male in front of her widened his eyes and awkwardly laughed. "What? No. I just saw you talking with her." He stood up straight, placing a firm hand on her waist and bringing her over to him. Their bodies ended up colliding each other as their eyes focused on the ones in front of them. "You know I wouldn't lie to you." He pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She smiled at him, genuinely this time. "I know." As she thought the heavy burden in her chest was finally going to disappear, it just came back again. The corners of her lips deepened themselves into a frown, and to prevent Peter from seeing it, she pushed herself away from him. "But you don't need to worry about her. She's just my stepmother." She walked away into the living room.

Peter was, at first, confused why she suddenly distanced herself like that. The biggest thing that confused him was the stepmother. "Wait, stepmother? You have a stepmom?" He questioned as he followed her path.

"Yeah," she plopped down on the couch, "she and Papa didn't last long, though." Grabbing the remote control, she turned on the television. Her arm was laid out on the couch's backrest while her other one faced the squarish electronic. "But like I said, you don't need to worry about her." A few static sounds were brought to life until she stopped to one channel.

Even if she says that, of course he's still going to worry. Xelle was acting strange and he was not liking it. He pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head and stepping towards the couch. "Do you really think," he started as he sat beside Xelle, "I would believe that when you have that look on your face?"

Xelle brought her gaze to him and slightly tilted her head. "What do you mean?" In a flash, the remote control in her hand was gone. She looked at the absence of the object for a quick moment before she looked at Peter, who now had the remote in his hand, with wide eyes. "You know what I mean." He turned off the television and set the remote aside.

The short-haired female merely stayed silent and stared at him with uncertainty, this lack of response made Peter cross his arms. "C'moooon. You can't keep hiding things from me." He cooed a bit teasingly.

She knows she can't. He could always tell when something is bothering her, and that's why she still loves him to this very day. It's one of the biggest reasons why she's so happy every time she's with him. She took one deep breath before crawling over to Peter, to which took him by surprise. "Oop-" He yelped as Xelle pushed him down on the couch. She somehow got in between his legs and made herself comfortable to lay on his chest.

The adorable sight that took appearance in front of Peter's eyes made him chuckle out of amusement. He wrapped his arms around her and smirked down at her. "What, we're just gonna cuddle without even telling me what the problem is?"

Xelle giggled in response. As soon as her light laughter died down, her eyes wandered off to somewhere. "It's just…" She started. "Sometimes it's hard having alexithymia."

"Alexi- wha-" Peter narrowed his eyes, but it didn't take him long to realize what she was talking about. "Ohh, right. Alexithemic."

"Alexithymia." She corrected him.

"Right. Yeah."

She couldn't help but to at least smile at his silliness. "I don't know, it's just, it's hard expressing my emotions." The weight on her body — even though nothing was on her — felt heavy, as she found herself sinking deeper into Peter's embrace. "Especially since I don't have the confidence to speak up." Her hands gently hovered his shoulders. "I mean, it's not very severe, but it's, it's still difficult. It causes misunderstandings."

"Your emotions seep out a lot to me, though."

Xelle brought her eyes to look at him. He had that adorable little smile and raised his eyebrows, as if he was trying to prove what she said was wrong. "I could tell that you're sad, and…happy, oh, and…angry?" His statement sounded so unsure, but that somehow still made her laugh.

That's all he wanted to hear, after all.

A tiny chuckle is enough to relieve him that she's doing fine. He doesn't really consider himself a good person to ask for advice, but if Xelle sees him that way, he'll try the best he can.

Peter caressed the top of her head, despite the shortness of her hair, he wanted to get a better look on her face. "I'm kidding. But what makes you say that?" He tried to continue the conversation.

"Well, you saw my stepmother earlier, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She fiddled with her fingers and lightly clasped them together as she tried to find the right words to say. Peter could sense a bit of hesitance from her, but nonetheless, he waited for her to speak. "We kinda got into, uh, we got into an argument because I didn't get to say I'm sorry." Fully clasping her fingers together into a tight hold, her breath hitched for a quick second. "It's, it's one of the things I hate about myself."

Xelle was supposed to bury her face on Peter's chest out of the shame, until she felt sudden movement and had no choice but to look up. "Heeey." Peter pushed himself up with his arms and stared down at her. "Just because you didn't get to do something you want doesn't mean you can hate yourself." He said, receiving an astonished look from his girlfriend.

He didn't know what he truly meant, but he was saying it from the heart. He knew how it felt like to hate yourself for the things you do. He just didn't want to see the sweetest girl he had ever met do it to herself, too.

"I mean," his eyes looked everywhere before quickly bringing themselves back to Xelle, "you were considering the fact that you should apologize to her. That already makes you a good person, right?" He attempted to reach out to her face and caress her cheek with his thumb. "Besides, if you hate yourself, I'm hating myself, too."

Eyes burning up in tears, Xelle found herself melting into Peter's touch. A silent weep escaped from her lips, and as she couldn't bring herself to speak up, she just nodded her head in response. It was so easy for her to tear up, and yet Peter doesn't mind any of that. As soon as he saw her crying, he brought her into a hug. At moments like these, it felt like her alexithymia was gone.

Peter was her cure.

What sounded like sniffs turning into sobs eventually took over the conversation as the couple found comfort just by being in each other's arms. Peter gave her the time to let out her tears, giving her occasional back rubs and gripping onto her like he didn't want to ever let her go. It always hurt him to see her like this.

When her tightened posture finally loosened up, and her breath seemed to slow down, Peter also found himself finally calming down. It almost felt like their heartbeats were synchronized, being so physically close to each other gave them more of a chance to be connected.

Just as Peter opened his mouth to speak, his ears was met with something he never expected to hear on a day like this,

"I love you."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I said I love you, Peter."

Did she really say that? She never voluntarily says 'I love you' to anyone, including Peter himself. Did she just really say 'I love you' to him?

"I- Wow-" He stopped himself mid-sentence as he chortled. Xelle pulled herself away and took a glance at her boyfriend's shocked expression. The corners of her lips brought themselves up to form a smile as she breathed out a laugh. "What, you're not used to it?" She teased.

"Yeah, well," Peter shook his head, "you never say those three words to anyone." He spoke through gritted teeth. Xelle's chest felt lighter as she released another hearty laugh. That laugh of hers that always gets Peter's head in cloud nine. It's something he always treasured, and now that he heard it again, he almost flinched when he felt her hands fondle with his cheeks. "Then consider yourself lucky." She placed a peck on his nose before nuzzling her face in his neck.

Peter was left speechless, his mouth slightly agape, after that unexpected occurrence. That quick nose kiss made his heart skip an extra beat. He was weak for those types of kisses. He doesn't know why, but he always gets flushed and hot when he receives affection from Xelle — let alone her rare, peculiar, wholesome behavior.

He was going to wrap his arms around her, when an idea popped in his head.

"Hey, you know what?"

She hummed in response, staying in position.

Peter grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her away, grinning widely at her.

"I love you too." Using his superspeed to his advantage, he showered her with lots of kisses on her face. To Xelle, it felt like she was being tickled. She laughed out loud as she tried to cover her face from any further kisses, but they still kept coming. Overwhelmed with the amount of love she's getting, she just slammed her hands and managed to catch Peter's face, finally closing in their distance and placing a firm kiss on his lips. It wasn't long enough before he gave in and returned the pleasure to her.

At this moment of time and day, Xelle feels content with everything that involves Peter.

#xelle.content #selfship con 2020 #self ship con 2020 #wooo this will be my first contribution for the con!! #i have more drafts to post so idk maybe look forward to that?? #i plan to give imagine scenarios to y'all so :eyes: #👣 gotta go fast #s/i: kryxelle xavier

[slutsofren]

Churros & Dole Whip

Summary: It takes a lot to get your CEO husband, Kylo Ren, to leave his work and go on a date. Not to mention a date to Disneyland. He loves you very much and begrudgingly agrees since it'll make you happy. Just, don't forget to mention the matching shirt!

Alternatively, I commissioned a self insert art piece of Kylo & myself on a date at Disneyland and wanted a companion fic. Check my tag (Churros and Dole Whip) for the art!

Tags: car blowjobs / smut / fluffy Disneyland shit / sex in Cinderella’s castle

Read on AO3 here!

“Yes, Lord of Utmost Darkness, you will go to Disneyland with me today.”

“Dearest, I’ve already told you time and time again, you can go for the both of us. You know how much I hate the heat and being surrounded by,” he flung his hands around the air, “people!”

“Please, my love, just for one day can we both not be Kylo Ren and his strong and intelligent wife,” you pleaded. Since Kylo moved to Los Angeles to be closer to you for a third of the year, he listened to you whenever it came to the rules of the city. This was your territory as his was New York. You’d never deny his constant need to not just show you off around the bright city lights, but to also show you these places he’s held so dear. Now it’s your turn.

Kylo grumbled something under his breath and you saw his walls finally breaking. He could never resist you for long. Before you knew it, Kylo obliged to wearing the shirt you had already picked out for him. A black shirt sporting “I’m the Prince Charming” across it to match your “I’m the Princess”.

He picked the shirt off the bed where you laid it and looked at the shirt, looked at you, back to the shirt, and one more look at you and rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you so fucking much.”

You gave him as big of a smile as you could muster and crossed the room to drape your arms around his big broad shoulders, “Not nearly as much as I love you.” You kissed his cheek and he turned to face you, circling his arms around your body. You both gave in to a short yet lovingly filled kiss.

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically and you laughed so much your whole body shook. What an absolute baby, you thought. “Come on, get ready, love.” 

Kylo, begrudgingly, got dressed. You had already gotten your shirt on and were on your cell to call a driver. It only took a half hour from your quaint home in the Arts District of Los Angeles, otherwise you’d be complaining like hell with the traffix. You both always grew irritated at the constant construction that seemed never ending on the 5 freeway. 

“Dopheld, dear, will you bring the car around,” you asked sweetly, “Mr. Ren and I are ready for our outing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am, I’m not that old yet,” you whined and threw a pout as you hung up. Dopheld apologized quickly before ending the call, surely he knows you’re only half joking with him.

Kylo finally came around the bed, dressed all handsome in his Prince Charming shirt. When you faced your incredibly indulgent husband, he shrugged and twirled, letting you preview how the shirt fell on his body, kissing his broad shoulders and impeccable chest. You admit you drooled a little in your mind. Who could blame you?

“Come,” you say as you walk around him, giving him a small pat on his plump ass, “Disney awaits.”

Dopheld arrived in your security vehicle, with the kind of work you do, a girl could never be too safe, especially when your husband was who he was-- those were some precious jewels he had on him.

Both you and Kylo dressed down for your day ahead at the theme park, he even sported some black jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. It also helped that his cock looked delicious in them too. Today was going to be a great day with maybe a little bit of teasing. Maybe.

The time it took to get from your apartment in the Arts District to Anaheim took less than an hour, but oh, did his cock truly look appetizing in those jeans!

“Dopheld, dear, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

Your assistant obliged and Kylo lifted a brow towards you, questioning your motives already. Once the blackout separator was raised, you swiveled in your seat to face your dearest.

“Is there something you’d like to say, little one?”

You dramatically fluttered your eyes up at him, a playful grin kissing at the corners of your lips. You had less than an hour until you reached Anaheim but you wanted to make the most of this.

Kylo pushed a stray piece of your hair behind your ear as you unbuckled the seatbelt without saying what you were planning and settled yourself on your knees between his spread legs.

“Oh, it’s going to be one of those dates then,” Kylo said with a hint of humor in his voice. Ever since you both got married, his anger has drastically settled around you, a person who he could be free of his past and let loose around. That isn’t to say he didn’t let his anger get the best of him elsewhere.

You rubbed your greedy hands up and down his thighs, coaxing his raging hard-on. Not once did you feel the need to look anywhere but his eyes. The simultaneous lust and encouragement that he flashed in his expression gave you more of a confidence boost.

You began to kiss up his open thighs, doing your best to not let go from his body and start feeling yourself. Kylo took this as an open invitation to slide down the seat a little more, petting your hair out of your face. The jacket that he brought along was thrown somewhere to the left of you.

By the time your kissing had made it to his covered bulge, you could feel his cock straining against the denim, seeking your touch, your comfort. You looked up from kissing Kylo’s magnificent body and he cocked his eyebrow, “Well don’t stop there, little one, you should always finish what you started.”

“With pleasure,” you whispered as the zipping sound filled the back of your security car. You pulled down this jeans ever so slightly to release Kylo’s cock from it’s cloth cage. You grasped it within your hands and laid ever so gentle kisses up and down his shaft, letting miniscule touches of your tongue reach out to him the closer you got to the tip, that ever so delectable tip that shared the same colour as his lips.

The more you teased him the more he leaked, almost as if it was crying out to you like tears, wanting to be inside of you; that’s all Kylo ever wanted. To be close to you, to hardly ever leave your side.

His hands wrapped themselves around your hair, fingering those soft tendrils. You gave his jean covered thigh one small and gentle kiss as you wrapped your fingers around his length expertly. He always felt warm, sometimes too warm in your hands and mouth, but that was alright, it was like a sign for you. That he’s really here and he’s real.

You held his cock in your left hand as you laid chaste kisses up his thigh all the way up to the tip, the look in Kylo’s eyes growing dark with want. He sucked his bottom lip as you sucked the head of his leaking cock in turn. Kylo pressed his fingers harder against the back of your skull, encouraging you. Your hot tongue curved around him, taking him in, feeling those raised veins you’ve come to love. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises as you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. Your hands working his shaft where your mouth can’t reach. Kylo let out a groan as you swallowed him whole, taking him deep, deep, deeper.

Kylo lets out yet more groans after groans as you moan around his cock, the vibrations of your throat sending his cock wild while being sucked in the confines of your mouth. Your head bobbing and weaving in his hands.

The tip of his fat cock hit you deep in your throat, you loved the feeling of being so full, of his scent, his touches, his hums of pleasure, of his cock burying itself so deep inside you that you could practically touch the stars that flurried in your vision. These were the moments you craved so badly.

With his fingers clutching the back of your skull so tightly, pulling and pushing your head deeper and deeper on his cock, you could feel the tightness of his balls underneath your hands, grasping at the moment before they’ll spill all you wanted to savor on your tongue, painting your throat.

Kylo let out a stifled shout as he released everything his body could offer. His taste far too familiar in your mouth, a whole goddamn buffet behind your lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily as you pulled off him with a pop. You wiped your mouth and he raised you up by your chin to meet him for a kiss, “Good girl. Always pleasing me.” Your lips raised into a proud smirk 

“I’m always here to serve-”

The blackout window lifted just an inch and you heard your beloved assistant clear his throat, “We are pulling up.”

As you adjusted yourself back into the companion seat next to your husband, he helped adjust your hair, pushing it away from your beautiful face, like you were the only star in the entire galaxy, the only star that belonged to him and him alone.

Kylo adjusted his cock back into his jeans and you fixed your lipstick in a small handheld mirror you carried with you, careful to reapply whatever parts were rubbed off from your adventures.

Dopheld was gracious enough to not acknowledge what went on in the backseat, he never did. You paid him well enough and it was because of your marriage that he was able to meet a husband of his own.

Outside of the car windows you watched with excitement as your assistant brought your car around to the executive drop off zone, an area explicit for higher profiled visitors. Afterall, between Kylo and your own empire, you were a multi-billion dollar couple. It was the least the Disney company could offer. You made idle chatter with Kylo as you approached a rather handsome Japanese man.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ren, welcome. My name is Tetsu and I will be your personal guide for the day.”

Kylo turned and looked at you, what the fuck written across his face, you grinned wide and offered a hand to Tetsu, the Cast Member met your gesture and you both shook hands. “Thank you so much Mr. Tetsu, we’re looking forward to today's plans.”

Kylo looked astonished and began to pick up on all the hints- the shirts, the private entrance, this tour guide. You had already set all of this up, knowing that you were going to drag his ass all the way out here. He grabbed your hand in his and you only gave him a mischievous giggle and walked ahead dragging your stoic husband to the happiest place on Earth.

Tetsu led your way through the private gate entrance into the theme park and announced the morning was to be filled with a variety of experiences but for now, to begin your day with the newly refurbished Pirates of the Carribean. You admired tastefully with the additions, wanting nothing more than to read more about women as pirates in history. When your boat came along to the scene of Redd threatening to shoot men at an auction, you elbowed Kylo, “That could be me!”

If it wasn’t inappropriate for him to just kiss you and dip you back, he would have been on it in a heartbeat. Alas, there were eyes watching, and plenty at that too. There were cameras everywhere in that particular ride giving warnings to guests with similar and more explicit ideas.

Next on the agenda was Haunted Mansion, feeling super ecstatic to sing along to the theme and do your best to follow along with the Ghost Host narrator. As your small group entered the foyer of the ride, you felt your body buzz with excitement. 

Using your best impression, you held onto Kylo’s strong arm, "When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls, whenever candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still, that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight ..."

Kylo couldn’t help but laugh, genuinely laugh at the sight of you. You truly were something else and he was so happy to be your husband- that thought alone made him feel like a damned domesticated dog but it was worth it, to be here with you, sharing a laugh. Seeing you smile. He would never trade this lighthearted feeling, especially not after what you two suffered through to get here.

As the stretching portrait room went on, you encouraged Kylo to look to the ceiling as the Ghost Host came to one of your favorite parts, “And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!,” he laughs. “Of course, there’s always my way.” Thunder claps and there, a body is hanging from the rafters, as the room fills with sweet screams. Yours included.

Kylo jumped with your scream, “Babe, what the fuck?” You let out a hearty laugh as your Cast Member guide led you through the portrait hallway, even smiling to himself.

By the end of the ride, Kylo seemed a little more relaxed, just indulging you in these lighthearted pleasures as you recited line after line and sang along to the various songs that played in each “land” throughout the park. 

The precious Cast Member you were with wholeheartedly agreed in each and every one of your whims and desires, it was only your dearest Kylo who was putting on a little bit of a rebellion.

“Please, just wear this,” you pleaded, “I already bought it, you have to wear it now!”

Kylo threw his head back and closed his eyes, “I don’t want to.” He put his hands over his face, trying to cover up the little hint of a smile kissing on the corners of his rosy lips.

In your hands was a helmet, modeled after one of the characters from Disney’s latest contracts. Not only did the black helmet look slightly like a dome but it was also adorned with Mickey Mouse ears.

“Well, if you insist…”

The voice you used was his absolute weakness with you. You used this soft spoken voice of pure innocence to get whatever your heart desired with him. Kylo was a strong man, just as you were a strong woman who would fight with every ounce of your being to get what was yours. Today though, today was different. You weren’t you and Kylo wasn’t him. Today you were both ordinary people and ordinary people at Disneyland… wore silly things on their heads.

“Give it here,” Kylo took the helmet out of your hands and put it on his head. “Happy?”

You put his face in your hands, “If I could marry you right now, I would,” then laid a gentle kiss on one of his freckled cheeks. Just saying that made his heart squeeze, that is the one thing he wants to give you more than anything in the world.

You reached into your bag and pulled out the iridescent Minnie Mouse ears you purchased for yourself and placed them on your head. Now, your fun filled day was really starting.

Mr. Tanaka, your Cast Member guide, led you two through your itinerary while simultaneously filling you both up with churros and dole whips, of sweet mint juleps, as well as a chimichanga… or three. Kylo didn’t have much of a sweet tooth often and never wants to admit it either but he enjoyed these treats with you. When it came to the chimichanga, he openly admitted they were probably one of the best trashiest things he had ever eaten and put in his body which was saying a lot.

Lastly on your day trip, your guide let you two finally experience a treat. Nighttime in one of the newest parts of the Disneyland park- Galaxy’s Edge. This latest edition was constantly packed day and night with tourists from all over the world. With it being one of the largest land expansions since the acquisition of Lucas Films’ Star Wars, it was quickly becoming a main attraction.

“Whoever this Darth Vader guy is, he gets it. I like him,” Kylo mumbled under his breath while browsing the wares in Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities. The shop was filled with Dark Side memorabilia as well as intricate gifts for the fellow enthusiast.

You grasped his hand, “Of course you do, he’s kind of like you. Tall, brooding, dark,” your flirted with your eyes.

“Now, now, what did I say about finishing what you start.”

The two of you wandered Black Spire Outpost, spending a lot of time looking around the Sith side of the area until the fireworks began. The scenery was so beautiful with the most attractive man in the world’s arm around you.

Your time in the park concluding, Mr. Tanaka guided you through the dispersing crowds to your dinner reservation in Liberty Square, the dark and ever secluded Blue Bayou.

Your guide left the two of you as you settled into a secret area for priority guests and that would be the last you’d see Mr. Tanaka for the rest of the evening. There were just too many seductive looks at the other, you both had practically been eye fucking across your dinner table in the Blue Bayou.

Which isn’t to say that his hands didn’t wander under the table. He did more than just drag his long fingers up and down your inner thigh, he teased you and didn’t bother to finish what he started as you ate and left the restaurant.

“What is next on the agenda, Mrs. Ren,” he asked as he held your hand and looked down at you, hints of smiles kissing his dearest lips.

You grasped both of his hands as you continued to walk towards the next part of your evening. “Follow me, Mr. Ren, let’s make some fantasies come true.”

There was a small secret entrance underneath Cinderella’s Castle, the pinnacle of the theme park. Inside was a special room where select guests could spend the night in the castle itself.

Up the winding stairs and into the room, each little detail made to last in your memories forever. The canopy bed was the central part of the room, made to look like it came straight out of the medieval film. Kylo, still holding your hand, whispered, “Can we fuck in here?”

You let out a hearty laugh and pulled him a little forward, walking him towards an opened window for you both to watch the firework show. “We can desecrate this entire room with our blasphemy, Kylo.”

He bent to kiss you deeply, showing you how much love and adoration he has in his heart. Kylo made some shitty choices in his life but you? You were the best decision he could have ever made.

As his tongue slipped past your lips, loud booms went off in the sky. His large hands cupped your face as more and more fireworks went off. This entire moment reeling with love and excitement overwhelmed you.

As the kiss settled, his face lit up blue, white, gold as the fireworks shot off. “I love you, starlight.”

You replied with another chaste kiss to his lips, “As I love you.”

He held you close as the two of you watched the show in the sky but you couldn’t help but stare at him. Kylo truly was the love of your life and you both fought like hell to get to where you were today. It was all worth it. He was worth it.

“What is it, starlight, something on my face?”

Kylo looked down at you and began to brush invisible crumbs away. You said nothing as you rose onto the tips of your toes and gave him a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You’re perfect, Mr. Ren.”

Kylo grabbed your jaw as he kissed you tenderly, your fingers finding themselves in his long black locks. You felt his other hand find and tickle its way under your black shirt, leaving flaming hot traces on your skin.

Both of you separated for a brief moment as you took the other's shirt off, tossing your matching clothing away, softly landing somewhere else before coming back together in harsh clashings of teeth and bruising lips. His lips, gosh, his plush rosy lips. Perfect in every way but never looked better when they were pressed against your skin, leaving sweet succulent trails of lust and love behind.

He could taste the Californian sun on your skin as he kissed every bit he could reach on your cheeks, your forehead, wanting nothing more than to love on you and praise you for the goddess you are. 

“Take me to bed,” you whispered.

You jumped as you felt Kylo’s large hands caress your bottom as you wrapped your lengthy legs around his waist. He let out a groan as you bit his lip, enticing him to be a little rougher with you. You felt him carry you to the bed and drop you, your body bouncing a little off the bed, eliciting a soft laugh from your plump lips, fresh full of your husband’s kisses.

With space between you now you looked at his face, still flashing with the multitude of colors from the sky. Tones of gold, red, each color you wanted to taste off his skin. “I love you,” you whispered. He responded with a sly smirk, hands slowly unbuckling his belt.

His silence was deafening.

You propped your body up on your elbows, an eyebrow cocked as his retrospective cock tastefully filled out his jeans.

His belt whipped around as he stripped it from his belt loops. For a brief moment you thought he would use it until he saw the expression on your face, a devilish mixture of fear and desire. He discarded the belt somewhere off to the side, removing his jeans after. “As much as I would love to give your plump little ass a nice spanking, I’m sure the children outside wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before, dear.”

Kylo stepped forward and grabbed the hem of your pants, pulling them off your legs in a swift motion. He tapped your thigh, “On your knees.”

You did as he asked, not commanded, no. Never. Kylo knew that in the bedroom, you both played your own game of tug-of-war, dominating the other round and round the bedsheets. Just like when you were lovers.

There was a nice gentle breeze as he removed your panties, inching down your legs. You felt his warm tongue licking its war around your center, his teeth even taking little bites around your thighs.

The pillow against your face felt heavenly as you let out a long breathy sigh as Kylo began his adventures in eating you out. You were faced to the window, still watching the light show just on the other side of the glass. Everything felt perfect.

You felt the mixture of his saliva and your own spent dribbling down your thighs, a sign that you were more than ready to feel his thick cock in you. The bed dipped behind you as Kylo pulled your body up, a hand caressing one of your breasts, removing your bra, as the other found its way to your core once again.

He played with you, teased you. Teasing your shoulders and neck with sweet kisses. You reached over and pulled him down, straddling him. “Enough playing, my love.”

Kylo removed his last article of clothing, his boxers, and you hovered over him. He rose, one hand on your hip and the other finding itself tucked beneath your hair at the nape of your neck, he pulled ever so gently, a sigh escaping your lips.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking, biting, kissing, teasing, yes yes yes, oh yes. 

The soft moans escaping your lips only egged him on more and more, not to mention your growing impatience. You reached around behind you and lined his cock up to your entrance, anticipating the stretch.

“Fuck me hard,” Kylo whispered deeply, his voice a low growl. 

You smiled against his mouth, “As you wish.” You both let out a groan against the other's mouth as you lowered your body onto him. Bodies coming together in unity and the utmost love. You began to grind against him, loving each thick inch he had to offer you.

A whine left your lips as Kylo lowered his body back down against the plush comforter. Fireworks still exploding, not even halfway through the show playing outside the beautiful window, matching the show playing in the bedroom. Heavy breaths and sighs filled the room, creating your own symphony, melodic music of your love for the other.

Kylo’s sharp fingers grasped your hips, aiding your bouncing on his cock, leaving tiny crescent moons across the skin as if matching the constellation of stars across his body. Truly the moon to his stars. He furrowed his brows, concentrating hard watching his length disappear in your pussy.

You leaned forward a little, still giving him a show beneath but wanting to touch his soft luscious hair so bad. Your fingers became lost in his locks, caressing his head. In this new position your tits came into his view and he let out a louder moan, “You’re so good to me, little one.”

You responded by flipping your bodies, forcing him to kneel on the bed without losing contact between your cores. A soulful laugh left your lips as he smiled, “Now be good to me, Mr. Ren.”

“As you wish, Mrs. Ren,” he mirrored.

Kylo bent to kiss you, softly and gently. Nothing will ever be more perfect than this.

#asher's writing #churros and dole whip #ceo kylo & mistress au #post divorce kylo #kylo ren #Kylo #kylo ren / you #kylo x y/n #kylo x you #kylo x reader #kylo smut #star wars smut #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren smut

[onyx-void]

Answer 1 through 50

Okay. You called my bluff. (ok not really a bluff, tbh, thank you I appreciate you) Unfortunately, we're having an internet outage where I live, so this is gonna take a while. Also, I have to do this on the webpage, on my phone, cause otherwise I can't have an 'under the cut.'

1. Do you have a crush on anyone?

I suppose you could call it a crush. That's one layer to how I feel. Like an onion :p

2. What's your favorite candy?

Ferror Roche, or however you spell it, Unless it's a holiday, then I Love those chocolate covered marshmallow treats. 

3. Favorite love song? 

I don't really listen to music much, tbh, love songs included. The first one to come to mind is "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. My favorite when I actually think about it has to be "You Are My Sunshine" by Johnny Cash. 

4. What was your first kiss like?

My first kiss. I had my first kiss last year, actually, at the same age I am now, 22. That was my first date, too, such as it was during a pandemic. I hadn't -still haven't, I guess- had many 'first's.' It was awkward, but nice. Chaste, to start. 

5. What was your last kiss like? 

My last kiss, was a goodbye.

6. Sexual/romantic orientation?

I'm reasonably sure I'm straight, heteroromantic. I've questioned all my orientations several times over the years, but nothing seems to fit as well as that does.

7. Do you prefer poems or love letters?

I would be over the moon to get either. I've written a few poems, though they weren't For anyone. I would prefer love letters, though. Poems can wax and wain to the individuals interpretation, but love letters can declare for all to see. 

8. Favorite fanfic trope?

God, I'm Super self-indulgent with my fanfic. I love Mary Sue's, fix-it, time travel, amnesia, self-insert. I want everything to be okay, and for the main character to be able to have at least some idea of what challenges they'll face. 

9. Have you ever been in love?

Have been, still am.

10. Favorite milkshake flavor?

Strawberry. Also favorite ice cream flavor. Chocolate's fine, but strawberry Hagen Daaz is The Best. (tbh it's also a sorta reference to my fav character/anime, Ryougi Shiki from Kara no Kyoukai. It's also just damn good ice cream tho

11. Dinner dates or Brunch dates?

Dinner dates could be a great end to the day, but brunch date leaves the possibility for a full day together to look forward to, so I'll go with that.

12. Favorite flowers?

Sunflowers. Though lilacs are nice too.

13. Favorite perfume/cologne?

I've used a vanilla sugar scent in the past? Don't use or have others use it enough to have a favorite.

14. Favorite candle scent?

I got a pack of incense a while back, a dozen different scents. I think my favorite is called Celestial. It's smells like... lavender and petrichor and stardust, I suppose.

15. What's your ideal first date? 

Ideal, so everything's perfect. Hiking in the woods, a mountainous area, lots of ups and downs and winding paths and beautiful colors and views. We come to a clearing, and a picnic I've prearranged is already set up next to a glittering lake. We sit, and eat, and talk. 

16. What's your favorite love story?

Just the other day, I was finally able to watch The Princess Bride. I absolutely loved it. 

17. What's the most attractive thing a person could wear? 

Easy. One of my shirts, and that's all that's visible. Could they be wearing something underneath it? Maybe. But you can't be sure, unless they show you one way or another  It's a sort of, are they aren't they thing. That said, it works for just about anything where you can't tell if they're wearing short shorts or something, but it works best if it's something more casual than a dress, like a oversized hoodie or shirt. 

18. Chocolate, vanilla, or red velvet?

Chocolate. Vanillas alright, red velvets gross.

19. Snow, rain, or sun? 

God, we just got snow here that Actually Lasted All Day. That's a miracle tbh. I absolutely love it. 

20. Sweetest romantic memory?

We were swinging at the local park, just talking. And I looked over, and the sun was shining through the trees onto the face of an angel. I could have spent eternity in that moment.

21. Favorite dating sim? (And favorite character?)

The only dating sims I know are yandere dating sim, and hautiful boyfriend. Favorite character in general is Ryougi Shiki

22. Fictional crushes?

...Ryougi Shiki...

23. What's your dream wedding like?

It's a small affair, outside, in our backyard on our plant of land, amongst the orchards and vegetable gardens. There's a living arch made of roses I've been growing in secret in preparation, and the bride's bouquet is made from cuttings we took on the spot. The sun is shining, everyone's full of joy, and our love is sure. 

24. What makes you blush?

Sincere expressions of love, or even just Being Known. If you say you care for me I Will Melt and that is a Threat.

25. Do you believe in love at first sight? 

I have to. I can't disregard my own experiences. That said, it's important to say that love is also something you work towards, together, day in and day out. It's not always hard work, it might not even seem like work, but it's an active thing. 

26. Do you believe in soulmates?

I think there are several people you can meet over the course of your life you can call a soulmate. 

27. Denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets?

Leather jackets cause I live in Texas. Otherwise, bomber jackets.

28. What's your sign?

Taurus. Lmk if you want my complete chart from that star app.

29. Are you single?

Unfortunately.

30. Do you prefer to charm, or be charmed?

I think I'm quite charming, I'd definitely say I'm in touch with people, though my execution probably leaves something to be desired. That said, I Love to be charmed. Tell me you like me, tell me I'm wanted. Hell yeah.

31. Guitar or piano?

Piano. Love the classics. I was actually looking at how much pan flutes cost just the other day. 

32. Favorite romcom? (Or any romantic movie?)

Once again going with The Princess Bride here.

33. Do you fall in love easily?

Far too easily, I'm afraid. Show your interest in me, and you'll catch mine in you. Doesn't happen very often, though. And if it's just something like a dating profile, I'm far pickier. 

34. Valentine's decorations, yay or nay?

If it's something personal, absolutely. As long as it has meaning, it's worth it. Even if the holiday itself is just to sell cards. 

35. Would you like to propose, or be proposed to? What's your dream proposal?

I would propose, after it's been made mutually clear and discussed we're both up for it. As a kid I dreamed about proposing on one of those boat rides under Niagara Falls. Now, I think it'd be during a hike, on an overlooking cliff, basically like my ideal first date, actually. That, or somewhere personal to the two of us. 

36. Cloud gazing or star gazing?

Star gazing, definitely. Out under the stars, looking up and sneaking glances at each other. Telling stories and making up constellations. What's not to love?

37. Do you like to dance?

Oooh, no. I've never danced, not really the social dancing type. Never really took the opportunity too.

38. What's your OTP?

....Ryougi Shiki and Mikiya Kokuto

39. Kittens or puppies?

You're gonna make me CHOOSE?! ...puppies, because they're more lively and willing to interact with me, generally speaking. 

40. Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?

Hot chocolate. Never got into coffee, I want to like hot tea, but eh. Iced tea is good tho y'all. 

41. Favorite soda?

God as a kid I Devoured grape Crush soda. Like. 24 cans a week. Mainly drink juice nowadays. Or choccy milk

42. Do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically on the sofa?

Window, definitely. Light as well have a view if I've gotta be dramatic, right?

43. Favorite ABBA song?

"Take a Chance on Me" followed shortly by "Dancing Queen"

44. Fuck/Marry/Kill?

You didn't name anyone, so... Fuck Lauren German (I've been watching Lucifer) Marry the one I love, and kill, idk, Trump?

45. Favorite pajamas?

For myself? They're fleece, I think. Usually I just sleep in my boxers tho. For my theoretical partner? How about my boxers ;)

46. Favorite liquor?

I've never had any alcohol, and I don't really intend to.

47. Do you think about love alot?

Every day. It's what drives me.

48. A walk in the park or a walk on the beach?

Walk in the park. More cover ;)

49. Hand kisses or nose kisses?

How about a hand kiss going up the arm, slowly, sensually, all the way up the arm, to the shoulder, taking a stop on the side of the neck, and right before it gets to the lips... Nose kisses.

50. What's your dreamhouse?

It's in a mountainous area. On at least 5 acres. Plenty of woods with trails in them, bordering a national park. On my land, there's an orchard of fruit trees, and greenhouses with herbs and vegetables. The house itself is actually japanese inspired. There's an outdoor garden you can access after coming through the entrance. The bedroom door is a sliding one, through a shortened circular opening. The whole thing gives off a cozy feeling. The love of my life has made their presence known in every room of the house.

#ask me stuff #ask me more questions ill tell you no lies #geez that took forever #thank you tho #i actuslly do appreciate it #i like being wanted #even if its just an anon wanting to know more about me #or even if you really Were just calling my buff #bluff #feel free to message me btw #anon #or anyone else #if you want clarification #or if you want to actually name someone for the FMK

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Sixteen

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 16: Insecure

Chapter Summary: It’s not a date. It’s not. Two out of three people agree.

The third person thinks the first two are morons.

Chapter Word Count: 6340

Chapter Warnings: Insecurity, pining, self-deprecation

A/N: Poor Sam. Also, sorry; I had way too much fun with this chapter. Me every step of the way now: is this too much self-indulgence? Yes, yes it is. [Tosses it right in]. So just a heads-up, there’s a little thing at the end of the chapter that takes us out of the main POV, because it was fun to write. I just love [fist clench] idiots. So much.

      I got dressed up, I got dressed down. I even put my pajamas back on and got into bed. Only to slink out of it five minutes later, grumbling.

I kept up the grousing as I dressed in a comfortable outfit, grumbled as I trudged out of the house, and kept quietly complaining all the way as I went to meet Sam and Steve for dinner. When I was on the platform waiting for the train I actually got a little self-conscious, but that went away fast– I wasn’t the only one talking to myself, so I kept it up in effort to get all my grumpiness out of the way.

It actually kind of worked. I started out as a goblin hunched over in a big jacket cursing to myself, and I ended as a…well, still a goblin trying to curl up in my jacket, but it was more because it was cold and less of wanting to roly-poly my way home. I actually felt better. Hungry, even, although when I got close enough to see the restaurant sign my stomach did a flip.

I tried to peer in through the windows but it was pretty full and I couldn’t see much of anything, so I pulled out my phone to check the time. I was a little early, and I fired off a quick text to both Steve and Sam.

Me: Are you guys here or should I put my name for a table? Sam: Almost there. Don’t worry, we’ve got reservations

That was nice. There were enough people that the line to wait spilled outside, and I hoped that might work in our favor as far as Steve going unnoticed went. But, for the moment, I was a weird woman alone in a crowd of people waiting for tables, and bundled up fairly unfashionably by comparison to boot. Thankfully the people that made me the most self-conscious seemed to be overflow waiting at the bar next door, but I was still…

“Hey.”

Steve’s voice was gentle despite the noise of a busy sidewalk and I turned, already smiling as my stomach did something that made me wonder if I might be sick. Except I realized– no, fucking butterflies? Seriously? Maybe if I ate enough I could crush them under the weight because that was just fucking embarrassing.

“Hey,” I said and opened my arms to meet his hug, and I did not embarrass myself, thank god. When I hugged Sam I even tried to linger for a few seconds more. If I got my way, Steve would never suspect a thing while I worked my way out of these feelings.

“Good to see you too,” Sam said, smiling like he was amused. “Steve told me you were getting better at hugging, but I didn’t think you’d be that enthusiastic.”

I shrugged. “It’s easy to be ‘enthusiastic’ when it’s cold.”

“Well, let’s get you warmed up,” Steve said and with one hand opened the door, while the other was flat against my back. I lost control of my tongue then– not in the sense that I started saying a bunch of stupid shit (thank god) but I was, yes, warm, too warm, what the hell was I supposed to say to that, even.

“What a gentleman,” I finally said when we got our table and I grabbed the chair before Steve could, because gentleman or not, I had lines.

Steve, who never met a boundary he didn’t like to poke at, smiled deviously. To his credit though he backed off and I took off my coat and surveyed the restaurant to give myself a little extra time. I was just out with friends, with two friends, and I was glad Sam was there because I didn’t think I would have been able to be out, with Steve, just the two of us.

Unfortunately as I looked around I spied a familiar face. K was sitting at a table with a large group of friends, including a handful of people from work, and she was staring in my general direction. Our general direction. Shit. I could probably guess what– or rather, who– she was focused on. She noticed me looking so she smiled and waved. I smiled and waved back, and quickly sat down.

“A friend?” Steve asked.

“Co-worker,” I said.

“Ah,” Sam said and thanked the waitress as she filled our water cups on her way. “Sorry; I thought she was staring at Steve.”

“So did I,” Steve admitted bashfully. He looked so cute it almost distracted me from the inevitable awkward conversation to come.

“She probably was,” I said and gave him an apologetic smile. “She’s…a fan. But she’s really nice? Overly friendly, maybe, but she seems like a really good person.”

“Okay,” Steve said as he flipped open his menu. “If she comes over I’ll behave.”

I shared a look with Sam, who looked as unconvinced as I felt.

“Stop it,” Steve said, buried in his menu.

“Shut up; you’ve got no room to talk,” Sam said and opened his own menu, so I did the same. He glanced at me though and added, “If he doesn’t behave, I’ve got a story to share with you. Like all great stories, it involves super glue.”

Steve dropped his menu and looked as betrayed as if Sam had just cut off his hand and told him he was his father. “Sam!” he hissed.

Tantalizing. “Is this story worth me having to find a new job?”

Sam seemed to consider that. “Hm,” he said. “Just might be.”

I patted Steve’s arm. “Never mind– go ahead and be yourself.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled and I burst out laughing.

K made her approach then and Steve, wisely, shut his face while she and I greeted each other. I didn’t do too terribly, but I was mostly just reacting to her small talk and I did not miss her eyes darting every other second to Sam and Steve. Neither did they, because Sam was biting his fist trying not to laugh and Steve was ‘helping’ with half-hearted harsh looks and a badly suppressed smile himself. I decided to put us all out of our misery.

“I’m just out for dinner with friends,” I said to her question and gestured at the other two-thirds of the table. “K, this is Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Sam, Steve, this is my co-worker, K.”

She gave them her full name as she shook their hands. While she tried to calmly fangirl, I tried to focus on other things– where the waitress was (busy), if any of her other friends were watching (not really), if anyone else noticed (no)– but I kept getting drawn back to watching them. K was naturally magnetic and Steve and Sam looked genuinely charmed and happy to be talking with her.

She said something that made Sam laugh and when she smiled I was struck by how pretty she was. She was a bigger lady but still smaller than me and shaped in all the ways people liked. Her makeup was bold and looked good on her, and her hair was so perfect it made me touch my own head as I noticed all the things I lacked.

“Well, I’ll leave you to eat in peace,” she said and gave a flirty little wink as she stood up straight. “It was nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise,” Sam said and he and Steve and K all said their goodbyes and shook hands.

K then turned to me, as close to beaming as I had ever seen a human smile be. “I’m sorry I crashed your hangout,” she said. “But thank you.”

Her effusiveness took me aback and I regretted not actually listening to their conversation. Did she expect me to know why? Shit; I hoped it wouldn’t come up again. “Of course,” I said. “It was nice to see you.”

She closed her mouth but her smile was still holding back a lot of excitement, and then she surprised me with a quick hug before bouncing back to her friends, her very cute and flattering dress flowing behind her.

I smoothed down my shirt and resisted the urge to pluck a stray thread. “Thanks,” I said to them.

“She really is nice,” Steve said. “Are you okay?”

I wanted to joke, ask if they would rather have K to hang out with, but it felt too real, too close, and I knew it would come out wrong. And Sam and Steve looked happy and I wanted so badly to not bring them down, I knew I had to try. ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’ and all. “I am,” I said as earnestly as I could. Steve’s smile bloomed and I wasn’t sure if coming out with them was the best idea or the worst. I braced myself to think that a lot over the night. “The portions look pretty big,” I said and skimmed the menu. “But it all looks so good.”

“It does,” Steve said. “Do you want to share plates?”

Tempting. “Nah,” I said, eyeing something in particular. “This looks spicy.”

“So?”

I put my menu down and tried to channel my inner school marm to show him just how much he did not impress me with his act. “You hate spicy stuff.”

“I do not hate spicy stuff,” he scoffed. Scoffed.

“You avoid it every time we go out to eat.”

“I don’t avoid it; there are just other things to choose.”

“You almost died when I gave you one spicy-hot Dorito.”

“I– you– I did not. And you surprised me with it!”

“It isn’t bad if you don’t like spicy food, Steve; just admit it.”

“Says the person who mocks me for it.”

“Just that once. You ran to the sink like your head was on fire.”

“You surprised me!”

“It was one chip!”

Sam cleared his throat and I realized Steve and I were leaning close enough to keep our argument quiet, but that meant our foreheads were nearly touching. Sam was smirking and our waitress was giving that patient smile of ‘please fucking order already I have so many tables.’

Steve and I pushed away from each other and I quick flipped through the drink menu. “Shit, what has the most alcohol?” I asked as I scanned through names. “I don’t think I can deal with you sober.”

“Stop it,” Steve said and swatted at me with his menu.

I picked something familiar just to send the poor lady on her way and I was as nice as nice could be in hopes that my drink would get to me safe and sound.

“I got a sample platter of appetizers,” Sam said.

I felt guilty, then. Stupid dumb feelings aside, I really liked Sam a lot– it was mostly that I knew Steve better, so of course I gravitated to him. That instinct was really coming to bite me in the ass now. “Sorry Sam,” I said and scooted another inch away from Steve.

Sam waved a careless hand and looked truly unbothered. Still, I resolved to do better. Maybe next time we went out to eat, Sam could be between me and Steve. Except, judging by Sam’s mischievous smile that flitted from me to Steve and back again, maybe not? I felt a sudden fear that maybe I was being obvious and he knew. “You can pay me back with whatever that ‘Dorito’ story is,” he said. “I couldn’t hear much but I did hear that.”

My heart attack stopped just as it started and the memory of Steve crunching down on a super-spicy chip only to run to wash his mouth out in my kitchen sink was still a memory that made me smile. “I’ll trade it for the superglue story.”

“I guess Steve is safe for now then.” Sam clicked his tongue. “I promised I wouldn’t tell that one except if absolutely necessary.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell at all,” Steve grumbled, raising his voice just loud enough for Sam to hear him over a sudden burst of laughter from a group nearby.

“That’s what you wanted me to promise,” Sam said. “I would never actually promise that and you know it.”

“Because you’re smart,” I said.

“Am I supposed to resent my friends this much?” Steve asked. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You love us and you know it,” I said without thinking.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. Casually. It was very casual and very familiar and meant absolutely nothing. Like it always did. Because he was probably working off the same basic script I was and we had that exchange down, we used it so much for such petty, meaningless shit. It was nothing and that was fine.

But the way he smiled at me after he said it felt so different that it hit me in the chest. I wished he meant it, but Steve was just being Steve and I was reading too much into it, into everything.

I had to hide my face in the menu just to cover up how sad that made me.

After a few seconds Steve said my name and, with some more control over my emotions, I put the menu down. “If we’re going to share,” I said. “What are you bringing to the table?”

I hoped for a change of subject to take my mind off of myself, but Steve smiled, opened his menu and said, “Whatever you want.”

It was going to be a long night.

~

I tried. I made a conscious effort to steer the conversation to Sam at every opportunity, but it almost felt like he was thwarting me to talk up Steve. At first I thought it was a cosmic joke and it was just that my focus was constantly drawn to Steve, but our favorite blond was blushing pretty red by the time Sam was finishing up his story about what a good wingman Steve was.

“I swear, I almost left with four people, he talked me up so much,” Sam said.

“Sam…” Steve groaned, but by then there was no food left for him to stuff his face with and hide.

“Did you keep anybody for yourself?” I asked Steve, mostly joking, but the way they both went quiet made something in my chest leap.

“No,” Steve said, but for some reason I didn’t feel relieved. I felt a little sad, a little…actually, a little curious. Maybe that was my solution. Steve was out of my league, but theoretically obtainable. But if he was in a relationship with someone, anyone, that changed things.

And if it made him happy, it was all I needed.

“Do you ever act as his wingman?” I asked Sam. “Aside from the obvious.”

“Man, have you ever tried to set him up?” Sam shook his head. “Best let him come around when he’s ready.”

“I am pretty stubborn,” Steve said.

“And the ocean is wet,” I said, still thinking. As far as ideas went, it wasn’t half bad. “I’ve never been a wingman before, but how hard could it be?” I asked no one in particular. Steve and Sam, however, shared very concerned glances. “Hey! I could talk him up.”

Sam snorted (rude) and Steve smiled and said, “Or embarrass me?” which was double rude.

“It makes you relatable,” I said. “You are so ungrateful sometimes.”

Steve stared at me like he was thinking of a good comeback and I braced myself. But he suddenly flinched and whipped out his phone.

Sam sat up straighter. “Trouble?”

Steve frowned and answered the call. After a few seconds he rolled his eyes, pulled it partially away and turned his face to Sam. “Not an emergency, but I’ll be right back.”

Steve then looked at me, apologetic puppy eyes already kicking in. “Do what you need to do,” I said and watched him go. As soon as he was out the door I said, “Hey Sam?”

Sam, in the middle of sipping his drink, raised both eyebrows and slowly set his cup down. “I do not like the sound of this.”

“I just said your name.”

“Uh huh, in that tone, right after Steve left. What is it?”

I wanted to ask what that tone supposedly was, but I wanted more to get to my actual question before Steve came back. I leaned back in my chair and tried to affect an air of utmost carelessness.

“Do you think Steve’s lonely?”

Sam blinked. “Okay. Yeah, I’m glad I wasn’t drinking anything for that.”

He sounded so surprised that I felt queasy with embarrassment. This was a bad idea and I was an idiot. “I didn’t– I– I’m sorry–”

“No, no.” Sam leaned in. “I didn’t mean anything by that. You just surprised me.”

“Sorry.” I wanted to have extra-human abilities more than ever. Going invisible would have been the best right then. Except Sam still had my number. Shit. “Can we forget I said that?”

“No,” Sam said. “You sound worried.”

“I was trying for mostly aloof, maybe slightly concerned.”

“Missed the mark just a little.” Sam smiled. “But is there a reason you’re asking?”

Oh, right, he was Steve’s friend too; of course he’d want to know if something was wrong. “It’s nothing he’s said,” I said. “Steve is just…a person who likes people. I’m worried sometimes that there are things he’d like to be doing that maybe he’s afraid to. I’m his friend; it’s my job to make him super uncomfortable.”

Sam grinned. “And what about when he comes back at you with that?”

“Obviously he’s just being mean.”

Sam laughed, but not for too long. At least he wasn’t looking at me weird anymore. “It’s harder than you think to set Steve up,” he said.

“Maybe because he’s not thinking about it,” I said. But if he just happened to find someone who made him go ‘oh’ and imagine settling in…I bit my lip. “What kind of partner do you think Steve would like? Who would be good for him?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well…probably a smartass…someone who doesn’t worship the Captain America ideal; gets along with his friends…smart…doesn’t back down from calling him out when he’s stupid, but is still nice to him and treats him well…”

I frowned. That was way too specific. Well, it was also common sense, but how could I know that about a person unless I knew them. “I get that Steve isn’t shallow but I was kind of hoping to start off with something like ‘brunettes’ or ‘a cute smile’ or something easy. I don’t know a lot of people I can say that about.”

Sam choked on his drink. Hard. I almost went to pat him on the back but he moved away. “Sorry,” he said and wiped the bit of splatter that hit the table. “But are you trying to make Steve a Tinder profile or something?”

“No! No; I would never catfish anyone,” I said and played with my straw. “I just wonder if Steve would like. Someone. In that way. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” Sam was looking at me. I did not know what was going on in his head but I did not like it. “What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“You’re single,” Sam said. “You ever think about Steve as potential?”

Even if I could trust anybody with that one single idea, I could never honestly answer that question and keep my dignity. As it was, Sam was relaxed enough about it that I didn’t meltdown into a panic, and I tried to play it off. “He’s the first friendship I haven’t fucked up in a long time.”

“That’s not answering the question.”

Okay, that was more pointed. Was I somehow exuding ‘want!’ like a pathetic hanger-on? I thought I had been doing all right. “I’m not the kind of person someone would want like that.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said, sounding earnest to such a point that I looked at him. “Steve likes being around you.”

“As a friend,” I said. “Romantic relationships are…something else.”

“Not always,” Sam said. “Sometimes it’s a friendship with more physicality. And only if the people involved are into that. Anyway…” He sat back in his seat. “I was just asking. You two are pretty close.”

“He’s my friend,” I said and looked out the window. Steve was waiting for a few other people to exit, and even caught the door before it could slam on someone. They looked up to thank him and he smiled, like the gracious dork he was. “I want him to be happy. He deserves someone kind, and smart, and strong, and if not pretty, then someone who cares about their body enough to take care of it. Someone good. Someone good enough.”

Sam chuckled. “I like Steve too, but you know him. He ain’t exactly Saint Rogers.”

“Oh, he’s definitely not,” I said, still watching as Steve tried to extricate himself from the thankful person. Poor guy; another good deed gone wrong. “But he still deserves all good things.”

“And what if he wants something else?”

I didn’t get to tell Sam that Steve deserved more than a mess, because Steve managed to sneak away while the woman was looking elsewhere, and he ducked into his seat next to me with a bashful, “I’m so sorry.”

“Did she offer to give you her firstborn or did she want you to help make them?” I asked.

Sam laughed and Steve pushed his face into his arms with a long, drawn-out groan of my name. “Ooo, I don’t think I’ve gotten one that big before,” I said. “That must have been good.”

“You’re both the worst,” Steve said as he sat up, and brushed some of his hair back. There was a stray strand after his hand left and I almost, almost reached to pull it down.

I cleared my throat and sat very, very straight in my chair, and put my hands in my lap. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” He waved a hand and the motion moved the hair into place. “Tony being Tony.”

“And you answered?” Sam asked.

“The last time I ignored him like that he left hundreds of one second voicemails and made it so I couldn’t select them all at once,” Steve said. “I had to delete them one by one.”

I snorted so hard I sounded like an actual pig, and when Steve shot me a dirty look I clamped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry,” I said, trying not to smile.

Steve wasn’t helping by holding back his own smile. Enabling jerk. “You would have been so mad if it happened to you.”

“Undeniably pissed,” I agreed. “But…it’s a little funny.”

“Nope,” Steve said primly. “Not when it happens to me.”

“You're both assholes,” Sam said and I toasted him before throwing back the last of my drink. Sam was working on his second glass so I checked my phone to see if I had time for another. It was a little late, but…

“Do you guys want dessert?” Steve asked.

I pushed the glass away and leaned over to scan the menu he pulled out from the stand. Steve turned so he could move the menu closer and I tried not to crowd him too much, but after not finding anything I could eat by myself I turned my head up to ask him if he wanted to split something and came face-to-face, literally, with just how close we were. His arm was behind my chair and my shoulder was touching his chest, and now that I had realized it I couldn’t be anything but hyper-aware of the contact. He was leaning over– to read the menu, of course, since it was mostly in front of me, but I hadn’t noticed that I was practically ensconced by him, until now, and when he said my name, his lips–

“Can I uh…” I scooted away just a little bit, if only to give my brain some room to function. “Can I steal this for a second?”

“Oh, of course.” Steve sat back in his own chair and I was as disappointed as I was relieved. “I know what I want.”

Sam didn’t say anything and I couldn’t bring myself to look up, even after I selected something. I didn’t have anything I could feasibly distract myself with, so I stared at the page. ‘Very subtle; A+ deflection, Self. Idiot,’ I thought sourly.

“What did you pick?” Steve asked and put his hand back on the back of my chair. It was light and more distant than before but it was there and god, I really needed to get over myself. I took a swig of water and sat straight, ignoring the brief brush of his fingers on my back. I could do this. I could not be a desperate creep logging every point of contact with my friend who was just being his normal friendly self.

“There’s a fancy boozy hot chocolate that looks good,” I said. “What are you getting?”

Rather than tell me, he showed me. By coming in even closer than he had before, putting his arm fully along the back of my chair, and pointing excitedly at some peanut-butter-chocolate monstrosity. It was a testament to just how much he fried my brain that I wasn’t more focused on the exact specifications of food, and instead fixated on ‘Steve wow muscles wow he’s warm Steve hi Steve hi oh god I’m in so much trouble.’

So much for non-creepy.

“It– uh– it looks real good,” I said and swallowed hard. Sam snorted and I lifted my eyes, not my head, because I didn’t want Steve to see the look I was giving him. As far as superpowers went though, invisibility was out and telepathy was in, because being able to actually tell Sam ‘if you say one fucking word I will eat your HEART’ would have been invaluable right then.

He was duly unimpressed. And held his hand out. “Can I have a look, or…”

Steve snapped the menu shut and handed it over faster than I could even have a chance to respond. “Sorry Sam,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling genuinely so. I needed to stop acting like I was a moon in Steve’s gravitational orbit.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Sam said, but he was smug about his magnanimity that I didn’t feel so bad anymore.

Getting dessert was a painless ordeal, at least. I stayed quiet while Sam and Steve talked and tried to center myself. Steve’s dessert looked delicious (and yes, definitely monstrous) and Sam had a piece of cheesecake, and the two of them bickered over which one was better. When they turned to me I had finally pushed aside some of the mountain of whipped cream (that I was definitely going to get to later) and I took a tentative sip. It was hot, but the new burn on my tongue was worth the rich, full, sweet and spiked flavor that rolled in over it.

I glanced up and when I saw Steve staring at me I did a double take that made me hit my lip on the cup in a way that pinched it. Graceful. Great.

Steve smiled. “How is it?”

“It’s, um, good. Really good,” I said and looked at the massive cup with new longing that maybe I could drown in it. Or maybe upend it over my head. At least then I’d have an excuse to leave that would be slightly less embarrassing.

“We can tell,” Sam said and I flipped him off. They both laughed and I managed to pull myself away from the cup, feeling like I was safe.

That was not to be.

Sam snorted. “Uhh…”

I looked at him but he had the strangest smile. “What?” I asked and looked at Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he said, but before I could feel okay again he said, “You just have something, right…” and touched my face to wipe away whatever it was with his thumb.

I sat stock-still for a moment and tried to get a handle on that. Steve said my name and I snapped to. “Did you get it?” I asked, shockingly casual to my own ears. Hopefully that wasn’t just a wishful interpretation.

“Yeah, I– sorry; I should have asked,” Steve said and went back to his food. Sam was stifling laughter but I ignored him and tried to enjoy my liquid dessert…but I drank it way too fast just out of nerves.

At the end of our courses Sam stretched and I didn’t bother even fake-haranguing Steve over the bill. I felt exhausted. It was a good thing I still had a day to recover so I wouldn’t be sniping at my co-workers due to social fatigue.

“We can give you a ride back to your place,” Steve said.

“I think I’ll walk,” I said. Some cold air sounded nicer than a stiflingly hot cab at the moment, even if I was worn down.

“I’ll walk with you,” Steve said. I couldn’t think of a good reason to argue, and I was too tired to panic, so I looked at Sam.

“I’m gonna get a ride back and go to bed swearing that I’ll never eat this much again, until I wake up in the morning looking for breakfast,” Sam said and patted his stomach. “But you two have fun with that.”

When we were parting outside the door I stopped and gave Sam a real tight hug. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best company, but I’m glad you guys invited me.”

“We’re happy to take you however you are,” Sam said and hugged just as tight. “Ain't that right, Steve?”

“Absolutely,” Steve said fervently.

They were too good to me. I gave Sam one last squeeze and stepped back. “In case I don’t see you again before you leave, don’t be a stranger.”

“Well, maybe you can come out to DC sometime,” he said.

“Hm.” I considered traveling. “We’ll have to discuss our friendship level later. That’s a much longer period away from my couch.”

“I bet my couch is more comfortable.”

That woke me up a little. “You haven’t even been on my couch!”

Sam smirked. He was just as devious as Steve; he just looked better doing it. “Doesn’t matter– now you’re curious.”

I slumped. He was right. “You’re awful and I’m never going to DC if only to spite you.”

“Right, right,” he said, utterly unconvinced. “Good night you two.”

“Bye Sam,” and “See you tomorrow Sam,” came from me and Steve respectively, but we both lingered on the sidewalk awkwardly.

Steve opened his arm to gesture towards home. My home, that was. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I said, mocking the words just a little before I fell in line next to him. I wasn’t really that affected from the drinks but the cold night air kept me pretty awake and aware and I felt all right, everything considered. I had gone out to a new place with two people I really liked, and I hadn’t abjectly humiliated myself, and the friend who I had a crush on was none the wiser. I was starting to think I could really do this; I could come to grips with these feelings and move past them before he even knew they existed.

“Here.”

That was, naturally, when Steve decided to put his arm around me and pull me in closer. My heart made a single beat within my esophagus and then just gave up entirely. Jesus Christ; I’d have rather lived out hard mode in “Dark Souls.” At least then I knew the torment would end.

“Am I shivering that much?” I asked as non-judgmentally as I could.

“Just a little,” Steve said. I could tell he was looking at me and I couldn’t bring myself to look back at him. “Is this okay? Would you rather have my jacket?”

“No.” Him being a stupid self-sacrificing jerk snapped me out of my own head and I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s not dirty.”

I looked at him then. Sternly. Or at least, that’s what I tried for. “I know how you feel about the cold,” I said, lowering my voice just in case.

I still wasn’t sure if that was okay to say, but while he got more serious, it was…in a soft way. “I’d be fine,” he said, but he hooked me closer. “I feel pretty warm right now.”

“You only had one sip of my hot chocolate. Did the booze get to you that much?”

“It’s not the booze. Or the hot chocolate,” he said meaningfully.

Oh no. Oh no. If he knew, would he ever–

“You're not going to get sappy on me, are you?” I asked, trying to pull this plane up, up, up.

“Why not?” he said. “You did.”

“I did not.”

“You did.” He grinned and that– that, I could handle. Keep being a little shit and maybe I’ll get through this with some pretend dignity, I thought. Hoped.

“Nope,” I said. “I was being mean. And– and scolding, and stern.”

“Nope,” he said, like the overgrown brat he was. “You were being kind and considerate and sweet–”

I burst out laughing. He looked surprised and I tried to wave it away. “I’m sorry, but I–” I coughed and stifled my laughter into something quieter, to match the white waves of hot breath disappearing into cold air. “Nobody has ever thought of me as sweet.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I’m thinking it right now.”

Honestly it was too ridiculous to be real. “You’re just doing it because you want to be annoying. You don’t mean it.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he said, but he tugged on my hand and we stopped, off to the side of the walkway as people passed us intermittently. I didn’t know if he meant it, but the look on his face meant something. “I’m glad you felt well enough to come out. Tonight. With us,” he said.

I managed a little smile. “Me too. Thanks for inviting me. And being understanding.”

“Of course,” he said.

A yawn overtook me so suddenly I had to rush to cover it. Fucking ‘moodkiller’ was my middle name. “Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

But Steve just smiled and brought me back out with him closer to the street. “Then we’ll get a cab, and I’ll see you home.” And he did. He rode the whole way with me, paid the guy to wait, and walked me all the way to my door. Since he had the cab downstairs I was able to keep him outside the apartment, but I still closed the door so slowly, like I could savor every second. As soon as it was shut and locked though exhaustion settled into my every pore and I was thankful for it. I went right to my bed and barely managed to change into my pajamas before I passed out, and found a momentary reprieve from my fears.

    ~bonus~

Steve: So? Sam: I should be asking you Sam: You staying the night? Steve: Sam Steve: You promised Steve: What do you think? Sam: I stand by that I think you need to grow up Steve: You owe me, you said anything Sam: I said I’d do it, I never said I wouldn’t make fun of you Steve: Well? Sam: Well Sam: I think you’re both equal on the low self-esteem Sam: So you have that in common Steve: Oh :( Sam: I’m not the one you should be sad-eyeing Sam: But to the point: Sam: My opinion hasn’t changed; I think you have a shot Sam: But you’re gonna have to put in the work to convince her she’s the one you want Sam: She was more concerned about you having a partner that was ‘good enough’ for you Sam: Do with all that what you will Sam: I love you man but I am out of this Steve: Thank you Sam Steve: I appreciate the help and I promise I have it from here Steve: But Steve: I can’t believe you were going to tell her the super glue story Steve: Worst wingman ever Sam: Hey now Sam: I wasn’t really going to Sam: I knew you’d back down Sam: I was just saving you from yourself Sam: Lesson #1: don’t embarrass your girl in front of her co-workers Steve: Are there other lessons? Sam: Well #2 would have been ‘don’t call your girl an asshole’ Sam: But she seemed pretty okay with that so you’ll have to make your own rules Steve: I will :) Steve: She’s not my girl though Sam: Not with that attitude she’s not Steve: Good point Steve: Night Sam Sam: Night asshole. Do not step foot in here in the morning unless you want it up your ass

Sam flipped away from the conversation before Steve could jam the metaphorical foot down his throat and went to his second-most-recent conversation.

Sam: What does it take to get the good vodka Natasha: Depends on the story Sam: I just spent the last few hours as a 3rd wheel with two people who were on a date but pretending they were not on a date while desperately wanting to be on a date Natasha: Come to Clint’s Natasha: I’ll ready the Beluga Natasha: You bring the story Sam: You keep the good shit at Clint’s???? Natasha: You’ll see why when you get here ;)

Sam knew Natasha better than to question, so he slipped his shoes back on and went to bitch the night away. At the very least, he’d have some good company and commiseration. At best, Steve would have someone else on his ass, and hopefully this whole situation would get resolved before anybody got hurt.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy #mutual pining #idiots in love

[b-rainlet]

You made me ship Lunya T.T but as a Allison stan this kind made me ship her with Diego... headcanon about the neglected couples? :O

Tbh, there are a lot of ship possibilities that could be seen as neglected couples since there are 7 main people who could be thrust into about 21 ship dynamics - not counting poly ships and not counting ships that aren’t sibling ships - like Klave or Vanya/Helen or even still incest stuff like Gracexthe sibs.

So you see, endless possibilities but there are only about 4 ships who are really popular? Klave, Kliego, Fiveya...maybe Horrance? And even then, most Horrance or Fiveya shippers still see their ship as a rarepair because compared to Klave or Kliego it more or less is.

Which may have to do with the fact that if you’re an anti but wanna ship something you have pretty limited options, so Klave it is.

So you probably want some Allison/Diego hcs but I’m gonna do a little more because Allison is less popular in general so her ships are not that often talked about.

I’ll leave out Alluther because I did some OTP asks about them, but y’all know I ship them because it’s the sweet story of childhood sweethearts meeting again and falling in love all over again and it’s just...*sighs dreamily* lots of possibilities.

Allison/Diego: A fun ship! At first you’d probably say: ‘We have a pretty much functional adult with a child and a guy who eats raw eggs to seem edgy’ so it’s easy to fall into a Hermione/Ron relationship interpretation where you have a dumbass and someone done with their shit - and I can see it being like that occasionally but not always!

When I think about them I mostly think about teasing. They totally do some competitive shit just because they wanna best each other but where that same dynamic could quickly turn into arguments for Luego I can see it staying mostly light-hearted with Allison/Diego.

(Quick question, do they have a ship name? Asking for tagging purposes).

And Allison would take none of Diego’s shit. Oh, Diego has one of his mood swings and tries to be an emo boy and pull that ‘I don’t need anyone shit’? Boy, Allison is a single mother who’s been through a divorce already, she doesn’t have time for your angst.

Lmao, Allison being like: “We’ll sit down and talk about our feelings now” after a fight and Diego complains the whole time but sits down like a good boy.

Also, Allison would do the vigilante thing from time to time because she may pretend to be an adult and above that kinda stuff but it’s fun and they definitely argue over who took out more people.

Give me that power couple pls.

Allison/Klaus: One of my favourite ships! Can be real whole-hearted or angsty depending on the angle you take.

Like, Allison who keeps busting Klaus out of prison with her status and her rumours and who pays for his rehab stay every single time, at first still telling him that she’s gonna fix him with that Hollywood ‘You can do it’ attitude - slowly getting more and more annoyed by her no-good brother, feeling like a babysitter - maybe even refusing to keep indulging his brother, to keep giving him money he’s only gonna use on drugs anyway.

And Klaus who despises Allison’s glamour lifestyle, her polished image and her nuclear family - we could even throw some biphobia in there because Klaus remembers their talks about how pretty girls are but Allison pretends that never happened because it wouldn’t do her career much good. (Just like being seen with her junkie brother, “isn’t that why we can’t meet anywhere that isn’t a back alley? Why you can’t talk to me without sunglasses and a hat? Why you keep your voice down even when I scream at you?”)

Plus, some added angst: Patrick telling Allison to just drop her brother already, he’s just gonna self-destruct and take her with him and that creates tension between the two of them, could even be one of the many reasons for their divorce.

And just like that, Allison loses all of it. And Klaus is there with a cheap bottle of Tequila, already high and grinning at her: “Welcome at the bottom, sister dearest!”

*insert the 30k story about the two of them slowly learning to understand each other and finally being able to heal - with the help from the other but also because they wanna change for themselves. I vote for added bed sharing and sleepovers and them doing each other’s nails but also them fucking once and not talking about it because they were both really hurt and not really thinking when it happened but it staying in the back of their minds until they realize that they could actually work together*

This got angstier than it was supposed to be, sorry! I love them, I swear!

Allison/Five: Probably the least popular one out of all the Allison ships!

I have to admit that I don’t think about Five ships much? Which probably has to do with the whole child body thing but I’m not opposed to ships involving them! (Especially when they’re enby, y’all know my brand).

Allison/Five would be that kinda snob couple who knows they are superior to you and they’re not above showing you. Lots of quibs, lots of sarcasm.

But also probably one of the more mature ones? I can see Allison being unsure at first because Five is- no, looks like a kid and who knows when that will get fixed? And maybe it’s because she’s a Mum but sometimes she just treats them like a child and Five hates it.

(Five probably has to do a lot of courting before Allison considers a relationship. Which is bullshit. They both know there’s tension there, why the fuck is Allison drawing back from that? Just because Five’s trapped in this body? Does Allison think they want that?)

Five aggressively flirting while Allison to herself is like: ‘Hoe, don’t do it.’ but eventually giving in.

And of course, depending on your take of Five’s body, things are gonna be weird. Like, a popular hc is to have Five in a 20ish body but even then, just imagine the headlines.

Allison Hargreeves, world star, dating a guy 10 years younger!!! Is she getting over her divorce with a boy toy?

(Not to mention the pseudo-incest part).

They’d get a lot of shit I’d say.

And Five would be furious about that. How dare they imply that their relationship with Allison is just some fling? They’ll show them. So they make a game out of proving the paparazzi wrong. Makes it their mission to treat Allison as right as possible.

(Also I have feelings about the whole Five - Claire - Allison thing. I mean, just Five mentioning wanting to meet Claire? Knowing her name? I am soft).

And I know I am rambling a little but whether you think Patrick was/is a nice guy or not (I personally think he is), I can see Allison being so obsessed with seeming flawless and having the picture perfect family - as opposed to her own family - that she felt like she could never really be herself? Like she had to hide a lot of her more ‘ugly’ sides to be desirable.

And Five doesn’t care about that shit. Five also doesn’t care about courtesy. Five will jump into her room at the beginning of their relationship, watch her scramble around to try and change into something nicer than her pajamas and apologize for her messy hair and her pimples- “I just woke up, I didn’t have time to put on my make up, can’t you come back later Five?”

And Five’s like: “You look like someone who just woke up. Your hair is sweaty and you have a pretty big pimple on your nose. Also, your morning breath is horrible. Can we cuddle now?”

(Five is the first partner Allison burps in front of. It’s pretty freeing).

Five on the other hand has someone they can be insecure in front of. Where they don’t have to pretend they know all the answers. Be dismissive with. (They’re trying to let all of their siblings in but it’s a process, okay?)

I’m sorry, I’ll stop now but I gave myself feelings.

Allison/Ben: This feels like an easier couple. Like, more normal, lmao. Just a couple of adopted sibs falling in love the old-fashioned way - after one of them gets brought back to live and they survive a near apocalypse their sister caused.

I like to spin some tale of being in love as kids (like with Alluther) but for me the two of them really work better as just being friends as kids and then once Ben comes back, Allison realizes how much she missed him and she’s like “What is this???? Am I....crushing on him??” (imagine the Beauty and the Beast song where they realise they like each other while playing in the snow).

Just...some good and nice slowburn. Maybe some added angst with Ben thinking Allison is confusing her relieve of him being alive with being in love or believes she’s looking for a rebound after her divorce.

Or maybe he believes he’s just touch-starved and that’s why he clings to Allison?

(Imagine the two of them chilling at the mansion together, just picking up where they left off, pretending to still be kids. Allison all excitedly showing Ben what he’s missed during all those years and what he only gets to experience now - let’s be honest this mostly boils down to Allison making him eat a bunch of stuff, not even waiting until he takes a bite himself but just putting it in his mouth because she wants to see whether he likes it).

(I hc that Allison can’t cook for shit but Ben has no real frame of reference unless you count blurry memories of what food used to taste like so it’s heaven to him and Allison is giddy).

They’re just cute, okay?

Allison/Vanya: ANGST. GAY ANGST. I mean, the guilt over what happened, Allison feeling like it’s her fault and treating Vanya all nice but Vanya stilll flinches everytime she sees the angry red scar across Allison’s throat. Plus, if Allison still can’t speak and will never speak again and Vanya tries her hardest to learn ASL with her so she doesn’t have to write down everything all the time.

Young Allison/Vanya with Vanya realising she’s queer and sneaking glances at Allison and immediately feeling guilty because she shouldn’t be looking, it’s wrong and dirty and Allison will hate her and-

Whereas she is completely missing the way Allison is looking back.

Also this ship can easily turn toxic with either of them - or both - getting overbearing after all that happened. And tbh, that’s just as exciting to write/think about.

That’s all I got for now but you’re welcome to talk more Allison/Allison ships with me!

#Allison Hargreeves

[the-writing-dump-bin]

We Met a Year Ago 💗 (Part 2)

So, I made a second part to my anniversary when I started watching Stardust Crusaders and when I first met Jotaro. Nothing special, just another self insert fic.

Jotaro Kujo x Lyss Self Indulgent fic

Although Jotaro said he would do anything I wanted today, I kept it simple. I may remember specific dates, but I am also not the type to do extravagant things. After breakfast, I hopped into the shower and got just a little dressed up; still picking comfy and warm clothes. It was just as chilly as I thought it was going to be. With my hair dried and straightened, the little bit of makeup that I put on and my teeth brushed, I head downstairs to see Jotaro sitting on the couch watching tv. "Finally. You took forever."

"I was upstairs for like, forty five minutes."

"Did you come up with something to do?" He asks. I stand in front of him and he looks me over. His facial expression doesn't change but I can see that little gleam in his eyes that says 'Wow'.

Blushing, I wring my hands the way I always do when I'm nervous or anxious. I don't like focused attention on myself. "S-Stop looking at me like that." I look away then I was pulled by the big man to sit on his lap. He nuzzles his nose very softly around my eye. And when I say 'softly', it's almost as the motion isn't even happening. But I love it. "I was thinking maybe we just go to the mall. I still need to do Christmas shopping."

Jotaro groans a little bit but agrees. I know how much he hates going out to the mall, especially together. I'm not fond of it either. Why? Well, whenever we go to overly public places, we have eyes from strangers looking at us as we pass by. Our height differences are pretty significant, he's 6'5 and I'm 5'5 and people either stare or comment on it. We both find it annoying. What Jotaro does like about going to the mall with me is that when I shop, I know which stores and what I'm looking for beforehand so I don't spend all my time browsing at things I'll never buy or go into stores that don't appeal to me. I'm in and out; quick as possible.

We arrive at the mall. Parking is scarce this time of year, even during week days at 1 pm on a Tuesday afternoon. Walking hand in hand- okay, my hand in Star Platinum's hand- we stroll through the building.

The first store I go into is a toy store. I have lots of children in my family that I need to buy for. There are so many new toys now that I can't keep up with all of them. I went down every aisle touching all the toys and seeing how they worked. Jotaro follows me silently, hands stuffed in his pockets. After I pick out what I want to buy, we head to the cashier and pay. Jotaro tries to pay for my purchase but I stop him immediately. "No. You know I don't like it when you pay for things I want to buy."

He scrunches his face. Since we've been together, he's always been trying to pay for anything I wanted. I told him that I don't feel comfortable when people pay for me. It makes me feel guilty and that I can't afford anything on my own. Only on the rarest occasion, do I ask for help if I need gas for the car or something. "Yare yare..." He does carry my bag though.

"Maybe I should buy some gifts, too." Jotaro mutters. "Christmas will be here before we know it. I would have to send some back to Japan so I should go and get them and send them out as quick as possible."

"They might not get there on time. Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"

"That's why I am going to go and buy some... Don't you listen?" I scowl at him as he smiles at me. Star appeared again and gave me a kiss. We both don't like PDA so we're thankful for the Stand. "I'll meet you in the food court in a bit." He walks in the opposite direction of me and goes to shop on his own.

Almost an hour later, I meet my husband where we were to meet. He is still carrying the bag I bought at the toy store with a couple others he acquired. "Are you hungry?" He asks. "I saw a restaurant I want to try."

I nod and point to his bags. "What did you get?" I try to peek but he quickly moved them away from me.

"You don't need to see what I bought."

"Hmpf, fine. Where do you want to eat?" He makes me follow him. I skip to keep up with his long strides before he stops and I run into him. Pouting with annoyance at him, I look to find he led me to a Japanese restaurant. It looks nice for a mall restaurant and not that busy.

Jotaro knew I wasn't a big fan of most of what was on the menu, but it had a couple things that I really enjoyed. We are seated in a booth and handed menus. I quickly pick what I want and close it, waiting for the most handsome man in the world to decide what he wants to eat. I hook my leg with his under the table, he does the same with mine. "I'm paying for this, alright?"

His voice is stern and I agree, but not without feeling guilt.

~

Full and sick of being out in public for too long, we head home. The sun had set and it turned dark really quick; thanks daylight savings. Jotaro brought in all of the bags and took them to our room. He kept me out with Star Platinum guarding the door; obviously he bought something for me. I stand in front of the purple being and cross my arms. "I want to get dress for the evening, move please."

"Ora!"

I sigh with exhaustion and frustration. Why do I bother to talk to you? "Jotaro! Hurry up, I want to put my pajama's on!"

The door opens after a minute and Jotaro walks out in his own nighttime attire- just the lounge pants. As he walks by, he ruffles my hair and makes his way to the living room.

"What did you buy me today?" I ask before he is out of sight.

"What makes you think I bought you something?"

I shrug. "You were gone for an hour at the mall without me, you wouldn't let me look in the bags, you locked me out of my room... I could easily find where you hid something."

"No you can't." He gives me a wink and disappears around the corner. "Besides, I could have hid it somewhere else, you don't know."

"Oh, so you *did buy me something."

"Shut up."

I smile and head into the room. He could be a smartass, but so could I. Making sure he was nowhere near, I pulled out the small bag I had hidden inside my purse and opened it. I look at my purchase and smirk. I change into it and grab Jotaro's oversized hoodie, pulling the large sweater over me.

Walking into the living room, Jotaro is back on the couch watching tv. I go over and sit on his lap uninvited and give him a kiss, bringing a small moan out of him. Opening his eyes he had closed for a moment, he sees his hoodie draped over my body. It goes down right to my knees, showing my bare legs. He runs his hand over them. "Did you have a good day today?"

"Much so." I place my hand on his cheek, giving him more kisses. "Thank you." A year ago, I never thought I would be here with him. We had seemed to be opposites but found out we are the same in some ways that brought us together. Others may not see what I see, but I love him very much.

During our make out session, he starts to slide his hand upwards and discovered what was underneath his sweater, feeling something frilly and silky. With his brows knit together, he pulls up the hoodie and sees what I'm wearing, or lack there of. He stares longer than I'm comfortable with, but I can see he likes it. "Where did you get this?" He finally asks.

"At the mall when we parted." I pull the hoodie over my head and toss it to the side. "I wanted to get you a gift for taking me out to the mall. I bought you something to match it, too."

Jotaro's eyes go wide when I say that and looks like he's about to panic. "What do you mean match? You didn't get something like this for me to wear, right?!" I laugh and tell him that no, I didn't get him anything like this to wear. He lets out a relieved sigh. "Yare yare, don't do something like that to me!" He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, fingers digging into my skin.

He's getting more excited the longer we kiss, touching the silk and playing with the frills on the seams. "Jotaro..." I gasp between breaths. "I'm so happy I met you. You have been my only light in the darkness I had been thrown in."

Jotaro's hand tangles in my hair and he gently lays me on my back, his frame crawling over mine to cage me. I feel so small under him. He presses into me, grinding his hips minutely against mine. "Do you want to take this to the bedroom?" I ask while giggling.

Those familiar growls I've come to know and love can be heard. He doesn't say anything for what feels like forever until his lips are at my ear and whisper "There's no way we're making it to the bedroom."

#self shipping #self ship #self indulgent fic #my writing #my fic #jotaro #jotaro kujo #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro x lyss

[selfdulgent-selfinsert]

Caught in the Middle. (A self-indulgent, reader insert) Chapter 4:

Joseph couldn’t believe that you said yes, all the teasing he had undergone from Sebastian all since texting you was worth it. It leads to him anxiously contemplating over his small closet. What to wear? Something formal maybe? No. You were just going out for coffee, there’s no need to be formal; but what did he have for anything close to casual? He guessed an old pair of jeans and a V-neck would have to do. It was a little embarrassing honestly, Joseph hadn’t worn anything but a button up out of his house since joining the KPD detective department. It had his favorite show Unusual things emblazoned in its 80’s neon font, hopefully, you’d either like the show or consider it not too casual; he wanted to look like he cared about this date, but not too much. While you didn’t want to overdress, you certainly looked more elaborate than your plain white nursing gown and minimal makeup. You were stunning, your coat, dress, tights, and shoes matching perfectly; Joseph stopped dead in his tracks before he could move closer to you. In his eyes you could rival any model; your cozy, simple attire flattered you in all the right ways. The small kremmogorgon hanging off your purse was just a bonus and he felt better about his choice of shirt. While waiting your fingers played with the keychain nervously, worried Joseph wouldn’t come. “(Y/n)!” He called snapping out of his amorous stupor and walking up to you. “Sorry, I’m a little late. I hope you’re not too cold after waiting for me.” “Ah! That’s okay Joseph, my coat is really warm, and so I don’t mind! I’m glad you came!” Now it was your turn to admire him and while his slightly disheveled hair made you wonder how soft it was and his shirt was a cute look for him there was something wrong. “Joseph, aren’t you cold?” Shit. He forgot his coat at home in haste; he shivered. “I’ll be okay inside the coffee shop (y/n), so how about we head inside?” His cheeks were starting to flush from the cold. “Let’s go get you warmed up Joseph.” So said while turning to open the glass door. The smell of coffee hit your nose as you stepped in after him. The doors bell ringing as it swung shut; you crinkled your nose. Coffee wasn’t really your thing, you’d do a mug when working long shifts but the smell of the beans and pure fresh coffee made you a little queasy. Tea was more your speed, and this shop had the best hand-blended selection in Krimson city; any amount of unpleasant smell was worth a cup of their earl grey latte. “I’ll get the coffee (y/n), my treat. Or an apology for being late if you will.” “Oh, Joseph you don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” He cut you off, whatever emotion that was in his eyes made you feel something powerful. The word sploosh echoed around your head as your cheeks flushed. Damn you have been single for a while, especially if just this was all it took. “What kind would you like?” He punctuated his offer with a rosy smile. “Thank you, Joseph, this is really nice of you. I’d like an Earl Grey Latte if that’s okay? But I’m paying next time!” He nodded and turned to the Barista. You moved to stand closer with him at the drink-window. “Warming up okay Joseph?” “Yes, good company always helps” he winked down at you and chuckled “especially when they're beautiful like you.” GOD WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE SO FUCKIN LIKE THAT. You weren’t going to let his out flirt you now, so you took advantage of the weather; you took his hand in your own and pulled his arm into your coat and against your torso. “Well if you would like warmer company I’ll gladly accommodate.” There was a quiet moment before you both burst out laughing. “That was so bad Joseph I’m sorry!” You cried in-between laughter; “No, (y/n) I walked into that one!” you both held onto each other while laughing, both your nerves finally coming to a head with a hearty laugh. The night went wonderfully after shedding your nerves, taking your drinks to the sofa and snuggling together for the remainder of the outing. Exchanging interests and personal ideals. You learned how Joseph liked to stick with the rules and his love for old 1980’s horror films. He, in turn, learned about your love for art and video games. Mutually gushing over Unusual Things and your favorite characters like the Kemmogorgon and the main cast of kids. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t having a fantastic time, but sadly the shop had to close and you parted separate ways. Not before you made sure Joseph would take a cab home to shield him from the chill of late autumn. You looked forward to the remaining weekend while walking home, you were walking on air after the date and a quiet weekend home gave you so much freedom. The prospect was extremely inviting and your head swam with ideas for tomorrow; though it was only hours away. The alarm blared Monday morning. Had you slept through the entire weekend? No, but it went way to fast. Your chores and hobbies consumed you for 48 hours; spending hours painting and texting with Joseph on his breaks. You already had plans to go out again next Wednesday evening for dinner. God, you wished it was here already. You rolled onto the floor and shambled into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and standing in front of your open fridge; debating what the hell you would eat. Deciding on a protein bar instead of cooking again so you could dress while eating. Your nursing dress was outdated as the other hospitals in the city mandated the use of scrubs for every staff member, but Beacon was different. Some old-thinking higher-ups were what you guessed. While annoying to have to buy hard to find scrub dresses instead of your plethora of modern scrubs, you did admit that since you were little the dresses were your favorite and you had always wanted to wear them. A double-edged sword if you had ever seen one. Remembering your lunch this time, you locked the door to your apartment and headed out for the day; making sure to message Joseph, wishing him a good day. Perhaps you were both moving a little fast but you really did not care. Your current communication with him had you thirsty as fuck and god damn you wanted this to go somewhere.

 “Good morning Leslie,” you said, waking Leslie from slumber and handing him his daily medications. “Did you have a good weekend? I hope you and Carrie had fun this weekend.” He smiled from under his blankets. “Tired, tired, tired…” Mumbling as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I know Leslie, it’s early, but you can sleep some more after you take your medicine okay.” A cocktail of pills was handed to him via small paper cups. You were amazed at how brave he was for taking such large capsules, they were always so intimidating. Tucking him back in you then reached over to pull his little teddy bear closer and tucking it in right beside Leslie. “Sleep as much as you want Leslie, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit okay?” He nodded and snuggled the bear.

Leaving the room you opened Leslie’s door to walk straight into a slender chest; Dr. Ruvik was standing right in front of the door. Was he watching? “(y/n) I don’t mean to intrude but I’ve come to ask for your assistance and didn’t want to barge in.”

“Oh, of course, DR. Ruvik, let me just shut the door and I’ll be right with you.

“Wonderful.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll be waiting for you in my office, it’s in the basement with the lab.”

You turned to the door as he walked off, the electronic clock making a slight click. Giving an experimental push to ensure it wouldn’t budge. One of the grim reminders that you were in fact, in a psychiatric hospital; some clients have the habit of wandering off when not occupied, supervised or locked down and Leslie was one of them. He never went far, just out front to see if his passed family had come to take him home, though it would never happen. You peered through the doors small window to give one last check on Leslie before hurrying to catch up with the doctor and managing to catch him before he entered the main elevator. Dr. Ruvik smiled as you stepped into the small room with him. “What exactly did you need help with Dr. Ruvik?” He hit the main floor button. “I have many patients as you know (y/n), and as with research they have helped me accumulate a mass of paperwork and cassettes.” He tapped his pocket, assuming he was checking to see if it was still there. “I request your help with organizing such a large collection as it would take too long to accomplish this myself.”

Your interest was piqued, a chance to be snoopy on what exactly was going on with Leslie or perhaps the machine as a whole was exactly what you didn’t know you wanted. You could almost taste the delicious answers dangling right in front of you, and all you had to do was help. “I have scheduled another nurse to care for Leslie for the rest of the day.” BITCH WHAT. You turned quickly to face the doctor as he stared ahead at the doors. “This is a confidential task as you and Dr. Jimenez are the only ones involved with medical training, I require your specific aid. I’d much rather work with you then that snake Jimenez anyway.” Staying silent, you weren’t sure if it was pure shock and concern for Leslie or perhaps jealousy. He was your clients and hell you’d become kind of protective over him. Your silence didn’t seem to faze the doctor as he stepped off the elevator, calling back for you. “Come now (y/n) we have work to do.”

Without much of an option, you followed. Like a sheep, you followed the wolf into the bowels of the hospital.

#the evil within #the evil within x reader #the evil within fanfiction #joseph oda #joseph oda x reader #joseph x reader x ruvik #ruvik victoriano #ruvik x reader #ruben victoriano #ruben victoriano x reader #ruben x reader #slow burn #yandere fanfiction #fanfiction #yandere ruvik #yandere #male yandere

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Another Old File with the Same Idea....

Basically, this is what happens when I get bored, tired, and am done with homework.

I love self-inserts, and I love Otome games. As such, I began to wonder what would it be like if I, as myself with all my knowledge, suddenly found myself in the place of the MC.

This came from it. I warn you- this is highly self-indulgent and I have way to much fun with it.

-0-

When I was 21, I woke up one day to find myself 17 again. At first, I thought it was a dream.

It wasn’t.

I was furious. Being a teen again sucked so hard. Dealing with depression, hormones, confusing feels of sexuality…

However, I didn’t focus to much on it. Not when something happened that didn’t before.

My elder brother died. He tried some drugs, and got the wrong ones.

I was in shock for a long time. My parent’s couldn’t either. My little brother broke to. Ran off as soon as he turned 10, vanished. I fell into a fog even worse, my parents drew away from me in their own depression.

I in turn began to write. Stories I’d shared with my brothers, stories I’d promised to get published.

I sold them online and became fairly known among certain online communities as I went to school, choosing corrections once more, my parents leaving Canada for California. I was left alone completely.

I was 20 wen I got the call from police. Leo, my little brother, had been found.

He was dead himself. Got into the same lifestyle as Carver, our oldest brother, had been in.

He was thirteen.

I went on a bender, woke up with a book written about Jenny and her little brother Eric. Jenny was a cop while Eric was a gangster. The two were hunting down their elder brother’s killer, Jenny legally and Eric illegally.

I sent it to a publisher, got it published under a pen name, and soon it was a popular crime novel. I wrote a sequel, in which Jenny and Eric found out about the gang connection their grandparents had.

I finished school  and just wrote. It was therapeutic really, writing the novels. Made me focus.

I also found out that for some reason, Voltage Amemix had never made Astoria: Fate’s Kiss or Gangsters in Love. After a period of pouting, I decided to write them into books, though with small changes for my own amusment, and in case they ever did release them.

I was 23 when my parents asked me to come house sit/dog sit. I agreed without much thought. Calfironia would be nice…

-0-

“Who is a good puppy!” I said, rubbing Ripley’s stomach. “Who is a good girl, it’s Ripley!” I giggled.

Ripley was a cute little black and white bishon shitsu my parents had gotten after our old dog, Doc, had to be put to sleep. She was a real softy, so cute and fluffy.

“Woof!” I laughed and turned to the larger dog.

“Don’t worry Seymour! You’re a good boy!” They also got a Great Dane. He was a surprise, but it was amusing. “Such good dogs!” After playing with said dogs for a while, I headed back to the house, whistling.

I liked my parent’s home. It was nice, quiet. Weirdly familiar, but nice. They had a nice guest room for me and my computers. Idly I noticed the mail, picking up a postcard from Hawaii where my parents had gone.

My parents… we rarely spoke anymore. Not after… not after everything. It was to hard, to difficult to try and get along anymore. We were just to broken.

“Do I wanna cook?” I asked myself out loud. “I could just bake some fries and call it good enough. I need to get the next chapter-“ A loud crash made me jump, Riley and Seymour yelping. I stare at the door to the backyard as it bangs open and a guy wearing a…

“Ski mask, really?” I can’t help but ask out loud, feeling my nerves get the best of me. “That’s kinda cliché man, like, wow, very cool, but you know you could have-“

“Shut up!” snapped the man, two others following him in. Seymour took off whimpering while Ripley jumped into my arms and began barking wildly at the men.

So the big dog runs, the little dog stays… lovely.

“Where are your parents?” asked the man, and I frowned.

“…Why do you need a gym owner and a mental health nurse?” the man snarled.

“Stop playing around!” Ripley snarled at him. “And shut the rat up!” I glared, feeling my heart pick up speed. I was no fighter. I worked out, did yoga, all that crap, but… not a fist fighter. And my dad- unfortunately- had gotten rid of all his guns from our farming days years back.

“Look, I’m just house-sitting for them.” I told the man who laughed mockingly.

“Oh, sure. Boys- mess this place up.” With that, they began to rip apart the house, throwing things around, smashing random vases and ornaments. I opened my mouth to say something when the front door was kicked down. I turned only to freeze.

I’d found that my memory had grown incredibly sharp since my little time travel. I could remember minute details down to a button colour. And this guy? This guy I remembered.

Chance Valentine.

…Oh fuck, I was in an Otome game.

 -0-

I hesitated, looking around. Knowing how it could all go down gave me insight. One of which was that I had no interest in being a gangster’s sweetheart. I knew they could be nice people but… I was a writer, I had a life not related to them. I wasn’t the MC, where apparently she did odd jobs and had no idea what she wanted from life.

So I had to chose carefully. Not Aurora or Yoshimitsu or Irving. Flirting made me uncomfortable in genral, and faking a relationship would irritate me.

Chance, Ash or Mateo… No, not Mateo. Flirting again. Chance… honestly, I’d end up punching him. So… Ash.

“I’d like to stay with Ash,” I said finally, scratching Ripley’s ears. Quiet, not my type at all, and the dogs liked him.

 -0-

“Thought you were ace,” Leo told me as we sat on the couch.

“Hmm?” I ask, holding onto him tightly, ignoring the others who were talking among themselves, using Leo’s knowledge to it’s fullest.

“Asexual. You used to say you were, so…” I chuckled.

“Leo, just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I can’t have a romantic relationship.” I patiently tell him.

“But… you don’t like sex!” He protests a little loudly.

“…Do you really want the sex talk?” I ask him. Leo blushes brightly but glares. “Fine. Yes, I’m asexual. I don’t give two shits about sex, though I will fully admit it is enjoyable and I don’t mind having it semi regularly with my boyfriend. But sex does not equal romance Leo. Romance is something far different- if Ash and I never had sex again I’d still love him with all of my heart.” I told my little brother firmly.

“But… what ‘bout that aro stuff?”

“Aromantic?” I asked him, sighing as I leaned my head against the back of the couch. “It means someone who does not feel romantic feelings whatsoever.”

“And you used to-“ I groaned, loudly.

“Leo, yes. I am somewhat aro. I don’t…” I frowned, trying to think. “I never went searching for romance because I never felt it important enough to do so. I would be completely fine being single for the rest of my life if Ash and I broke up. I would probably be anyway if we did. I honestly do not think I could find anyone after him,” I admitted to my brother. “Ash… I really lucked out with Ash.” I can’t keep my awed tone out of my voice. “I picked him because I knew he would drive me crazy the least. I have no idea what to do with flirting half the time- why do people do it?” I asked, confused.

“Please they think people are attractive?” Leo asked me.

“Why though? I mean, yes, I can see that they are pleasing to the eye, but… why just…” I make a hand motion vaguely. “Anyway, I knew Aurora and Yoshimitsu liked to flirt- they were flirting with me right away. I had no fucking clue what to do, so nope. Irving… well, I could have been a lawyer. I knew a few who were going to be one- no fucking thank you.”

“That bad?” Leo asked me in amusement. His eyes flickered to something and back.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered, not bringing up the fake fiancé thing that could have happened. “Chance…”

“You would have punched him.”

“Been five years and you still know me so well baby brother.” I ruffled his hair. “I chose Ash because I figured I could at least tolerate him. I never thought…” I smiled to myself. “I fell in love. And I love it.”

“What ‘bout the fed. Aren’t you flirting…”

“Fuck no!” I said. “I’m trying to get him to back off. Aren’t I doing it right?” I asked Leo who chuckled.

“No.”

“Ah, fuck.” I whined. “Seriously? I mean… okay, I guess he’s attractive I think but…”

“You have no wish to bang him?” Leo asked me, chuckling at something he saw over my shoulder.

“Fuck no. Still ace even if my boyfriend is wicked hot and I love getting down and dirty with him.”

“…Ewwww.”

“Well, you started this conversation,” I told Leo.

“…You don’t seem to happy though.” Leo said, eyes flickering again.

“Because Ash is being an idiot and I feel like I need to threaten him with a gun.” I said bluntly. “I like our relationship the way it is, but he’s convinced we need to try being ‘normal’ or some shit. I like just… beign together. Yeah, dating is nice, but we also don’t need to be Rory or Yoyo and make out every fucking where. Like… why? I really don’t want a black light in-“

“Hey!” A voice called and I went bright red as Leo laughed. I turned to see the gang- and Mateo- watching us. Yoshimitsu was pouting at me.

“Dear fucking lord I forgot you were here…” I turned and glared at Leo. “I hate you.”

“Hey, you were the one who fell for it.” Leo laughed. “…Though, the aro thing…”

“Gah!” I threw my hands up. “Technically I’m greyromantic, alright? I feel romantic feelings it’s just rare as fuck, okay?” I fall off the couch with a groan. “Can we stoooop.”

“No, I’m curious.” Aurora announced. “…Do we make you uncomfortable with flirting?” I blinked and propped myself up to stare at the gang. Ash looks as blank as ever, while Yoshimistu and Aurora are both looking at me with big eyes. Mateo looks a little embarrassed but amused.

“Yes and no? I mean- I know you don’t mean it you two. But… I will admit sometimes you push the limit, alright?” I told them bluntly. “I like it when Ash flirts, but he’s my boyfriend and I love him- that’s different.”

 -0-

“Aren’t you ace?” Leo asked me as we lay on the living room floor, both exhausted.

“Hmm?”

“Asexual, right? You said so when you were younger.” Leo told me honestly. “But your in a relationship…”

“Leo…” I sighed and sat up. “First, romance and sex are not the same. Otherwise one night stands wouldn’t happen. Second, just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I don’t like sex. I don’t feel sexual attraction, yes, but I do enjoy sex and find Rory hot, alright?” I chuckled at his face.

“You said you were aro to.”

“Greyromantic- bit different.” I told him honestly. “I don’t…” I let out a long sigh. “Romance is weird, alright? I can write it, I can read it, I can see it, but I never felt the need to search out a partner until Rory came into my life. I fell for her.” I smiled softly.

 -0-

“I am going to end up throwing my textbook at his head, I fucking swear.” I muttered under my breath. Ash chuckled from his position beside me on the couch. I was laying curled up, reading a particularly thick textbook on the management of justice organizations.

Girlfriend of a gangster or not, I was not going to quit my bachelors. Besides, Irving had agreed to let me ‘intern’ for the year long work placement. Easy.

“You’ll damage the book more then his head,” Ash said as Yoshimitsu was bickering with Aurora as usual, but it had gotten annoying enough I wanted to toss a book at him.

“I know.” I muttered, turning a page.

#gangsters in love #lovestruck #self-insert #old work #idek