#to the extent that Never Again could look like some wild hard right turn that came out of nowhere for her character

[nachosncheezies]

just thought if they had aired never again before leonard betts, as written and intended, there is almost certainly a not-so-small proportion of people who would still conclude that scully's night with ed was about her illness bc There's A Tumor In Her Head And That Must Be Making Her Act Crazy; Ain't That Great Foreshadowing

#which is really a shame #look i deeply appreciate that scully being kinda fucked up was subtle& sprinkled across the whole series like a lil dusting of cake glitter #bc she was roundly beat up and traumatized so many times as main plot points and they could EASILY have gone down the route #of making The Woman's Suffering/Feelings the third main character in every episode like so many other shows #and that really WOULD have changed her #but it's a shame that in doing so it also became something people could miss or forget about #to the extent that Never Again could look like some wild hard right turn that came out of nowhere for her character #and be something that needs some kind of external explanation #rather than being nothing more or less than exactly what she said it was: herself. circles. patterns. ✋. #ig maybe in that sense a lot of the audience is mulder lol #ed jerse doesn't need explaining 😁 she's just Like That. #x files #the x files #scully #txf #txf s4 #i'm sure i have other thoughts if the migraine leaves but this one just came and perched on my shoulder so

[geekforhorror]

Aj sneaking you to the bathroom of the club for a quickie because you're just so hot in your dress and he can't help himself

cloud nine

pairing: aj x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!aj, sub!reader, semi-public sex, quickies, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, praise, slight aftercare.

word count: 962

a/n: i’m not proud of the ending but we move!

AJ was fucked. He knew it from the minute he saw you in that dress he bought you the other day. It accentuated your figure that he adored so damn much and you looked like you were an angel sent from heaven just for him.

And that’s how you ended up in the club bathroom with him. He had finally had enough of the dress taunting him. He thought he could show some self restraint and wait until you guys got home to your shared apartment in the city.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Currently, he was kissing you as if he was a man starving. I mean, he was…to a certain extent. He always craved you, but not as bad as he did right now. For gods sake, he had gotten hard while you were still partying with the gang. Thank god for shitty lighting.

He slips his tongue down your throat, which causes you to moan into his mouth. God he was too good at this. Your hands find their way to his belt, now fumbling with the intricate garment. Without breaking the kiss, he undoes it with his own two hands before forgetting about it entirely. He unzips the zipper and drops his pants to the ground. You looked down at his groin and god, he was harder than you had ever seen him before.

“See what you do to me, doll?” he whispers, now breaking contact with your soft lips. “I want you.”

“Then take me,” you say breathily, your voice full of lust and temptation.

That was more than enough for him to go wild. Before you knew it, he began to bunch your dress up just above your hips before he was met with your soaked panties. Fuck.

“My girl’s so soaked f’me already,” AJ coos.

“Only for you, Jay,” you answer.

“Atta girl,” he praises. He sinks to his knees before sliding your ruined panties off of your cunt. You step out of the see through fabric before he tosses them aside.

“Can’t wait any longer baby,” he says. Without any warning, he hoists you up against the wall of the bathroom stall, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You ready, baby?” he asks you.

“Please Jay… fuck me already,” you plead.

Those were the only words he needed.

He suddenly stuffs himself inside your tight walls, earning a gasp from you. Usually he would build up to this moment with his fingers or his masterful mouth, but there was no time for that. He was sure the boys were getting more suspicious by the second, so he couldn’t waste any time.

“Oh fuck… feel so full,” you pant.

“That’s how we like it, angel,” he teases with a smirk.

With that, he takes initiative to finally move inside your pussy. Sounds of skin slapping skin now fills the room, but neither of you can even bother to care. His hips collide with yours as he jerks himself farther into you. You could feel his cock brush again your oh-so sensitive nerves and it only made you want him to go harder. AJ always knew what made you feel good, which was made evident every time he was seated balls deep inside you.

“Fuck Jay!” you scream out. See, he would usually cover your mouth, but his need to fuck you overpowered any lingering thoughts he had in this moment. And if he was being honest… it turned him on even more.

“Squeezing me so well, baby…such a good girl,” he praises into your ear. He surprises you because just when you thought his thrusts couldn’t get any more erratic, they do. You whine in pleasure— music to his ears. He was fucking you as if his life depended on it.

“Harder!” you let out.

“My good girl wants it harder? As you wish, darling.” he teases.

He does as she demands and lets out a moan exit his lips. “Can’t get enough of you… never will,” he enunciates between thrusts. “You’re all mine.”

“Yes all yours!” you whine.

“Glad to hear it, baby,” he says. He was moving so fast that you could feel every single inch of him with every minute he remained inside your pretty little pussy.

“M so close!” you say full of desperation.

“Want to cum on my cock, sweet girl?” he implores, already knowing the answer.

“More than anything! Please Jay…”

“Anything for my girl,” he says with a gentle voice.

He continues to mercilessly thrust into you, despite his thrusts becoming sloppier. You felt every single inch of his cock hollowing out your insides and could feel the hot coil in your stomach forming as he did. You knew what was coming.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me…let go for me, yeah?“ he says. It only takes him a few more thrusts before she releases all over his cock and jolts around him. He continues thrusting into you until he rides out his orgasm.

“You did so good for me sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. Your chin is now resting on the crook of his neck and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you still looked. Your hair was more messy than it was before and your eyes had an angelic look to them. He just wanted to stay here forever and admire your features, but he knew he couldn’t right now.

“We should get dressed.” he suggests.

AJ gathers your clothes along with his. Once the both of them finished getting dressed, Peter presses another firm kiss onto her lips. Both of you melt into the kiss, feeling nothing but pure love. Seconds pass by before he pulls away and caresses her hair.

“Let’s get back to that party,” he says.

#aj smut #aj takers smut #aj takers #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #star wars #anakin imagine #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin star wars #star wars fandom #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin fic #star wars fanart #james kelly #anakin x you

[luimagines]

He Realizes That You Like Him Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Wild and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Time

He realized that you liked him faster than he’s ever going to tell you to your face.

Time knew that he was attractive to an extent. It’s not as if he hasn’t had people interesting in him. He just wasn’t interested in them.

But he’s had enough experience to see the signs.

Naturally, he wanted to write it off at first, thinking that perhaps he was just seeing things. However, there’s only so many times that he’s willing to brush things off as coincidences. 

Time could see your soft blushes, the way you glanced his way when you thought he wouldn’t notice. He noticed how you seemed a little nervous around him but still wanted to be nearby. You paid more attention to him than the others. You took into account his needs and wants and tried everything in your power to make this whole ordeal easier for him.

He could see it all.

But it was really when you admitted, albeit absentmindedly, that he was your favorite of the group that he felt as if he could whole heartedly close the case. There was no more room for doubt after that.

He’d have to admit, he felt a little better about himself in that moment. He even cheekily teased by getting close to your personal space. You held your breath as you waited to see what he’d so next. Your poor heart was beating so hard he could see the faint thump on your chest.

He grinned and smiled at you, leaving you there to gather your wits.

If Time was being honest, he felt like a dumb struck idiot. The amount of sheer will power that it took to not break out in a grin and start giggling like a fool was more than he thought he was capable of.

You were, thankfully, none the wiser, even when you chased after him, demanding he explain himself to you.

But what could he say? It’s not as if he could have put everything on the table and pour out his soul then and there. The others were still present and he knew that were never going to let him live it down if he did that. Besides, he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

You were simply irresistible, if a little too easy to tease.

But you liked him.

You liked him.

Whenever Time has to think about it, he has to fight off a boyish smile from your face. He should be better than this. He’s an adult. It shouldn’t make him dissolve into a giggly, giddy teenager all over again.

But it is an incredibly lovely thought, isn’t it?

He sighs to himself all over again as he thinks about you.

Incredibly lovely, indeed.

Wild

Wild could be a bit dense at times but he was still smarter than most people gave him credit for.

He knew... that you acted different around him but he would be the first to admit that he couldn’t figure out why. You seemed to get along with everyone. And don’t get him wrong, you both got along well as well, but there were times when you couldn’t quite meet him in the eye or seemed to be nervous when he got too close to you despite the fact that he wasn’t doing anything.... Unless he was.

But you would have said something to him, right? You both virtually hung off of each other at times, so he can’t see the connection or what makes some different than others.

There was a moment where he had remembered that your favorite food and you looked to be having a bad day. Now Wild was never good with words, but he hoped that a good meal of something you liked would help turn it around.

So he made the meal and gave it to you. It seemed to do the trick and Wild was happy to leave it at that.

But then you came to him with a shy expression and a blush on your face the next day.

Admittedly, it had taken his breath away. It was so incredibly soft. So tender. Wild had to fight himself to stay neutral and keep his hands to himself this time around.

He smiles at you and he thinks he sees your soft blush grow darker. “Hey. What’s up?”

It takes a beat for you to build up the courage to say what you wanted to say, but that’s ok, Wild thinks. He’s willing to wait for as long as you need him too. You cough and scratch your cheek. Wild notices that you keep one of your hands behind your back. “I... came to say thank you... For yesterday. You didn’t have to do that.”

Wild smiles brighter. How cute. “It was my pleasure. I’m glad you felt better afterwards.”

“Yeah...” You agree quietly. “I did... um.. Here... I wanted to give to you...”

You hold out a flower.

Wild’s heart get stuck in his throat. He recognizes this flower.

A blue nightshade.

Where did you even find this?

Recognition triggers at the back of his head to the time when he brought a blue nightshade to Wabbin at Lover’s Pond. He told you that story. Had you remembered it? 

Wild takes the flower between two of his fingers, studying it with quiet awe. You grin and are quick to make your get away. “Anyway! That’ll be all. I lo- appreciate everything you do! Ok bye!”

Wild stares after you silently, wondering when exactly his heart started beating out of his chest.

Does... does he thinks this means what he thinks it means?

Hyrule

Hyrule knew that he liked you for a while now. Your charm, your grace, your wit, your sass- It was all very attractive to him.

But that being said, he knew he wasn’t exactly a catch. There were plenty of reason that he could think of for you to choose literally any other person. 

It was just a fact, so he didn’t want it to bother him too much. He was still happy with your friendship and you were an awesome person through and through.

That being said, every doubt in the existence of doubts would circle around his head whenever he thought about telling you how he felt. It could never be that easy though, could it?

He was never going to pick up any hint you could have thrown at him. He was never going to pick on anything subtle or small that you could have thought of to try and show that you would have reciprocated his feelings. 

It would take something huge.

It would take something obvious.

It would take something that he wouldn’t be able to deny no matter what was thrown at his face.

“Hyrule.” You said softly. You had taken him aside from the group for a moment with soft blush to your face and an nervous expression. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Hyrule stood at attention, wondering what ti could have been that had you so nervous to tell him. It must be important. you looked ready to back out any minute. He hopes you wouldn’t. Hyrule wanted you to come to him with whatever would bother you.

“What is it?” He pressed softly, wanting to show his interest in what you were saying.

You stalled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you thought about what you wanted to say. The silence was deafening. Hyrule had to stop himself rom copying your nervous movement.

“I like you.”

He stills. Did he hear you correctly?

You don’t want t wait for him to twist your words into something easier to digest. “Like... a lot. I like you a lot.”

Hyrule’s still processing your words when you take a step forward and kiss his cheek. His entire mind shuts down.

“A lot, a lot.” You clarify. “You don’t have to answer right now, ok? Just... think about it?”

You almost say, ’think about me’, but that might a bit too much for the young hero to handle right now.

You clear your throat, blushing brightly at your forwardness. “I’ll... that’s all.”

You run away.

A beat passes and Hyrule explodes into a blush now that you’re out of sight. His hands come up to cover his face as he sinks down to his knees.

There’s denying that. He couldn’t even if he tried.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #god Time's is so short #but i liked it

[s-brant]

Over Again

As a socialite in Manhattan, Y/N had the perfect life— wealthy parents, a tight-knit group of friends, and talent as a world renowned figure skater. But, everything changed when she decided to end her life after witnessing a traumatic event. Someone pulled her back when she tried to jump in front of an oncoming train. Newly released from inpatient psychiatric care, Y/N gets more than she bargained for when the man who saved her life reappears. (or the fake dating figure skating au)

22k (18+)

Warnings: strong language, suggestive themes, mental illness, depictions of obsessive compulsive disorder, described suicide attempt, described murder, described anxiety-induced starvation, and substance use.

-

June was the month of suffering.

The open, fresh air—well, as fresh as it could be in the city that never sleeps nor picks up garbage—was a shock to her system. Two weeks passed since she last got the chance to be outside and breathe fresh air, and it was even more overwhelming than she imagined it to be.

The facility is two miles from her apartment building, so she didn't let them call her a cab on her way out of the door. No, she walked out onto the street with pap bags filled with her personal belongings hugged to her chest and refused to look back. That proud bravery quickly dwindled the closer she came to her apartment, and now...

She stands frozen at the front steps of her building.

No one prepared her for how hard this would be. Not truly. Simply being able told, "The adjustment back to being home may cause some breakthrough anxiety," was not enough. Even as she forces her feet to take one step after next to the front door, she doesn't know if she'll ever be ready.

Familiar faces pass in her periphery with polite smiles pasted onto them on the trip up to the apartment that has been paid for by her parents in the time since she ditched her job a month ago. A month. Such a short span of time yet an eternity in the prison of her fractured mind. June was the month of suffering. July, however, has yet to reveal the full extent of its plans for her.

The unlocked door to the two-bedroom apartment slams shut with a kick of her foot against it, and she is instantly hit with a heart-clenching wave of pain at the sight of the home that is little more than a tomb to her in June's aftermath.

"In and out," she reminds herself.

All she needs to do is drop her clothes off on her bed, change, and leave to go to the pharmacy in a matter of moments. Knowing how brief her time here is might be the only thing keeping her from turning right back around and going back to the facility she just left.

So, she makes it quick.

She doesn't even bother with putting away the old clothes her father brought to her. She cannot resist the urge to toss them in the trash.

Ruined, ruined, everything is ruined—The wastefulness brings a grimace to her face, but it's not like she can help it. What happened in here, in these rooms, and these clothes...wastefulness be damned, she'll do what she wants.

Her hair, still damp from her earlier shower, is quickly swept from her face in a clip to keep the summer heat from consuming her when she leaves for the local pharmacy whose address she gave the doctor for her prescriptions. She paused for a second before the mirror to consider her appearance, but what she finds is almost unrecognizable.

Her skin has paled in the weeks she spent in purgatory, starving and half-wild with madness as well as sleep deprivation. It leaves the dark circles beneath her eyes far more visible to the naked eye. Those lovely, once full cheeks of hers have gone gaunt, likely from the weight loss, and she can hardly stand to look at herself long enough to dot some concealer under her eyes and turn to go to her dresser.

These clothes, she thinks as she dresses in a simple pair of navy shorts and a white eyelet top, are good. They're safe, not ruined by her wearing them in the four weeks she suffered like so many of her pajamas and other comfortable clothes are.

With that, she slips into her sneakers, picks up her purse, grabs her sunglasses, and flees the rotting tomb before she can allow it to spread its deadly touch to her again.

-

CVS is surprisingly packed with people for a Friday morning when most of the population is either working or sleeping off the night shift.

She walks between the aisles, picking up random objects and setting them back down on her way to the pharmacy in the back of the shop. The small cart cradled to her side is filled with all manners of things—little trinkets, stuffed animals, face masks, and snacks that she doesn't need but desperately wants to provide herself with a much-needed dopamine rush.

She secretly prays for a long line, but once she turns the corner at the last aisle, she is only met with disappointment and anxiety.

No line.

Her chest sinks with a sigh as she steps up to the counter and unloads her cart. The worker behind the register doesn't greet her, he simply asks, "Are you here to pick up any medications?"

"Um, yeah," she says. "Full name is Y/N L/N. Date of birth-"

There's a lull of quiet during which she stands and watches him type her information into the computer. The sound of his fingertips tapping the keys is all there is to fill the silence back here.

"So, it looks like you have Prozac, forty milligrams, Seroquel, fifty milligrams, and Vistaril, fifty milligrams. Is that correct?"

Shame curls in the pit of her belly like a wriggling eel. Her eyes turn down to watch the carpeted floor, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, sounds right."

"Copay is five bucks," he says in answer.

The small black Prada bag slips from her shoulder and into her waiting hands to allow her to search for her wallet inside, but the sight of her right wrist halts her in her tracks. There it is, that blue and white plastic bracelet with her name, birthday, and further personal information inscribed on it.

Oh.

She forgot to take it off. After having it stuck to her wrist for two weeks, she didn't notice its presence upon exiting the threshold of the facility that became her home and salvation. It's ripped off and stuffed into the pocket of her shorts in a matter of seconds.

"You said five bucks?" she asks, hoping to distract the employee from her fumbling embarrassment.

He hums, which she takes as a yes and holds out a crinkled five-dollar bill plucked from her wallet.

"Here you go."

As soon as the rest of her items are ringed up separately, Evan, whose name she noted from the tag on his shirt, scurries off to the back presumably to search for the various medications waiting for her. With him out of view, she reaches into her right pocket for the wristband she stashed there a moment ago and tosses it at the trash bin behind the counter. Except, right when she throws it, Evan is coming back around the corner with three paper bags stapled together with side effect pamphlets. The plastic wristband hits the dead center of his chest. His eyes follow from where it rolls onto the ground up to the woman who threw it at him.

All she can do is shut her eyes for a long two seconds as if not seeing his perplexed expression will somehow remedy the conflict and stop her from flinging herself from the top of the nearest tall building.

Her eyes flutter open, and she says softly, "I was aiming for your trash can."

He deadpans at her.

"Sure."

Taking the medications from him and putting them in the bag with the rest of her purchases, she offers a quick, "Sorry," and practically runs out of the store.

The people walking the streets of the Upper East Side of Manhattan are, mercifully, uninterested with her frantic face and swiftly moving feet. They're far too engrossed in their conversations, walks, and work phone calls to spare any energy for a frazzled young woman such as herself.

She makes it all of ten steps before her phone's shrill ringtone interrupts the symphony of passing cars, mindless chatter, and chirping birds. With one hand, she unzipped her purse and fishes the device out, but, of course, it slips out of her hand and clatters on the sidewalk before she can answer it. Her head tilts back to face the vibrant cerulean sky, decorated sparsely with clouds, and a heavy sigh falls from her.

There's a second or so where she considers letting it go to voicemail and finding herself a nice, tall building, but the name on the screen indicating who's calling is too alluring to ignore.

She crouches down and picks it up, sliding her thumb across to accept the call.

"Ella," she says by way of greeting. "How'd you know I got out already?"

The sound of her best friend's giggle makes the smile on her face a little less fake. Ella is the only one of her friends that she told about where she went for the past two weeks, if not because she trusts her with her life, then because she would've gone insane without a friend to call amidst the boredom.

Y/N spent a half hour on the phone with her once she was on the better half of her recovery and stifled a giggle when one of the nurses scolded her for staying on the line for more than ten minutes. Needless to say, she didn't hang up. She just pressed her back closer into the wall of the alcove where the phones were mounted to beige cinderblock walls quite reminiscent of a college dorm.

"Your dad texted me," Ella says as though it's obvious.

This causes Y/N to take a second of pause.

"Wait," she says, brows furrowing even though her friend cannot see her expression shift. "Did he put you up to something?"

The silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes.

"Ella!"

She can practically see the bright smile splitting open Ella's face by the specific sound of her deep belly laughter, finding it much harder to fake annoyance in the wake of it. This is always how it's been—Ella and her dad conspiring together to find a way to brighten her darkest nights.

"We may or may not be going to a male strip club with Anna and Rosemary to celebrate your freedom tonight," Ella whispers as if she fears her best friend jumping through the phone to chase her around her apartment.

She asks, incredulous, "My dad told you to take me to a strip club?"

The following gasp almost makes her face crack into a smile much like the one that crossed Ella's face seconds ago. God, she missed her so much. Just the sound of her voice erases the bad June memories that haunted her on the way out of her building.

"Absolutely not." There's the sound of her husky barking for attention in the background. "He just told me to host a girl's night to welcome you back to society." To answer the question Y/N is sure to ask, she says, "Don't worry, they don't know. I told them you went on a long vacation."

"Long vacation, my ass"—this draws out another boisterous laugh—"more like I went fucking crazy."

"Eh, they don't need to know that."

The trees planted in the small, iron-wrought cages along the sidewalk are lush with hues of green, in full vivid bloom in the mid-July climate, and she can't help but notice how the heat makes her throat close up. Fall, spring, and winter are far more preferable in her opinion. All that the sweltering summer heat does is keep her trapped and nervous, looking over both shoulders in search of the phantom hands that hold her hostage. Then, there's the new, open wound that was June, and it provided her the ultimate negative association with her least favorite season.

On one hand, going out with her friends sounds inviting. On the other, she has to be back on the ice training with Coach Godnev and Chris, her partner, in two days. Perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea to spend what little time she has partying.

"Okay, I'll go," she says, "on one condition."

"And what is that?"

"You let me sleep over tonight."

-

Needless to say, Ella has managed to drag Y/N, complaining and yawning due to her nighttime dose of meds, out to meet their other friends at a hole-in-the-wall male strip club. It's ten at night, and she pulls at the short hem of the dress her best friend picked out on her behalf in hopes to potentially "entice a hot stripper for the night." All that was given in response was a scoff.

The club opened thirty minutes ago, so, as far as the crowd filing into the front door goes, it's rather small. Which, she supposes, could also be a result of it not being a popular strip club. Part of her wonders how Ella even found this place.

To its credit, it's quite clean, the staff has been friendly, and the virgin jalapeño "margarita" clasped in her hand wasn't too pricey. Not that it matters much to her. Having lived her whole life in this city, even staying behind when her parents retired to Charleston, South Carolina to live a quieter life without their freak daughter, she is accustomed to outrageous prices for cocktails. Although, now she doesn't have to worry about it seeing that she cannot drink on her meds. Some people at the facility said they do so anyway, but her stubborn brain takes anything it's given as a hard rule, so she ordered herself a virgin cocktail instead.

Fluorescent purple lighting bathes her hot pink mini dress in its bright tones, leading everyone's eyes down the length of her legs.

That's another thing about her—she has never had issues with getting men to hit on her. It's not as if she ever truly invited them to do so. She, much to her parents and Ella's dismay, has never had nor wanted a boyfriend. Sure, she's made out with and done a little over-the-clothes touching with men before, but it has never crossed that line into sex or a real relationship.

A high-pitched squeal rips her from her thoughts to notice Rosemary running at her, full speed, with her arms out while Anna trails behind her, smiling. Her bottle blonde hair bounces effortlessly around her gorgeous face on the rush over, and Y/N is nearly tackled with the force of her embrace once Rosemary reaches her.

"I was gone for two weeks," she exclaims through a giggle, "not two years!"

Rosemary, most affectionately called "Rosie" by Y/N, pulls back and cups her face between her hands, plump lips pulling back to reveal her straight teeth in a wide grin that could warm the coldest people to the bone. The cool texture of the gold rings decorating her fingers is a stark contrast to the summer heat that chased them inside.

"And it was still too long! You know me, I'm a clinger. You can't leave me for that long."

Rosie stands at a height significantly shorter than most and stands up on her tip-toes to press a kiss to her cheek. It leaves behind a lipstick mark that she doesn't dare wipe away within her bubbly friend's line of sight. No one would ever dare to shun a lovely woman like Rosie's public display of affection, especially not her.

A long arm curls around the shorter woman's shoulders and tugs with a gentle force that brings Rosie's full cheek to Y/N's breast, and her willing captive makes no attempts to escape from the loving half-embrace.

She reassured her, a lump forming in the base of her throat, "I'll make sure my next vacation is just a week long."

This earns a hum of approval from Rosie, who slips out of her arm at the insistence of a pair of prying hands belonging to none other than Anna Romanus. And where Rosie and Ella come from new money of their parents' own hard work and making, Anna, much like Y/N, comes from a family whose fortune runs a century deep. But with Y/N's ancestors having founded an upscale department store chain, Anna's were oil tycoons, so her wealth is practically bottomless when compared to that of her friends. She fits the title "socialite" far more than the rest of them, and she knows it too.

She takes pride in her parents making lists in Forbes magazine and breaking barriers in businesses long owned and gate-kept by upper-class white men and, more recently in history, women.

Y/N's smile is radiant as she extends her arms to beckon her other friend into a hug, saying, "Come on, bring it in."

Ever the portrait of class and poise, Anna doesn't tackle her in an embrace as Rosie had, but she would not judge their friend for it. That is something she adores about her—her open, kind heart that doesn't pass judgment on others the way many others with her class and social status would. Her lips, coated in lip gloss rather than lipstick, kiss one cheek at a time as they wrap their arms around one another. A lingering sigh of her mother's French heritage, perhaps.

"I missed you so much," Anna pulls back to look her in the eyes as she says it.

"And I missed you. Remind me to call more the next time I leave the country."

This causes Anna, Ella, and Rosie's matching grins to widen, and the latter of the three takes her hands in her well-manicured one to drag her in the direction of their reserved table with their friends walking by their sides.

Rosie squeezes her hand and says, "I need to see pictures! I wanna help you plan your photo dump."

Her stomach drops into the pit of her abdomen.

Fuck. How had she not thought that out? Who goes on a vacation, even a solo one, and doesn't take a single picture of where they went? Her thoughts begin to race as she searches for something, anything, to say as an explanation for why she didn't take a million photographs as she always does no matter where she goes. They're going to know. They're going to put two and two together and figure out about her illness, about what happened two weeks ago when she—

"It was a spa retreat, actually," Ella swoops in to offer an explanation with unwavering confidence. "They take your phones and computers. It's supposed to connect you with nature and increase productivity or some shit like that."

The weight of the entire world is lifted off of her shoulders at this. Thank God for Ella. Who knows where she'd be without her quick wit and warm disposition? All she can do is nod along with a stupid smile on her face and pray that it's convincing enough to fool the people who know her best in this world. It feels slightly wrong, like not telling them about such an important event in her life is somehow a great betrayal they may never forgive her for should they discover it.

Once again, shame threatens to eat her alive.

"Come on," she says, jerking her head in the direction of the reserved table. "Let's go have fun, ladies."

That's all that needs to be said for Rosie to continue dragging her along, weaving in between the tables near the front of the small stage. The girls urge her to take the seat directly in front of where the men will dance once the lights dim down more and the show begins. Once they're seated, the three of them catch Y/N up on everything she missed on her "no technology allowed retreat", most of it consisting of petty family drama and someone who went to their private school that announced their pregnancy online. And, of course, she does her best to listen and nod along as though any of it matters to her, but she can't bring herself to truly care.

Before what happened, she loved going out and gossiping over drinks with her friends, but, now, she feels removed from it. Despite hearing and responding to everything being said, she could quite easily fade away from existence and disappear into the night without putting up much of a fight. But what else can she do except sit and allow it to occur? It's not like she can do anything to help it at this point. Her intake appointment for outpatient care is scheduled for two days from now, so she'll be at the mercy of her swaying moods until then.

She does pick up on the tail end of Rosie's story, though.

"...and I told him I didn't do that kind of thing. Like, I'm not a side piece, and if you're gonna disrespect me by assuming I'd be down with that, then fuck you," she says, shaking her head and raising her drink to take a sip. "Why the fuck would I take part in you cheating on your girlfriend? Who raised these men?"

Y/N offers a quiet, "That's fucked up," at the same time Ella says, "Not their dads," which makes Anna laugh so hard, she needs to stop drinking her Cosmopolitan.

"Oh, you're right. They were technically raised by mommy who thinks they're a perfect little angel who can do no wrong, but they're actually raised by the nanny who tries their best to teach him to be a good person, but all the money and privilege gets to his head and makes him think he can do whatever the fuck he wants—"

Rosie's rant on pampered, upper-class men is abruptly cut short by the music that turns louder from the DJ booth across the room. The lights dim so the only lighting is that of the fluorescent purple LEDs, and there's a chorus of high-pitched cheers from every table in the building, including the table they sit at. For the sake of entertaining it and pretending to be having a good time, Y/N cheers alongside them enough to convince them before settling back down into her seat and taking a swig of her virgin cocktail to soothe her as though it's an alcoholic one.

Another thing about the past month that has sucked: her sex drive is non-existent. Coming to a place like this or even watching pornography does nothing for her. Her mind is far too concerned with its various fixations and anxieties to allow her to feel something as trivial as lust right now, but, for tonight, she doesn't mind pretending for the sake of making Ella feel better about her current state of mind.

Behind the curtains hiding backstage from the patrons of the club, she sees the movement of multiple feet scuffling on the floor, then, a second later, a man comes through. For a split-second, the cheering and clapping from her friends almost makes her smile as he walks down the stage to where they're seated, but she can't. Her face goes still, frozen in time, when she sees him up close.

She'd remember that face anywhere.

The curve of his nose, his pink lips, and sea-foam irises that were burned into her memory when she first saw them two weeks ago. Not just his face either but the tattoos; patchwork style down the length of his bare arm, the arm that reached out and—

Those familiar eyes meet her gaze, and she can sense the recognition in them. Oh, God, he remembers. He remembers, and it's going to ruin the whole night if she doesn't

"Bathroom," she blurts out and stands from the table with a shy, placating smile to keep Ella from following her.

Somehow, she doesn't know why, it works. It works well enough that Ella gives her a single nod and allows her to turn on her heels to walk off toward the restrooms that, conveniently, are placed beside the front entrance to the club. She pretends to be the calm, confident woman she once was before her little death, meeting the eyes of everyone who looks her way, until she turns around the corner and allows herself to break down. The expression on her face falls the second she is out of view of her friends, and she doesn't bother to answer the bouncer who asks her what's wrong on her way out. At this point, everything else around her has collapsed and turned to debris that clutters her mind to an extent that prevents her from thinking clearly.

The fresh air hardly even helps because it's too hot. It's stifling. It wraps around her throat and puts pressure on her windpipe, sucking the air from her lungs until she's sobbing and heaving in front of the innocent passerby's that stare in horror at her freakish display. One hand braces against the brick wall, not even caring in the midst of her panic that it is very likely dirty, to keep herself from slumping over into it as her balance begins to waver.

Anxiety is as much a physical thing as it is an emotional one for her. Her chest muscles tighten up involuntarily and feign the feeling of not being able to breathe, her body flushes with heat, and her stomach churns with discomfort. It opens its bloody maw and tries to swallow her down, bones and all, but she has refused to let it. Other than the one time she tried to surrender to it, she has been steadfast in maintaining her resistance to it and will do anything to escape. She'll claw her way out until she has fangs and talons suitable enough for the job, and it won't destroy the feeling, but it surely will abate it.

She hasn't a clue how many minutes have passed by the time she begins to breathe deeply, purposefully making them last three seconds on each inhale, pause, and exhale as she'd been taught at the facility. Whether it has been ten minutes or ten hours, she isn't sure, but it had to have been some decent length of time because of whose hand reaches out to tap her shoulder.

Y/N whirls around, stumbling a little, and finds the man on stage looking at her through furrowed brows and concerned eyes. Fully clothed.

"I—"he falters on what to say at first, then offers, "M'sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, and I know I'm probably the last person you wanna see right now. I just wanted to know if you're okay. We have water inside. I can take you in through the back so your friends don't see if that's what you're worried about."

Her head is spinning. She doesn't even know what may come out of her mouth, but all she knows is that he's right.

He is the last person she wants to see right now. Every glance she makes at him brings memories rushing back; the sound of the train's whistle, the toes of her sneakers hanging off the edge of the platform, people too far away to stop her screaming in shock, and, at the last second, a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist and hauling her to safety. The body to which those strong arms belonged was so warm against the frail frame of her body that often shivered from the extent of her malnourishment. And only once the train passed had he loosened his grip and allowed her to turn to see him, to take in the unforgettable face and tattoos that identified him tonight.

Right when most people would've screamed or swung at him for ruining everything, she just stared. She started with wide, watering eyes until her knees gave out beneath her and sent her body forward into his to seek shelter. His hand cradled the back of her head, rested on his shoulder, as she sobbed hard enough that both of their bodies shook from the sheer force of it. And he didn't only allow it to happen, he made an effort to soothe her. The hand holding her head to his chest stroked her hair as he murmured soft words she can no longer remember.

There's a lightning strike of anger within her sparked by the sight of his face, but her words don't match her feelings. The need for safety, for the same security she found in his arms two weeks ago, outweighs her will to be stubborn by far. Humans are programmed for self-preservation above all, so when she sees him standing there, she can't do anything but nod. He holds his hand out to her the second she does.

And she takes it.

-

The man who saved her life guided her around the back of the strip club with his hand in hers. Harry—he told her his name—asked before he took her hand, but the contact was still as jarring to her as it would've been had he not. The reason he was holding her hand, he explained, was to get her into the employee area without security stopping her, assuming she was following him inside. Which, he said matter of factly, had happened to workers here before.

At first, when she allowed him to lead her down the dark alley between the two buildings, she almost began to question her judgment based on her mom and dad's teachings for her to be vigilant and always prepared for men to take advantage of her, but, she figured, he saved her life. If he wanted her dead or worse, he probably would've done it already. It was proven by the time that he opened the back door to the club and held it open for her that he wasn't, in fact, an axe murderer.

Nobody stared, either. When he walked by hand in hand with her, none of the other men getting ready or resting between dances looked at her tear-stained face or make faces at the sound of her panting breaths. They simply kept doing what they were doing without paying them any mind, providing them with privacy as he led her to a more secluded part of the room.

It's an alcove with a comfortable lounging chair fitting perfectly into it, and she sighs in relief as she sinks onto the cushion, taking the bottle of cold water he procured from thin air in the short time it took her to sit down.

"Take small sips and keep breathing. The cold helps a lot, I've found," he says as he pulls a stool up in front of her chair and settles down onto it. Those unforgettable eyes remain fixed on her, watching the rise and fall of her chest even out. Watching her take a tentative sip from the chilled breath plastic bottle that soothes her nerves to hold, let alone drink from. "Good. Just like that."

She doesn't know if it's because of what happened the last time they were together or not, but the sound of his voice relaxes her tense body. It crawls along the muscles of her chest and wills them to stop contracting, and they do. They listen to his request, providing her with a sense of relief now that the worst of the panic has been overcome. Still, Y/N slips her bag off her shoulder and finds the pill she dropped inside, just in case, to take with the water given to her.

There's a beat of silence, then—

"Um. Y'can stay here as long as it takes to feel better. I have to get back out there in ten minutes, but I can leave you alone now if you'd like."

Despite how badly she wishes to respond with words that will chase him to the other side of the room, her mouth will not cooperate. She cannot bring herself to banish him when he's being so kind. Not to mention, even though her mind urges her to isolate, his presence alone is calming, so it couldn't hurt to keep him around for a little while.

"It's okay," she says, "You can stay. Thank you..."

From his perspective, she doesn't look much different than she had two weeks ago. Her hair frames her face with a beauty that verges on being otherworldly. A weeping angel, he thinks to himself before it can be helped. It's the same thought he had when she sobbed in his arms on the subway platform, wondering how the poor girl ended up in a situation like that. Right now, she hugs her knees to her chest like she had once hugged him, trembling like a leaf in the wind and using him as her lifeline. Her sole remaining connection to the universe she once thought had forsaken her.

The sound of her voice speaking again so soon stuns him to silence.

"I can't believe it's you." She looks at him without balking from his gaze this time, head tilted to the side a little, and he can feel himself surrendering to her in response to the commanding presence that emanates from her. What he doesn't know is that she too is shocked by her honesty. "I don't even know how to thank you for it. Sometimes, I don't even want to." Her head shakes at this as if the action will clear the negative thought she voiced. "Sorry, that was dark. You're not my therapist. You don't need to hear these things."

He's already shaking his head.

"No," Harry says, eyes softened with a sympathy she interprets as pity, "I mean, I almost saw you do it already. Hearing about it doesn't bother me." A pause. "And y'dont need to thank me."

To this, she scoffs.

"You literally saved my life, how could I not thank you for that?"

His response stuns her to silence this time.

"And y'said yourself that didn't want me to, so you don't have to thank me. I don't need you to. If you wanna hate me for it, that's fine too."

Y/N shrugs.

"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I haven't really decided yet, but I guess I must wanna be here if I haven't done anything like that again," she says softly, then glances up from the floor to look at him.

"Good."

There's a strange, built-in sense of honesty and vulnerability already established between them due to the nature of how they met, and neither of them knows how to feel about it. There's a level of comfortability that shouldn't exist between total strangers, yet here they are, bonded together by the trauma she inflicted on the both of them, and he can't seem to blame her for any of it. Nor can she blame him for deciding to stop her from jumping. It's not something you blame or thank someone for, it's a moral responsibility.

The sounds of the other men talking around the corner bring her out of the haze the eye contact with Harry has put her under, and she realizes, after everything they've said to one another, that she never formally introduced herself to him.

Her arm extends to offer him her hand.

"Y/N L/N."

For the first time since they've met, his lips curl into a smile at her. His hand is warm in hers when he takes it in his larger one, fingers wrapping around the side of her palm to give it a shake.

"Harry Styles."

Their hands go up and down even as she tilts her head in curiosity. It hasn't even clicked with her that he's succeeded in distracting her from the overwhelming panic she initially felt when seeing his face. No, she's far too caught up in analyzing him to pick up on it.

"Interesting name," she says, then corrects the hypocrisy before he has the chance to do so himself. "Although, I don't know any other Y/N's. The same could be said about me."

Still shaking her hand, he says dryly, "We could start a club."

"We could, couldn't we?"

At last, their hands drop back to their laps, and they're stuck this way for another few seconds before snapping out of it again.

He stands from the stool and picks it up in one hand to move it to the side, out of the way of her path should she get up to leave in his absence. Her eyes track every movement. They pick up everything from the subtle flexing of his biceps when he moves the chair to the way he fiddles with his rings once his hands are free again. His foot taps to the beat of the song thumping in the front of the club too, and she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before she can stop herself.

"Do I make you nervous, Harry?"

Based on the expression he makes alone, she guesses he didn't expect her to notice. Or, at least, he hadn't expected her to comment on it even if she had. His brows are raised enough to bring a crease to the middle of his forehead as he looks down at where she sits, perched on the chair with one leg now crossed over the other. That stare lingers a touch too long on her legs, but she pretends not to notice. That is something she will let him get away with. That is something she doesn't want to get into because she will lose the upper hand if she does.

He laughs nervously, shaking his head. A tendril of wavy brunette hair falls onto his forehead with the jerking movement.

"No, you don't."

A lie. They both know it. He knows she knows he knows it.

Y/N then stands from the chair, smiling at him, and squares her shoulders as if in preparation. Their height difference when she stands shifts the power dynamic that lived between them while he stood and she sat. He's one inch taller, so with her standing, neither of them truly has the advantage, and with how she's put him on the spot, he can't deny how intimidating she is. It's intriguing, to say the least.

"Well, good," she says. "Cause I need you to walk me back to my table and pretend to be into me so my friends don't suspect anything." In response his brows raising after he'd just relaxed his face, she explains in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "Only one of them knows."

The bold request catches him off guard, so much so that he cannot do anything other than nod and lead the way to an entrance that isn't the one to the stage.

As they pass through the door, he takes her hand in his not only to guide her but to play into the facade she wants to put on for her friends. It causes her stomach to flutter with butterflies even though she knows it's all pretend. She's human, after all, and he's an amalgamation of every lovely trait and feature human beings can have. She knows, due to her celibate and secluded nature, that her friends will be too excited to see past their careful performance.

He feels her hand squeeze harder with every step they take toward her table and turns his head to say to her, "Relax. Just go with it."

And, somehow, that works.

The walk to where her friends sit is shorter than she expected, so when he steps her a few feet away, she's too overwhelmed to do anything but follow his lead.

Harry drops her hand to cup her flushed face in his, and her breath hitches in her throat at the cold feeling of his rings digging into her cheeks. Their faces are close enough that she can feel the heat of his exhales, their noses almost brushing as she instinctively leans into the warm, solid body in front of her, and he's kissing her before she can get a single thought in.

The music goes in time with the thunderous beat of her heart that is pushed into a swift pace the second their lips meet. His mouth tastes of mint, gin, and citrus, likely from the drink he was indulging in backstage before he left to check on her. Beyond the pleasant flavor coating his lips, as well as the tip of the tongue that pokes out to prod teasingly at her full bottom lip, it's one hell of a kiss. The only other time she's been kissed was with a boy from school, and she didn't quite like that, so Harry is the defacto winner without having to try.

Y/N chases his mouth without meaning to when he pulls away, and he is quick to offer another peck to her lips before pulling back from her entirely, holding her at a distance with a casual strength that pleases her more than she'd like to admit. Her eyes open to see his face a few inches from hers, and he smiles. It's a sensual smile. The kind she's never gotten from a man and taken pleasure in rather than resented until this very moment. Looking into his eyes, she doesn't even remember that her friends are sitting at the table nearby. Her blood echoes the feeling of the kiss with each pump of her heart that brings it flowing around her body. She feels it everywhere.

His thumb brushes over her lips in a calculated move that aims to show a certain degree of intimacy to their audience, and he says, "I'll see you Wednesday."

She nods along like the dumb, hopeless fool she is and tries not to regret asking him to do this for her. It seemed a great idea backstage, but with a kiss like that and a face like his, her friends will never stop hounding her about the handsome stripper who broke through her previously impenetrable heart in less than fifteen minutes.

Blind to the three women gawking at them behind her back, she waves him goodbye and says, oblivious to the fact that she has now lost the upper hand, "See you Wednesday."

-

"Tell me!"

Y/N groaned at the sound of Rosie's voice, begging her for what must've been the thousandth time, to relay every detail of what happened between her and Harry.

Shortly after she sat down, they all pounced on her and asked millions of questions that she said they could talk about later. Well, later arrived and she still didn't know what to say. How would she explain to them how she went to the "bathroom" and ended up going backstage with him somehow? The story made no sense as she thought it over, but they bought it nonetheless. She forced herself to wield the confidence she felt in every other aspect of her life to spin a lie that wouldn't unravel under the slightest bit of pressure.

"I was coming out of the bathroom and almost got run over by him," she said. "He helped me up and let me sit backstage for a few minutes 'cause he felt so bad about it."

Anna leaned forward with her pillow clutched to her chest, anticipating some great rom-com moment. And she gave her one.

"We hit it off, and he asked me out on Wednesday." It's said that lies are most believable when there's a hint of truth to them, so she tested that theory out. "I definitely didn't see that kiss coming but I'm not complaining about it."

The thing is, she hadn't expected the kiss at all, nor was she feeling the urge to complain about it.

But one thing was clear to her as she tried to fall asleep beside her friends in Ella's bed: she needed to keep up the facade she created with Harry to have a cover for why she isn't working or skating full time, yet has a busy schedule every week. The intensive outpatient program she had her virtual appointment with this morning is going to be three days a week from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon, so she needs an excuse, and a new boy toy is the perfect one to distract them.

With her therapy program beginning soon, she needed to get to work at securing her alibi quickly. It needed to be believable, so she made a list of things that needed to be done in her head, and the first thing on that list was to find Harry again.

After leaving Ella's place, she took an Uber and arrived at the front entrance to the strip club. Not wanting to be caught she walked around through the small alleyway between buildings and found the back door he escorted her in through the other night, and, now, she's summoning the nerve to knock.

The wind blows her hair gently from her shoulders, a cool kiss brushing against her skin to combat the summer heat that closes in on her. It provides the push she needs to raise her clenched fist and pound on the metal door hard enough to alert anyone inside of her presence. Her hand keeps banging on it for another twenty seconds before it swings open into the hallway to reveal a tall, muscular man with a scowl worn on his face.

His arm props the heavy door open as he asks, "Who are you?"

She smiles.

"Y/N. I'm just here to talk to Harry. We have a date that I need to reschedule."

The door slams in her face.

Her feet automatically shuffle back a few steps at the sound of it hitting the door frame. It's a booming sound that seems to echo despite the fact that she's presently outside, camped out waiting for a man she hardly knows in the alley behind his place of work. And though she has no right to feel such a way, disappointment floods her at the rejection. Why was she being so stupid? Of course, none of them would let her in. It's not as if they know her, and even if they do recognize her face from last night, they don't know whether Harry wants to see her again or not.

The sun beats down on her from overhead, and, while she turns to walk away, she pulls her hair away from where it crowds her face and ties it up with the scrunchie on her wrist. Much better. At least it won't stick to the back of her neck with sweat like this.

She makes it all of five steps before the sound of the heavy door opening halts her in her tracks, and when she hears his voice coming from behind her back, her lips twitch into a slight smile.

"Don said y'were asking for me?"

When she turns to look at him, she is struck by memories from that day on the train platform. His arms around her, his body pressed to hers, the sound of him yelling at her to stop before he intervened—she shakes her head as if it'll help dispel the sinking feeling that comes along with her recollection of that day. Instead of making this internal distress apparent to him, she plasters a polite smile on her face and walks back to the opened door he holds open with one tattooed arm.

She steps up as close as she can without invading his personal space, head nodding in confirmation of what he was told by his friend/coworker/whatever. Stray strands of hair dangle down to frame her face. In the sunlight, he notices how her hair seems to glow.

Her hand holds tighter onto the strap of her purse for support as if it'll do anything to aid her in navigating this odd situation.

"Yeah, I was. I wanted to talk to you about something..."

Harry's brows furrow just enough to form a crease in his forehead between them.

It takes a lot longer than she expected to work up the courage to purpose her plan to him. Not only is it an audacious idea, but he also intimidates her a little bit now. She'd never tell him that or allow him to pick up on it, but there's no denying that the man who saw her at her lowest point and deemed her worth saving is someone she wants to like her. How could she not? Even if he hadn't been the one to save her, she imagines he'd be overwhelming all the same. It's something about him—the persistent eye contact, the easy-going flow of his voice from one word to the next, or the type of work he does. It requires a confidence and thick skin very few people have.

She avoids his gaze for a second by looking down the alleyway, then to her feet, then back up at his face. Rip the bandaid off, she thinks. That's the only way to have these potentially awkward, embarrassing conversations. When she locks eyes with him again, she forces herself not to look away again.

"I wanted to thank you, actually," she says. "You really helped me last night, and I couldn't have made it believable without you. My friends won't shut up about it, so good job."

The confusion on his face regarding what she came here to discuss melts away at her appreciative words, but when he opens his mouth to tell her there is no need to thank him, she strikes again and sends him reeling.

"That's why I came here to ask you to come out with us on Thursday night. As my date."

Immediately, his head begins to shake as he tries to comprehend what's happening. He steps out into the alley completely, leaving the door to slam into its frame and offer them privacy from his coworkers listening inside. The metal is scorching hot against his back. Enough so that he can feel his skin tingle from the burning sensation before he steps away from it.

"Listen," he starts, eyes softened in a way they only are when delivering bad news. "It's not that y'aren't gorgeous, and cool from what I've seen of you, but I didn't mean the date thing literally. I have someone." Upon seeing her raised brows, assuming he cheated when he kissed her, he corrects the miscommunication. "Well, no, not someone someone. Just someone I like, and it's complicated, so, no I can't."

At first, she simply stares at him.

Here he is rambling and being apologetic while trying to let her down easily, and she stares as though she can see right through his body. What's going through her mind should be evident to him based on her face alone, but he's too wrapped up in his thoughts about Lola now that she's been mentioned to notice. Ever since he can remember from the time he met her to now, Harry has pined for her. It never mattered that she was always in another relationship with a guy completely different from him. No, all that mattered was that he loved her, and, sometimes, in the rare instances when she was single, she would do or say something that'd give him hope that she'd reciprocate that love.

Almost every girlfriend he had became jealous of her, not because he did anything to betray them, but because of how he looked at her whenever they were in the same room. And, just like clockwork, they would break up with him and cite their reason as his obvious infatuation with his friend. It was that infuriating type of repressed feeling that was strong enough for his girlfriends to sense it but not to outright accuse him of any wrongdoing. So, he hasn't had a girlfriend in months because of this. Every woman who has tried has failed to rip his attention away from her, and he has begun to suspect that he'll never feel this way about anyone but her.

Breaking him out of his daze, Y/N scoffs and makes a strange expression at his attempted rejection.

Her arms cross over her chest, head tilting to the side, and she asks, incredulous, "You think I wanna date you? I hardly even know you."

All of it—his thoughts of Lola, the memories of the day he saved Y/N, and the awkwardness felt in the wake of having to reject a beautiful woman for no reason other than his stupid, persistent crush on his friend—stops. He can't help but offer her the same strange, confused expression she gave him now that he's had a few seconds to process what she said. Harry is silent, looking at her like he'll be magically granted the ability to read her thoughts if he does it long enough, then speaks.

"Y'just asked me out..."

To this, she just shakes her head.

"No, I didn't ask you out for real," she says, almost sounding offended that he'd think she's desperate enough to track him down and beg him to give her a chance. "I don't date. It makes things too messy."

"Messy?"

"Yes, messy. Someone always loves the other person more, and it creates this weird power dynamic thing that keeps the other person trapped. Not to mention, all relationships end. Who would willingly put themselves through that just for the person to leave them in the end?"

He cannot keep himself from showing how appalled he is by her take on love and relationships. Being a romantic at heart who has believed he is destined for the one woman he's never been able to stop thinking about, he refuses to allow this to pass without debate. He simply shakes his head at her the way she had at him and leans back against the brick building, careful to avoid the metal door.

"That's bullshit," he counters. "All love ends 'cause we end. Some people stay together until they die. And, even if they don't, that doesn't mean the whole thing is pointless. It's better to have felt it at all."

She lets her head fall to avoid his gaze, and when she lifts it again, there's an amused smile spread across her face. It enrages him. To have his thoughts on love treated like they're childish or naive, like she somehow knows better than him despite never opening her heart to the experience. Those arms crossed over her breasts, clad in a thin, cropped shirt for the sake of keeping cool in the heat. Her hands smooth down the shorts she wears the second they leave her chest.

"Well, okay, we can just disagree, but let's get back to the point. I don't wanna date you because I don't date and you don't wanna date me because you have feelings for someone else. That's great!"

He stares at her with an utter loss for words.

"M'so confused..."

Her head tips back with a frustrated groan, and she steps up close to him in order to grab him by the shoulders to force him to keep his eyes on her.

"I want you to pretend to be with me."

Before he can open his mouth to ask why, she begins speaking again.

"Only one of my friends knows what happened to me this summer," Y/N, her voice quieting when she speaks of the incident that caused their paths to cross. "None of them but her know, and now I have to attend this therapy thing three days a week when I'm not busy training, so I need an alibi. Last night, you kissing me stopped all their questions about where I've been lately, so we should keep up the act."

Part of him wants to retort something snarky at her for just assuming he'll be willing to drop everything to be her fake boyfriend whenever she goes out with her friends or goes to therapy, but the kinder side of him hesitates. This woman is the same person he held on the train platform, who refused to let go of him when the paramedics arrived to the point where he had to tag along in the ambulance upon their request to keep their patient as calm as possible. In the end, the petty urge to talk back wins.

"That arrangement sounds perfect for you, but what do I get out of this? Some of us have to work for a living, and I have actual important things to do other than being at your beck and call. Just 'caused we kissed doesn't mean y'have to get attached. Find someone else."

His harsh words strike her where it hurts, but, more importantly, at the current moment, they set her blood on fire with fury. How dare he insinuate that she has grown attached to him, like she's a pathetic little girl with a crush, from what happened last night? The ego of this man needs to be studied by psychologists and neuroscientists.

She drops her hands from his shoulders and takes a few steps back to create a comfortable distance between them.

"First of all, I'm not attached to you. I know you're a romantic, but one kiss didn't make me fall in love with you. Secondly, I wasn't going to offer you nothing in return." Her eyes flicker back and forth between the entrance to the alleyway and him as though she is plotting her escape already. "If you have to work every day, I can pay your bills in exchange for your time. I have money, I won't pretend that isn't true, so I can cover your expenses while we keep up the ruse, okay? It's an economic proposition, not a relationship."

Right when she expects him to calm down, he surges ahead at full throttle, looking like he's ready to punch a wall if he were the type of man to do that. His cheeks are flushed with color as he shakes his head and turns to knock on the back door to be let in again. Before any of his coworkers can answer, he meets her gaze and speaks the words that damn her to find another excuse, another lie to push onto her friends to prevent them from knowing the truth of what happened this summer.

"I'm not a product. You can't buy me, Y/N, and I'm honestly offended that y'think you can." The door swings open behind him, and he walks through, only stopping to say over his shoulder, "Don't come back."

-

The brutal rejection she faced when trying to enact her fake boyfriend plan with Harry left her in a sour mood all night. No matter how many times Ella tried to cheer her up, she wouldn't budge. It took her best friend putting on her favorite movie, bribing her with snacks, and offering to let her rant about it to bring her down a few notches. Eventually, after talking it out and spending the night laughing alongside her best friend, what Harry said to her held little power over her mood. Her friend had been quick to say that he had a point, which he did, that she wouldn't deny, but she couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

This morning, however, she didn't think of him much at all.

Executing her typical morning routine before a day of practicing on the ice helped soothe her nerves, making her return to it feel less like an event. It didn't feel the same as it used to, however, and, as she made herself protein pancakes for breakfast and listened to Ella rambling about her latest workplace drama, she began to fear that it never would.

This strange headspace she was pushed into by what she witnessed in early June feels permanent. It feels like her life could be divided into two distinct categories—before and after. It has been difficult as of late to grapple with the knowledge that nothing may be the same again. Grieving for an old version of yourself is nasty work, and it's lonely as well. Sometimes, she feels like she's standing alone on the edge of the universe, teetering there to see how far she can push it before she goes over.

The rink's low temperature soothes her now as she bends over to lace up her skates. Her throat can't help but tighten up at the familiar feeling, and she feels like an imposter as she goes through the motions of what her life used to be. Coach Godnev is already on the ice waiting for her with Chris standing with his back to Y/N, gesturing with his hands as he speaks, likely regaling the two-week break they've been forced to take due to her hospitalization.

She stands up and enters the rink through the propped-open door.

It feels strange. That's a fact she cannot deny as she floats across the ice in the direction of Godnev and Chris as though she never left in the first place. Outwardly, no one would ever think she took time off, but, on the inside, she could never let herself forget it. That voice in the back of her head, the one that is always nagging and scolding over the smallest things, whispers to her that she isn't worth it. That if she's not better now, she never will be. But, she tries to ignore that voice. It's a little bit easier knowing that she has hours of focused exercise to do as well as people to talk to. Where most people pry and ask questions, Godnev allows her space to breathe.

Being a stoic, strict ex-figure skater from the era of the Soviet Union, she tends to keep personal questions and details of their lives out of things. She focuses with tunnel vision on the work, on the artistry, and Y/N has never been more thankful for that than right now. The only time she ever showed emotion toward her was when she was sick during a competition as a child, sniffling and suppressing coughs every other moment. When asked if she was okay, Y/N nodded and refused to let the illness get her down, and she could tell how proud her coach was of her resilience.

That is why Y/N doesn't worry about what the older woman may ask. While her parents, therapists, and Ella may treat her like a delicate glass vase that will break under the slightest pressure, Talia Godnev has unwavering faith in her ability to overcome whatever obstacle is thrown her way. And that feels good. It feels nice to know that someone in this world has faith in her. God knows she doesn't.

"Sorry," she says, projecting her voice at where her two collaborators stand without her. The cool air blows against her face, yet it doesn't disrupt the hair she meticulously styled into a bun with gel and pins. The last thing she needs is to have her hair come out when she's doing jumps. "I didn't mean to be late. I missed the subway and had to wait like ten minutes."

Coach is the first to greet her. The smile on her face is wide enough to create wrinkles around the edges of her eyes, and she opens her arms in an invitation to hug her—a rare display of affection on her part—so Y/N wastes no time skating into her embrace. Thin but toned arms curl around her shoulders, squeezing tight for a good five seconds before releasing as a silent way of telling her to pull away.

"I'm so glad you're back," Godnev says.

They both pull back from each other enough to maintain their typical areas of personal space, and it isn't until she detached herself from her that she realizes she skated right past Chris without greeting him.

"Oh shit, Chris, I'm so sorry," she says, turning around, "I blew right past you—"

Her heart drops into her stomach at the sight of the man standing before her.

"Oh."

The word leaves her before she can stop it. Her body freezes, her chest tightening involuntarily in panic and her shoulders tensing up.

The first thought she has is that this shouldn't be happening.

It feels inherently wrong, like whoever controls her universe has played a sick joke on her by taking a person from one, separate area of her life and dropping him off into another. Why would she have expected to see Harry here instead of Chris? Chris has been her partner for years. They were paired when she was eighteen, so why would someone else be here in his place? And, more importantly, why would the man who stopped her from jumping in front of a train be his replacement?

Despite this internal debate waging war within her, she is stunned to silence and cannot do anything but stare at him in awe. At least, she thinks with some semblance of relief, he looks equally as shocked as she is.

Godnev, likely sensing the energy shift but not wanting to acknowledge it, puts a hand on the small of her back to comfort her, rubbing up and down like her mother once did to her as a child when she became nervous about competing in front of people. It's the type of thing only she could get away with doing to Y/N. Not because she holds any special power over her but because she has always been a secondary mother figure to her since they first began working together.

While she and Harry stare at one another in abject horror, Godnev decides to explain what everyone other than Y/N must already be aware of.

"I wanted to tell you before today, but Chris thought it would be best to let you settle in once you got home..."

Y/N's arms, raised with goosebumps both from the chill and situation at hand beneath the sleeves of her Lululemon jacket, cross over her chest. It takes less than two seconds for her to look back and forth between the two people in betrayal. Because, to her, it is betrayal. Even though her coach couldn't possibly have brought Harry here on purpose, the reminder of what happened to her, what she's always trying to flee from, hits her like a punch to the gut.

"What is this?"

There's a certain look in Harry's eyes when their gazes meet, almost as though he's trying to communicate with her through it somehow, but she is quick to look away.

She asks again, this time more demanding, "What the hell is this? Where's Chris?"

The mere mentioning of his name seems to rattle Godnev, and she has to take a breath to steady herself before answering either of her questions. That's the odd thing about having a breakdown and going into inpatient psychiatric care. To her, the world stopped spinning. Everything became confined to the limited space she was allowed to traverse in the hospital, and, without her phone, she had no connection to the outside world. But the world didn't stop spinning for everyone. Just her.

Those deep brown eyes soften at the mixture of emotions smeared across Y/N's face, and she says, gently, "Chris is back with his family in Norway. His mother is sick, and he said he didn't want to waste his time here...he wanted to be the one to take care of her."

They both pause to carefully monitor her face for a reaction.

"So what does that have to do with him?" she asks. The news about Chris saddens her beyond belief, but it's impossible to ingest the information without questioning Harry's presence. Deep down, a part of her recognizes where this is headed, but she doesn't want to believe it. Not truly. "I"—she shakes her head—"And, I mean, how am I gonna compete without a partner?"

The looks Godnev and Harry respectively give her confirm the suspicion that was lying in wait in the back of her mind like an asp readying to strike.

No.

"Harry's partner quit a few weeks ago for personal reasons, similarly to Chris, so when his coach reached out to me for advice, I offered to make him your new partner," she says. A second later she goes on, "He's very good. You know that I wouldn't waste your talent on someone who isn't."

"We have to compete in a month to qualify for nationals...I'm sorry, but this is crazy. After all these years, all this work and trust built with Chris, how am I supposed to just let it go?"

And although Chris would have quit anyway to care for his mother, she blames herself. If she hadn't taken time off to recuperate from what happened to her, from what she saw June 1st that sent her down this road, perhaps none of this would've happened. No amount of logic can stop her from blaming the chaos of last month for this as well as everything else that has gone wrong since then.

"I know it's a big adjustment, but I've already begun training with him. You two just need to practice and work through the routine." Before she has the opportunity to interject, Godnev pushes further. "Now, let's go. We have a lot of work to do."

-

Having to pretend that she's never met Harry before today's practice has been unbelievably difficult. It's not like their coach would pry, but she'd likely make a comment on it if they seemed familiar with one another already, so they came to a wordless agreement to pretend they'd never met when formally introduced to one another. They shook hands and exchanged polite smiles like they hadn't kissed days before. And now that they're working together, they haven't said a word to one another. Not with Godnev lingering within earshot.

Thankfully for Y/N, their coach had been training with Harry for a few weeks, and he already knew the basic choreography of the free dance she practiced with Chris all year. So, they ran through the program countless times, excluding the lifts, to get a rough idea of what skating together would be like. The song she chose for it, (I've Had) The Time Of My Life by Bill Medley, has been played enough times with the paired movements of the dance that it didn't take long for her body to snap back into it, give or take a few mistakes.

It's a passionate dance. A romance based on one of her favorite movies.

Due to the nature of being someone's partner, she and Chris spent all of their time together, and even though he hated Dirty Dancing, he gladly let her make it the inspiration for their free dance for the sake of seeing her excitement. With him, the dance was fun and carefree. Although they didn't have feelings for one another, they were able to lose themselves in the routine and feign undying love for the duration of it.

Oftentimes, they'd have a difficult time not smiling ear to ear at one another and giggling throughout the whole thing, especially the part at the end where they end with their lips a hairs-width apart to symbolize that happy ending of the lovers they portrayed. The thought of them kissing had been hysterical, and it took Godnev scolding them countless times for them to take it seriously.

With Harry, it couldn't be more different.

For one, they hardly know each other and have never skated together, so the first few times they ran through the routine were fumbling and awkward in a way she hasn't been since she was a teenager. Then, of course, there's the history between them. Having to pretend to fall in love with the man who fought with her in the alley behind a strip club the day before is an impossible feat.

No amount of pretending can hide that they are uncomfortable touching each other and almost kissing at the end of the program, but they try because they have no other option. Both of their partners quit on them around the same time. The fact that their coaches managed to pair two people of equal training and talent was a miracle in and of itself. Neither of them wants to be the first to complain about what would otherwise be a gift from the universe if it weren't them specifically.

In the middle of the song, Godnev pauses the music, and they're both sent reeling, trying to stop turning for long enough to look to the older woman for guidance as to what went wrong. When Y/N meets eyes with her, she already knows what she is going to say.

"You will have to get more comfortable together." She shakes her head. "Take a five-minute break. You dance with her like you're dancing with your grandmother."

That's all she leaves them with before she spins around and skates toward the propped-open door to the rink, disappearing somewhere to get a quick drink of water or snack before the break is done. With her gone, neither of them says a word.

It's funny. The entire time they practiced up until now, she wished their coach would leave for a moment to allow her to say everything she's imagined since yesterday, but now that they're alone, they're terrified to break the silence. They feel that if they do, they'll be forced to confront reality and accept that this is real. That their lives will be intrinsically entwined as a result of this partnership from here going forward.

In the end, it's he who ends up speaking first.

"I didn't know it was you," he says after a moment.

It almost sounds like he's going to continue after that by the deep breath he takes at the end, but he doesn't. Instead, she is left to find the words on her own and find a way to make this the slightest bit professional despite, well, everything. When it comes out, it ends up sounding the polar opposite.

"Neither did I. I mean, I thought you were a stripper who moonlights as an undercover suicide prevention worker," she says with a shrug, "so I never expected to see you here."

To her surprise, despite the bad start they got off on yesterday with her offering to pay him to be her fake boyfriend, he laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. It's a sound that makes her lips twitch up with the urge to smile, which is far too rare for her as of late.

He stands a foot away, his hand on his hip, and doesn't balk from her stare as he ceases his laughter to continue speaking.

"I strip to pay rent and for this." A knowing look is cast in her direction before he turns to the direction of the door Godnev left out of. "It's an expensive sport, and not all of us are living off daddy's money."

She scoffs.

Soon, she's approaching him from behind and following him off the ice to where his water bottle is stashed alongside his tote bag, watching as he takes a sip. From his peripheral vision, he can see her sizing him up like prey, and he wonders briefly if anyone has ever spoken to her like this before. It wouldn't surprise him if they hadn't. A beautiful, rich ice dancer. Not many people would want to get on her bad side if they could help it. With people of her social and financial status, he has noticed that most people who leech off of them never say the word no.

The instant he swallows the mouthful of water, she's retorting, "Okay, first of all, the wealth is from my mother's side of the family, you sexist prick"—he laughs at this too, knowing that she is only joking to get back at him—"Second of all, I'm not ashamed of being privileged in terms of wealth. We donate every year to charities, and I'm not the kind of trust fund kid who pretends they came up the hard way."

Harry flicks a bit of water at her much like a little boy teasing girls on the playground, tilting his head in analysis of her as she leans back against the boards.

"And by we, you mean your parents, who get a nice tax write-off for all of their philanthropy, right?"

"Oh, at least play fair," she hits back in the same, childlike way he had. "So giving back to my community doesn't count cause I get tax write-offs?" Her brows raise at him in question. "I volunteer at a shelter for LGBT kids who are on the street because of their shitty ass parents. All of the prize money I get when I win goes to them, so get off your fucking soapbox and give me a break."

There's a stretch of heavy silence, then—

"You're right, I don't know you," he says softly, then meets her gaze again, "M'sorry."

This makes her pause for a second. It makes her mindful of what happened yesterday now that she has time to reflect...

"I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

She hadn't expected him to concede. Most men she's met and argued with, albeit playfully, refuse to back down no matter how backed into a corner they are. They are correct no matter what. Even Chris was like that sometimes, but, she must admit, there's something admirable about someone who will admit when they're wrong. It's a behavior she could practice more than she currently does lest her pride not get in the way.

"For trying to pay you to be my fake boyfriend. You were right. I didn't think about how insulting that must come across since I met you at your club," she says, then tries not to shudder at how she misspoke. Technically, she didn't meet him at the club, and they both know that, but he'll never correct her for avoiding such a painful memory. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just desperate."

The entire room is quiet save for their conversation. With Godnev off doing God knows what, there's no one here at the private rink to eavesdrop on their conversation. It suddenly hits her as she looks at him, struck by how he smiles with his two front bunny teeth, that being alone with him doesn't make her nervous like it does with other guys. Every guy she's met on Hinge, or who has hit on her on a night out, has made her viscerally uncomfortable, but he doesn't. It could have something to do with how they broke the ice the first time they met. Or it could be him. Maybe he's the type of person who sets others at ease without ever trying to.

It's easy to tell that he's about to say something in response, but the sound of their coach coming back into the room silences him. It causes his mouth to open and close like a fish, then open again to say to her at a low volume, "I'll do it."

This time, it's her turn to act confused.

"Do what?"

He watches for Godnev out of the corner of his eye to make sure she isn't watching, then leans against the boards beside her to allow them to talk in secrecy. They don't have much time before they're back on the ice, so he doesn't waste it.

"Date you," Harry says, and she thinks he's fighting back another smile when her eyes widen. "Your friends will know I'm your partner soon anyway." He shrugs. "Might as well."

It takes him and Godnev calling out her name to get her back on the ice and out of her trance after he leaves her there, speechless, on the side of the rink.

-

Balancing hours of therapy with hours of practice with Harry has been a challenge, not only because of the physical exhaustion she feels when she comes home and falls into bed beside Ella every night but because of the emotional exhaustion too. Every time she leaves the building where she spends most of her day listening to clinicians teaching skills and trying to work up the courage to talk about what happened to her in process groups to no avail, she feels as though she just ran a half marathon. But she can never rest. No, instead, she has to spend the rest of her day with Harry on the ice, pick up dinner on the way home, and try not to wake Ella when she enters the apartment.

Her leg bounces up and down incessantly as she waits for her clinician to come back from the bathroom for their one-on-one session while the rest of the patients are in an art group.

She busies herself by inspecting the small office. Framed photos line the walls, and on top of the desk are a multitude of fidget toys and plastic eggs of kinetic sand for patients to borrow. By the time the clinician, Tara, comes back to the room, Y/N is already paying with a pocket-sized container of putty.

"Sorry about that," Tara says with a smile, "I just wanted to make sure I didn't have to get up in the middle of the session."

Her high-pitched, lilting voice with a concerning about of vocal fry helps to soothe her nerves, coaxing her bouncing left leg into a slower pace as she watches her take a seat in the rolling chair. Blonde hair, highlights, perhaps, falls to the curves of her waist. It's the first time she's seen her with her hair down rather than the usual bun. Considering the brutal summer heat and humidity, it's not like Y/N can blame her for not wanting a blanket of hair running down her back.

"It's fine."

Tara's long nails tap away at the keyboard of the desktop computer, quickly documenting that they are meeting like they're supposed to.

"So, I know we've talked a bit, but I'm just gonna ask how your first week home has been so far?"

Those soft blue eyes never stray from her face now that their full attention is on each other. Eye contact like this would typically freak her out, but not this time. Not with her. They have talked once or twice, that's true, but they have yet to sit down and work through everything that haunts her. Until now.

Y/N shifts in her seat, crossing her legs to get as comfortable as possible while trying to do the unthinkable—open up to someone. It isn't by coincidence that Ella is the only one she told about this, or that she has never been able to have a romantic relationship. Every time someone she likes too much gets too close, her mind defaults to panic. The idea of someone knowing her, truly knowing her, the way she knows herself, is her biggest fear. It's so primal, rooted deeply in her system, that the urge to isolate herself and ghost anyone new who tries to care for her is something she acts on unconsciously.

But, with Tara, she has no other choice but to sit with that visceral discomfort rather than flee. If she ever ghosts her and skips program, they'll do a wellness check on her and send the police to her apartment, which is the very last thing she wants.

Not having a choice, Y/N says, "It's been a lot. I can't stand being in my apartment because all I feel when I'm in there is fear. You know, that was my prison. That was where my body shut down, and I stopped eating and sleeping."

The whole time she speaks, Tara nods along, only looking away to jot down a note. Her white and gold pencil gleams in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the window as it glides across the blank page. Once the note is taken, she allows it to slip out of her hand and onto the notebook, rolling until it becomes wedged in the divot between pages.

"Do you think it would help to go in there with someone you trust and try to tolerate the fear?"

She shrugs.

"Maybe. I don't know. I went back once to get my stuff and have been staying at my friend Ella's place."

"And is Ella a big part of your support system?"

"Oh, a huge part. She's the only one other than Harry who knows."

Tara's head tilts in curiosity at the mention of Harry, someone she nor any of the other clinicians heard her mention in the few groups she speaks in. Obviously, if he's one of the only people who knows about her breakdown, he must be someone of significance, and that isn't wrong. Although they hardly know each other, he may be the most important person in her life. She wouldn't be here without him, and whether she loves or hates him for it, she doesn't know.

"Who's Harry?"

A heavy sigh escapes her in the wake of that question. In preparation for what she's about to tell her, Y/N focuses on the putty being kneaded in her hands to avoid eye contact. She fears that if she looks at her when she says it, the words may evade her.

"He's the one who stopped me from jumping," she says, then shakes her head through a nervous laugh. "And now that my ice dance partner quit, he's my new partner. Isn't that so fucked up? Like, if there's a God, I wanna bare-knuckle box that fucker for doing this to me!"

For the sake of making her feel at ease, Tara chuckles softly at that last comment, and she's thankful for it. It's precisely what she needed to avoid allowing the discomfort to consume her. No more being treated like she's made of glass. Like she's broken. That's the best part of being here, she thinks. The staff and patients have all heard and lived through hellish things, so nothing can surprise them anymore.

Her leg begins to bounce at the same speed and intensity it had before. It's all she can do to release the anxiety bubbling up within as she is brought closer and closer to revealing the parts of herself she can't even share with Ella.

"Do you mind if I ask what triggered this whole situation to begin with?" Tara asks with the pencil back in hand. "It's okay if you aren't ready to, though. We can do it next time."

The following silence seems to echo in her head.

June 1st. The second-worst day in her twenty-four-year existence.

As a melodramatic teenager, she couldn't imagine anything being worse than the day she and her high school best friend ended their years-long friendship. At the time, that felt like the greatest tragedy she would experience, but, now, she would relive that day twenty times over rather than relive a single day of June. The most persistent obsessive thought she has relates to that. It wouldn't matter what the circumstances were. If she had to endure it again, she would make sure there would be no one to stop her from jumping from the train platform this time. And that terrifies her. The power these memories hold over her is immeasurable.

​​Y/N's head drops to let her stare at her lap as she tries to work up the nerve to say it out loud for the first time since being discharged from the hospital. The faint sound of screams, buried deep into the recesses of her mind, resurfaces more quickly than she is comfortable with. She had never seen a panic like she had that day in the bodega when she stopped in to purchase a bottle of water and found herself saddled with a lifetime of trauma.

"I was walking to catch the subway to the rink where I train, and it was hot, so I wanted a water bottle," she explains. At first, it sounds steady. Strong. Then, her voice can't help but soften once she gets to the hard part. "Someone was arguing with the clerk, but I didn't think anything of it. None of us in there knew what was gonna happen until it did, and, unfortunately, I turned around just in time to see him pull his gun." Her eyes glaze over with the imminent threat of tears. "He killed him. Shot him in the head two times, and I hid behind one of the fridges before he could see me. But, he didn't want any of the customers. He just shot the guy a few more times to make sure he was dead, took the money, and ran out."

The expression on Tara's face, torn between shock and secondhand heartache, tells her that she hadn't expected that to be the story told today. People's minds and bodies can shut down like hers had for many reasons, whether they appear big or small, but this was serious. This was something that she'll never be able to forget witnessing, and they both know that. Their only hope is that maybe, once time has passed, it'll be easier for her to live with. It already is to an extent. Now that she has been put on medication and attends therapy for the illness she ignored her whole life, she can eat and sleep again. Not exactly as she had before but close.

She sniffles and wipes her nose on her hand to avoid having anything drip out of it in the presence of another person. Most of her crying over this has been violent in its vehemence. Snot-oozing, head-pounding, full-body sobs that left her shaking where she lay with her legs curled up to her chest.

"At first, I thought I was okay, and I was for the first night. I went to practice after that, but I don't even remember being there. It was the next day that it all started. I wasn't able to leave the house, and I became so anxious, so obsessed with the idea that I wasn't safe, that I stopped eating. I went to the ER because I thought there was something wrong with me." She takes a deep breath, trying not to let her bottom lip quiver as much as it wants to when pausing between words. "I suffered in that room, starving so much that it hurt, for two days." A tear slides down her cheek, and she has to wipe it away with her fingertips. "The people treating me told me there was nothing physically wrong with me. They told me it was psychosomatic and sent me home."

It's a period of time she couldn't forget if she tried, and she did try. She tried so hard, but whenever she lay in her bed or tried to eat something, anything, her mind took her back to those two days. It was the reason why she stopped sleeping. Whenever she would jolt awake to the darkness of her bedroom, she wasn't awake enough to know where or when she was.

"For the next two weeks, which felt like a month, I had to force myself to learn to eat again, and, at first, I was sleeping. But it was because my friend let me have some of her Xanax to take to help me at night. What I didn't realize was that my body would get used to taking it, and once it did, I couldn't relax. I couldn't let my guard down long enough to fall asleep," she says. "So, I started doing things, I guess compulsions, not knowing why I was doing them."

This time, Tara nods and writes something down on the page of the notebook with her lip bitten between her teeth in thought.

"What were your compulsions?"

Her mind flashes in a supercut of memories from June—her hands wiping down the kitchen counters, bottles of nail polish on her kitchen counter, and the sight of her hollow face staring back at her in the mirror every day. She's almost too ashamed to tell her, to go into what she was doing and why she thought it may help, but that's why she's here. The whole reason for being here is to work through it, so she does.

"Um." Her voice wavers. "Well, I started to clean my kitchen from top to bottom every morning. I didn't have a specific reason, but I think it was because I needed something to do to pass the time since I was too weak to skate." The eye contact she makes with the floor has yet to break, and she tries not to focus on Tara's purposefully subdued reactions in her peripheral vision.

Pretending like she isn't there, like she's telling this story to the empty room, makes it bearable. "When I was little, my mom used to put my hair in two braids on each side of my head when I was sick. It was just a simple style to keep it out of my face when I blew my nose and coughed, but she always did it. So, I started keeping my hair like that. I had to braid it like that every day, or else the day was going to end badly. I know that makes no sense, but it did to me."

The other woman is quick to shake her head.

"No, I understand," she says softly. "Every time you were sick, your mom braided your hair, and when you get sick, you always get better, so you did it to self-soothe."

It nearly makes her cry to hear her say that.

Most people without in-depth education about these illnesses would think her crazy for believing that braiding her hair could prevent things from going badly, but she gets it. The staff at the hospital, as well as the other patients she bonded with over countless card games, all got it. It makes her feel a little less crazy when people react like this. It's not as if she expected a mental health professional to act any other way, but she feared it nonetheless.

"I also felt like I needed to change my nail polish whenever something bad happened." She holds up her newly manicured fingers sporting almond-shaped acrylics. "That's why I went and got these. So I wouldn't be able to keep doing that now that I'm out. Also to stop me from picking at my skin."

The sound of Tara humming in agreement with the decision brings a sense of warmth to her chest. There's something about the clinician that disarms her entirely, bringing her down enough to lay herself bare before her with less difficulty than she would have with others. Part of it, she thinks, is that she knows no one else will hear what's said here. It isn't Rosie, Anna, or anyone she doesn't want to see her in a different light. It's someone meant to hear these things without any emotional labor given in return.

She goes on.

"The last thing I did, or I guess it's what I didn't do, was avoid the bracelet I was wearing the day of the shooting. I almost wanted to burn it."

Finally, she looks up and meets Tara's kind eyes.

"Why did you want to burn your bracelet?" she asks despite already having an idea of the reasoning behind it.

The softness in how the question was asked, paired with the unspoken understanding and never-ending compassion beneath it, makes Y/N break down at long last. Her shoulders shake with the cries she tries to stifle, wiping her nose and her wet cheeks as she shrinks into the seat like a scared little girl.

Her voice is so soft, so ashamed of the truth being spoken, that she barely hears it over the sound of her cries.

"Because I thought it was cursed..."

No one but the psychiatrist at the hospital, not Ella or Harry or her parents, has been told of this part. Because it's this that she is the most embarrassed of. If her mother were here, she'd tell her how illogical it is, and she knows that. It doesn't make any sense and never had, but she believed it regardless. Every time she passed by where it sat on top of her dresser, her face twisted into a grimace. On June 1st, hiding behind the refrigerator stocked with water, she remembers how she clutched the edge of it with her right hand to keep herself from falling to the floor, and she didn't look out at the killer or the deceased clerk again. Instead, she kept her eyes locked onto the bracelet given to her for her twenty-fourth birthday days prior and never looked away until the door to the bodega opened and closed again. When she wore it home, it sat heavy around her wrist, and when she laid in bed those two days, starving, she felt it brush up against the bottom of her pillow whenever she moved her hand.

The second she got home from the emergency room, she ripped it off and threw it on her dresser in a rage.

Y/N whispers, "I just felt so stupid."

She rubs her eyes with her hand as if that will do anything to stop the tears from falling, and when her hand falls back to her side, she notices that a box of tissues has been placed on the end of the desk closest to her. With a quiet, "Thank you," she takes a few to blow her nose, then two more to wipe her eyes before discarding the handful in the garbage bin.

"I know you already know this," Tara says propping her chin up on the palm of her hand, "but what you did is normal for people with OCD. Especially when you're undiagnosed and unmedicated."

Her face softens at the new tears falling from her eyes, now smudged with runny mascara that ruins the look she painstakingly crafted in the bathroom with Ella before practice for the sake of passing time.

"You weren't stupid, Y/N. You were just sick."

And, for once, it feels good to hear that coming from someone other than the people who have every reason to be biased toward her. If she were to tell Ella or her parents, they would shake their heads and tell her to stop being so hard on herself, but she has trouble believing them. When you love someone, you'll do anything to take the burden of pain off of their shoulders and onto yours. Hearing it from someone whose job is to be as objective and tactfully honest as possible is far different.

The sound of her sniffling as she begins to calm down, no longer wanting to take tissue after tissue to wipe her runny nose, is the only thing to be heard in the room surrounding them. No footsteps in the hallway, no group conversation getting loud and excited the next room over, and no judgments. Just sniffling and heavy breathing that soon evens out into a steady rise and fall of her chest.

It's ten minutes later that she finishes up with Tara and exits the room to see the rest of the patients leaving. A glance at her watch shows that it's three o'clock, meaning everyone but the clinicians who work until five documenting and talking to the others about treatment plans for their patients is free to go home and do as they please for the rest of the afternoon.

Y/N is the last person out of the building, and when she steps out into the sun, she feels a little bit lighter than she had before. The emotional weight of what happened to her was cumbersome to bear alone, and even though one conversation would never cure her, it does make her feel less alone.

Before she can overthink any of it, she's going through her contacts and presses Harry's number. They exchanged information on their first day of practicing together, both for the sake of their work as well as the ruse.

After three rings, he picks up.

"Hello?"

-

The subway is her least favorite part about living in the city.

Not only is it annoying to stand shoulder to shoulder with strangers, packed in like sardines, but it's unbearably hot down here, especially in the summer, and the heat worsens the anxiety she feels surrounding what's to come tonight. But with the anxiety medication she took before leaving Ella's place to meet up with Harry before the time they're supposed to arrive at the bar with her friends, it's easier to cope with. Rather than it being an overstimulating nightmare of panting breaths and frantic, racing thoughts, it's slowed down. The anxiety is still present, yet it doesn't hinder her ability to function.

Part of what she enjoys about this city, though, is that no one pays attention to her. There are too many people and too many things going on for anyone to bat an eye at what she is saying or doing, or if she appears to be anxious or not. It allows her to have a certain freedom within herself to dress however she wants and talk loudly, taking up space without fearing the reaction of others.

The bottoms of her thighs stick to the seat with sweat where they're exposed by her mini dress, and she keeps squirming around every few seconds in discomfort, trying to wipe the perspiration away to no avail. Beside her, Harry is messaging someone on his phone, so she tries not to look over his shoulder and gives him privacy until he's finished.

Once he is, she shifts in her seat to face him with one long leg crossed over the other.

"We need to make some ground rules."

He looks up from his phone with raised brows, his thumb pressing down on the button on the side to shut the screen off. The white shirt he wears is unbuttoned just enough for his chest tattoos to peek out from beneath the edges of the fabric, and she already knows that her friends will lose their minds when they see them together.

They were already told in the group chat on Instagram, titled dream blunt rotation with numerous celebrities that will never accept the chat invite, about her going out with the stripper they met over the weekend. She and Ella played it off well. They played into the shock felt by Rosie and Anna at the fact that Harry is her new partner. It's a small world, they all said. But Y/N knows that if they knew everything, it would appear even smaller.

"Like what?" he asks.

His legs are pushed together by the person next to him being careless with their personal space, stretching out as though they own the place, and he scoots a little closer to her as a result of it. Her bare thigh presses into the side of his clothed one.

"Well, I feel like the first rule should be that neither of us can talk about how we actually met."

He nods.

"Obviously."

Her arms hug her purse to her chest to free up some space beside her for him, giving him the room to comfortably relax his right arm without having to fold himself in to fit into the seat between her and the other man. When their hands brush, her breath hitches in her throat, and she prays that he doesn't notice. She may not be one to date people, but she isn't blind. Every woman sitting or standing near them steals glances at him, likely wishing they were the one pressed up against his side. Like it or not, there is a part of her that takes pleasure in being seen with him.

"Second rule..." she trails off, tapping her fingers against her knee. "We have to figure out what kind of PDA we're okay with."

He goes quiet for a second, then says, "I'm fine with anything."

Anything, her mind echoes in equal parts excitement and fear. What does he mean by anything? Apparently, it must be written on her face, because he is quick to explain himself.

Laughing, he says, "Calm down. M'not saying we have to go fuck in the bathroom or something, I meant holding hands and a kiss maybe."

This causes her to giggle nervously at first, but once the words are fully taken in, the smile on her face begins to soften. Kissing, holding hands, and touching are all things she can hardly stand the thought of doing. The first and only time she kissed a boy was in front of their school in the seventh grade. He had a crush on her and asked her out. Not being able to say no because she didn't want to upset him, she said yes and they were "dating" for a few weeks. One day before she had to walk home, she kissed him, and the moment their lips touched, she became overwhelmed with discomfort. All she could hear in the back of her mind was her parents saying she was too young, that boys will only want one thing from her, and she ran off without another word. Later that night, she texted him to end the relationship.

But, she realizes, this isn't real. If they're simply pretending to be doing these things because they have feelings for each other that don't truly exist, there is no reason to feel like she's doing something wrong. No one is taking advantage of the other in this situation, and she'll never have to introduce him to her parents as her boyfriend and endure the awkward tension with her overprotective father.

Y/N worries her lip between her teeth as she turns over the thought in her mind.

"That might not be a bad idea."

His head whips around to look at her again, his eyes widened in disbelief at what she's implying. It isn't until he's been staring at her for a good five seconds that she realizes the miscommunication.

"Oh, no, not like that," she says, "I mean we could pretend to go to the bathroom and make it look like we did something."

An elderly woman sitting across from them pauses what she's doing on her phone to side-eye them, but they don't pay her any mind. The rest of the people around them don't make it known if they're eavesdropping but, honestly, even if they are, she doesn't care. These people are strangers who are owed nothing by them, and if they want to judge them for the web of lies they're weaving for her friends, then so be it.

Harry runs his hand through his hair to push it back into place. The jolting movement of the subway knocked a few strands onto his face, so he takes the time to fix it for the sake of looking good when he meets her friends. Well, technically he already has met her friends, but this time will be different. It won't be a fleeting moment in which he kisses her to distract them, it'll be his formal introduction into her life as her "boyfriend". Even though he knows it's not real, he doesn't want to let her down. After all, he's her partner on the ice now, and that's reason enough to want her friends to like him.

Before he can respond, the sound of the next stop being announced brings their attention away from one another, and they both stand with one hand holding the pole for support.

From what little she knows about him, Harry was born and raised in northern England with his mom, but he came here to train with one of the best pairs ice dancing coaches the world had to offer and has lived in the city for four years. His previous partner was an up-and-coming favorite of many, but she quit the same week of the bodega shooting due to a career-ending injury sustained in a biking accident.

Once they ascend the stairway onto the street the bar is located on, he asks, "If these are your friends, why are you going this far to keep it a secret from them?"

Her heels click on the sidewalk as they walk, hand in hand in case her friends are walking in at the same time, down the block together.

The suddenness of the question, as well as the brutality of it, catches her off guard and silences her for the next minute or so. Truth be told, the decision not to tell Rosie and Anna about what happened wasn't intentional. After the shooting, she went to Ella for support, and she was far too distressed in the following weeks to reach out to the others beyond basic greetings and posts shared on social media. Now, it seems foolish to tell them. No matter how she explains it, she's certain it will hurt their feelings that she didn't go to them in her time of strife.

"Um, I honestly don't know," she says, staring ahead at the family walking before them. Anything to avoid the judgment she anticipates from him. "I didn't mean to lie, but I didn't tell them, and once I went into the hospital it felt like it was too late. It all just...happened."

Although distracted by watching the people around them, she can feel his eyes on her. It's hard to act casual when someone like him—someone so gorgeous and simultaneously critical in her recent life—is staring. And even though she knows this isn't real, that they aren't dating and everything is fake, she can't help how her heart races faster the longer he stares.

For the rest of the walk to the bar, both of them remain silent. The sole thing to steady her is the warm feeling of his hand in hers, and, even then, there's a degree of discomfort mixed into it as well. Her friends have teased her about her commitment-phobia and fear surrounding dating, so she expects the worst interrogation of her life upon arrival.

The bar Rosie chose for their first official outing as a "couple" is an exclusive rooftop one that her new boy of the month frequents. Her status alone would get her in, but with him at her side, there was no question as to whether or not she belonged among the rich and famous. It's this same exclusivity that causes Harry's eyebrows to raise as they're guided into an elevator with the bald bouncer.

He whispers to her on the way up, "I know I was taking shots at you for being rich, but I didn't know you were this kind of rich."

A soft huff of laughter leaves her, and she thinks she may see his cheeks flushing a deep pink color at the sound of it.

"My parents are this kind of rich, actually. But I get what you mean," she says and leans against the back wall of the moving elevator. "My family has always been wealthy, but I was an introverted kid growing up. When Ella and Rosie first met me and took me out, seeing places like this for the first time was pretty overwhelming."

The tidbit of information about her childhood makes him smile to himself at the thought of her all those years ago, content with standing on the sidelines and daydreaming about being on the ice while her peers played outside. It's strangely endearing. His first impression of her at the club was that she was an entitled, rich party girl who was used to getting everything she wants, and while part of that may be true, there are other qualities of hers that shine brighter.

Her hand squeezes his tighter when the elevator comes to a gentle stop at the top floor of the tall building.

This is it. Soon, they will be hanging out with her friends and lying to them, having to touch and flirt and maybe even kiss as though they're together. A small amount of dread rises within her at the thought of it. The concept of a man touching her and kissing her is both nerve-wracking and thrilling. She thinks that if it were another man, she wouldn't be able to stomach it, but it's Harry. Even though he's little more than an acquaintance, there's a sense of safety felt when she's around him. It could be a result of how they met that day on the train platform, but, either way, she's thankful to have him by her side.

The elevator doors open with a ding, and she's already shifted into friend mode. Her hand holds onto his tightly as she feigns confidence and drags him through the groups of people to the place Rosie told her to go. They enjoy hanging out by the edge of the building to the left of the bar where you can look out at the skyline.

He can tell by the looks on their faces that they hadn't truly believed they'd seen him here.

One of the friends he recognizes from the club, the one with pretty brown eyes and bottle-blonde hair, is the first to greet them. Rather than tackle her in an embrace as per usual, she gives them space seeing that they're holding onto each other already.

"Y/N, you look radiant! I love that dress," the woman says, then looks at him. "And you must be Harry?" He nods, and she holds out her hand to shake his free one. "Rosie. It's nice to meet the guy who's stealing allll of her free time from us!"

His throat bobs with a thick swallow as he remembers the true reason he's here. To give her an alibi for the time she spends at therapy during the week when she would otherwise be hanging with them.

He takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.

"Guilty as charged," Harry says.

The next friend comes up and offers her a hug with one arm, bringing her in close to cradle her head on her shoulder like a mother would to a child. Ella, he thinks without room for doubt. This woman is the only one who knows about Y/N's breakdown as well as their ruse. She doesn't feel the need to say anything. Words aren't needed with them. All they need is a quick hug to convey their feelings and thoughts to each other before pulling away to allow their last friend a turn with them.

Anna stops in front of them and reaches out for Y/N's free hand. Giving it a few squeezes, she can't help but smile and say, "I've missed you too much."

Her gaze then shifts to him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says and looks back and forth between the two of them. "I never thought our sweet Fi would find a guy she'd go crazy for."

He was briefed on this too—the shock that'd be a common theme among the group of girls due to her never having shown an interest in dating before. It would mean they'd be protective too, he realized earlier today, so he tries to be as friendly and nonchalant as possible. The last thing he wants is to give them a reason to dislike him.

"It's nice to meet you too. She's told me so much about you guys," he says.

This seems to please them enough. From behind Anna's back, Rosie makes eye contact with Y/N and raises her brows in pretend shock at how much they like him. The sight of it makes him breathe a little easier as the seconds go by, knowing that the hardest part is over now that they've been introduced. All of them stare expectantly at them for the next few seconds, then Y/N breaks the silence.

"We're gonna go get drinks. Be right back!"

He's being dragged around again before he has the chance to wave goodbye to Rosie, who was waving excitedly at him like a puppy faced with a potential new friend. People move out of her way without anything having to be said, and he finds that quite intriguing. The power she wields without ever saying a word is wild to him. All it takes is a smile and a confident stride for everyone to make a path for the gorgeous woman in a little strapless dress. Its shade of midnight blue shimmers under the dim lighting of the bar, bringing out the subtle aspect of the glitter mixed into the fabric.

The line at the bar is merely a few people long, so it doesn't take more than a couple moments for them to reach it. Her fingers curl around the edge of the bar to steady herself against it as she leans forward to tell the bartender what she wants over the volume of people chatting throughout the room. Music plays over loudspeakers on the other side of the room, a DJ positioned behind a computer, and the song is decent. At least it doesn't make him want to rip out his eardrums.

Once she's finished ordering her virgin cocktail, a tap on his shoulder brings him out of his people-watching trance and back to her face. The coral blush brushed over her cheeks gives her a demure, coquettish look, and though his heart beats for another, not even he can resist the gravitational pull she has on everyone around her.

"Want anything?"

He shrugs.

This causes her to turn back around to face the man behind the bar and ask, "A Jack and Coke for my friend here, please?"

The second the bartender turns to make it, she leans back against the bar to face him and holds his hand in both of hers for the sake of appearing as couple-y as possible for her friends watching across the room.

"How'd I do?" she asks. "Was I even a little close to guessing what you drink? You kinda seem like a Jack and Coke guy."

He shakes his head.

"I don't mind Jack and Coke, but I'm more of a tequila man."

"Neat or on the rocks?"

"Neat."

She nods in approval, toying with the rings decorating the hand connected with hers. The softness of her touch is something he never expected to enjoy, but he does. Even if it isn't real, it feels nice after years of loving Lola from afar with nothing in return.

Without looking over his shoulder to check if the girls are looking in their direction, he steps forward to invade her space, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her body flush against his. He can tell by how she stiffens against him that she hadn't expected it, but she adjusts rather quickly and throws her arms around his broad shoulders like she would with someone she's actually dating. Their lips are inches apart, so close that they can feel the heat of each other's exhales.

Harry brushes his nose against hers affectionately, and it's such an intimate, tender gesture, she doesn't know what to do other than savor the thrill it sends down her spine.

"You're good at this," she whispers after a second. "I guess I should just follow your lead since I don't do this a lot."

Ever, actually. The correct thing to say would be that she doesn't do this ever, but it's far too embarrassing to admit it aloud. It's hard not to feel like a failure of sorts regarding her pathetic attempts at finding a romantic partner. At one point, she did try. She downloaded dating apps and met a few guys, but every time she wanted something real with them, she heard her mom scolding her in the back of her head. She heard her dad accusing her of being pregnant when she was fifteen because he caught her holding hands with her middle school boyfriend.

The differences between how she and her brother were treated regarding relationships and sex growing up affected her more than she thought it had, and it wasn't until she began talking about it in group therapy at the hospital that she realized there was a reason behind her discomfort with intimacy.

Sensing some sort of conflict in her, he says softly, "I won't kiss you unless you ask me to, Y/N. Don't worry." A pause, then a slight chuckle. "You don't seem like the making out in public type anyway."

The smile drops from her face.

"Is that a challenge?"

And, with that, the confidence evident in his expression slowly fades at the pressure of being put on the spot. Suddenly, he doesn't feel like the experienced one between the two of them. Y/N has a way of doing that, of making him flustered and bashful like a touch-starved virgin. He rationalizes it, though. He reasons with himself and thinks that it's merely a physical reaction to an attractive person, not anything real. It's nothing to feel guilty over. It's not like you can betray someone who isn't even dating you, so it's nothing to lose sleep over regarding his love for Lola. He's slept with plenty of people despite having feelings for her, so what's a little kissing?

Slowly, they begin to inch their faces closer and closer until she can almost feel his lips brushing hers. He's about to close the remaining distance between them and kiss her like he had at the club on Sunday, but the bartender taps her on the shoulder before he can.

"Okay, one virgin Pina Colada and a Jack and Coke," the man says, setting the two glasses down on the bar top. "Your total is forty dollars even."

Y/N turns around in Harry's embrace to face him, giddy at how his arms remain around her waist and his chin rests on her shoulder. Her friends don't stand a chance at all. He's laying it on quite thick, and it's a wonder she doesn't bust out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

If this is how Harry behaves around someone he's dating, his eventual partner is a lucky person. She has come to find through her friends' adventures in dating that so few guys are so open with their affection unless it's in a sexual connotation like dancing or grabbing a handful of their asses. He, however, doesn't grope her anywhere or push at the limits of what's decent. He just holds her, and she knows Rosie will never let her hear the end of it.

She holds out her credit card between her index and middle finger for the bartender to take with a polite, "Thank you."

They take their drinks and sip from them as Trent, if the name tag on his shirt is to be believed, swipes her card and slides it back across the countertop to her with the receipt folded around it. It's stuffed back into her small shoulder bag before she's too enamored with her drink to forget it.

The sweet flavor of the mocktail is heavenly on her taste buds, and she has to let her head roll back onto Harry's shoulder in overdramatic appreciation of it. Pina Coladas used to be her drink of choice when she indulged in substances. Anna would tease her for never switching up her order or trying something new, but she paid it no mind. She sat at whatever table or bar they went to and sipped it happily until she was giggling from being tipsy.

"I'm assuming it's good?" Harry asks sarcastically. "You're literally moaning."

She turns her head to look at him with furrowed brows, saying, "Yes, it is amazing, and you can't blame me. My love affair with this drink has been long and passionate. You wouldn't understand 'cause you go for straight tequila and don't like fun drinks like me."

The burning stares of her friends watching them from the corner of the room are felt by them both, and it suddenly hits her what they're doing. Is she a terrible person? Lying to them like this, keeping them in the dark, and bringing Harry into it too—does this make her morally unjust? It's hard for her to distinguish the line between self-hatred and criticism, so as she thinks it over, she can't help but batter herself bloody for doing something wrong.

From the feeling of her body tensing up in his grasp alone, he can tell that something is wrong, and without having the insight of knowing her thoughts, he fears that he's taken things too far. Maybe he should've eased up on the physical contact, maybe she hadn't fully thought it through. After all, she did say she doesn't date. What if this is making her uncomfortable?

He murmurs to her, "Are you okay?"

There's a heavy sigh sinking her chest.

"I guess," she says, "I just—Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Everything—his train of thought, the hammering of his heart in his chest as he wondered what he did wrong, and how he sips on his drink—stops short.

"What are you talking about?"

The way she asked it snapped his heart in two. It doesn't matter that he barely knows her, or that he did, in fact, initially think she was a bad person after their interaction in the alleyway, the guilt present in her voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, he feels the strange need to look after her. Not for any reason other than the fact that he can see how broken she is, and there's only one other person in her life who knows what's happening with her. She needs him, he realizes. She needs someone to talk her out of hating herself. Because if she continues on like this, if she keeps berating herself to the extent where everything becomes her fault, she'll revert right back into the state of mind that made her want to jump in the first place.

She ignored him for a second in favor of taking another sip of Pina Colada before saying, "I don't know. I wasn't just thinking about how I'm lying to them, and I don't know if that makes me a bad person."

Y/N takes this as her chance to wriggle out of his grasp to walk back to her friends, but he stops her. His arm around her waist tugs her back, and he doesn't let her leave until she hears what he has to say. If she asked for his opinion, then let her have it.

"Look at me," he says, and she does. Now that he knows he has her attention, he has no issues speaking his mind. "Don't do that to yourself. I know I don't know much about you or them, but it's not your fault that you were put in this situation. If they love you, they'll forgive you, even if you are a stuck-up rich girl."

This stuns her to silence.

It's hard for her to think, let alone speak, a response to this because of the unashamed honesty in the statement. It's the type of honesty only someone new in your life can have when speaking to you, and she's surprised to find that she likes it. He's not treating her any differently than someone unaware of her situation would, and she could kiss him for it.

She smiles softly.

"I may be a stuck-up rich girl, but I'm your favorite stuck-up rich girl, so I feel kinda accomplished there."

The sound of him letting out a huff of laughter widens the smile on her face, and he slides his arm out from around her waist to take her hand in his.

"Would my favorite stuck-up rich girl like to dance with me?" he asks, then his voice quiets for a second, a touch more serious. "Not because your friends are watching. Just 'cause we're friends and I want to dance with you."

The words echo in her mind on repeat. I want to dance with you. I want to dance with you. I want to dance with you—

Downing the rest of the Pina Colada in a few big mouthfuls, she sets the empty glass back onto the bar top and gestures for him to chug the rest of his drink as well. He does so without protest and tries to ignore the fact that he's not savoring the twenty-dollar drink. Although, it's not like she loses any sleep over spending twenty dollars at the bar. As she starts to pull him off in the direction of where people dance together, the empty glass is placed beside hers and left for the bartender less than a few minutes after he served them.

He follows her through the small clusters of people, and his eyes follow from their connected hands up the length of her arm, admiring the beauty of the bare skin exposed by her strapless dress. The song switches once they're midway to the area where a few couples and groups of friends are dancing, and the second Y/N hears the new song, she stops and faces her friends with a slack jaw.

She calls out to them from across the room and lures them over with her arms making grand, sweeping gestures begging them to come over. Rosie, as expected, is the first to follow them out to the middle of the room, and it doesn't take long before her other friends follow suit.

Madonna's voice croons at them over the speakers as the girls, with Harry standing behind Y/N's back, sing along and dance together. It almost makes him smile. To see her having fun and laughing with her friends is a gift. It's a long way from where she was when they met, if only for the moment. Tomorrow, she could easily revert to the state she was in a moment ago, but not right now.

"I close my eyessss," Rosie sings to Anna, face cupped in her hands, "Heaven help me!"

Anna sings the next lyric back to her, "When you call my name, it's like a little prayer! I'm down on my knees"—she sinks to her knees dramatically for the sake of making the girls giggle—"I wanna take you there!"

Ella holds Y/N's hands and raises them above their heads as they swirl their hips to the rhythm of the song, and he can't do much other than watch from behind her back. He reaches to grab onto her hips with his hands, but, before he can, someone reaches between them to tap her shoulder.

She whirls around to see who it is, and as soon as she sets eyes on the man standing there, Harry has a bad feeling. That wasn't a warm, inviting look. It was more of an, "Oh shit, I didn't expect to see you," type of thing. When Harry first sees him, he isn't intimidated. The man looks younger than him, as well as shorter, and has the overall demeanor of a high schooler with an overinflated sense of self-importance.

"Owen," she says with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. "It's so funny running into you."

The other girls continue to dance, but they both can feel them eyeing him up out of the corners of their eyes. If the way they regard him has anything to say about it, Harry would wager a lot of money on everyone hating Owen. Those beady little eyes of his are locked onto Y/N's cleavage, and it becomes all too clear to him what the issue is without needing anyone to say it aloud.

If this isn't the perfect opportunity to prove himself as her fake boyfriend, he doesn't know what is.

His arm curls back around her waist and sits comfortably, his hand resting on the southernmost point of her back to the point where he's almost grabbing her ass. It's a gesture he saw many times with Lola and her ex-boyfriends whenever someone came over to check her out, so he figures it'll work in this scenario.

"S'nice to meet you," Harry says with a smile and extends his hand for the man to shake. "I'm Harry."

In her eyes, he can see the relief and the gratitude she has for him saving her from this. It tells him that she'll explain later, but thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The other man doesn't even take the hand he offers, so he lets his fall back to his side without another word.

Owen says, "You're really going out with this dude? C'mon, you can't just lead a guy on and then ghost him."

On the tip of her tongue are the words she doesn't say, words telling him that the reason he was ghosted was due to that traumatic day in June. She wants to throw it in his face so badly, but she doesn't. Anna and Rosie are too close for her to do it without them hearing and asking questions, so she simply stares daggers at him for a second or so before deciding what she's going to do.

"Actually, I can."

She turns her back on him.

Two soft hands flatten against Harry's chest to push him away from where the other man stands until they're on the other side of her friends, who're all quick to build a wall between them and him. It makes him laugh when she ignores him so bluntly, not even deigning to offer anything more than those three words. But he doesn't get the chance to look at Owen's face for a reaction. His face is behind turned away by the guidance of a smaller hand grasping him by the chin, and he has little time to think before her lips are on his.

This time, he is the one who stands there in shock for a second before kissing back. Perhaps it's payback for the unexpected kiss at the strip club, but, even if it is, he enjoys it. He likes this form of payback more than she'll ever know, not because he loves her the way he loves Lola but because of what it's doing to Owen. Putting men like that in their place is always a delight no matter how the job is done.

The bridge of the song explodes into the joyous sound of a choir parroting the lyrics sung earlier during the chorus, and he quickly goes from standing still in shock to kissing her back. Fervently. His hands squeeze her hips hard enough to bruise the soft skin beneath the fabric and uses them to bring their bodies closer together. If she thought that the kiss at the club where he worked was dizzying, then she was in for a shock. That was the least of his capabilities.

She hears her friends, likely all of them if she has to guess, whooping and cheering as they kiss one another as though they'll die if they don't. His tongue brushes against her lower lip in a request for permission, and, just like that, her lips fall open for him. The flavor of the Jack and Coke lingering on his tongue as it invades her mouth is pleasant. It makes her kiss him harder and push her tongue into his mouth for a better taste, using it to pretend like she's desperate and needy for him.

They keep kissing, blind to everything around them, until long after Owen has left. Feeling her body pressed up against his stirs the sensation of arousal in between her thighs that she has never felt so strongly when seeking pleasure by herself. This is what inevitably causes her to force herself off of him, hands braced on his shoulders, to look over at the empty spot where Owen once stood.

As soon as they part, Ella and Rosie are grabbing them by the wrists and pulling them into the group to dance. Anna shouts over the thumping music to tell Harry how amazing it was to see someone put "the stalker" in his place for once, but he doesn't respond with anything other than a laugh she hardly hears. The other girls are too busy trying to dance with them to allow them a spare second to speak.

His hands never leave Y/N's hips as they sway and sing along together. Ella is in front of her, as per usual, and her arms are draped over her shoulders to dance with her from the front while he moves behind her. Smushed between Harry and Ella's bodies, she grinds her ass against him and matches her friend's movements flawlessly, which, she thinks, is one perk of being an ice dancer. She never fumbles when it comes to dancing with her friends on nights out.

She throws her hands up in the air as she chants to the song with the rest of them, "Just like a prayer, I'll take you there!" and allows her arms to then fall back around his neck. It keeps him from pulling away, not that he wants to, and he guides her hips to move similarly to how he's supposed to for the salacious choreography of their free dance.

At this moment, she smiles—a genuine, true smile—for the first time in weeks, and it's all because of tonight's success. Because of Harry and how well he's doing with her friends. So, she lets herself be happy for now.

Even if it is a lie.

-

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed this :)

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fanfiction #one direction #tw suicide #tw mental illness

[asexual-abomination]

This is the first part of a rewrite of the series that brought attention to my blog in the first place! When I wrote this series originally, it was at midnight when I couldn’t sleep because I had COVID, so I always wanted to come back and rewrite it with a clearer mind.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, cause I’ve been real stressed about university, but waking up to new notes on this blog is always a highlight of my day! I have so many WIPs for hxh, Overwatch, ff7, the batfamily, and now the spider-verse movies, but I’ve been struggling to complete them to an extent that I feel is worth posting.

Please leave a comment if you want me to rewrite the rest of the series!

Platonic!Yandere!Phantom Troupe X Autistic Reader (Soulmate AU)

Content warnings: Yandere, vague mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

“To my dearest soulmate.-“

No, too affectionate.

“To my soulmate, I am incredibly excited to welcome you here-“

The sentence is jarring, start with an introduction.

“To my soulmate, my name is YN, and I am so excited to finally have the chance to communicate with you!”

Good enough. You were so happy to be writing a letter like this, being able to rewrite and start over as often as needed, without the pressure of saying it right in the first try.

Having finished one sentence, you sighed as you looked down at the number of things you had crossed out before it seemed right. Then, you turned to your notebook, where you had spent years collating everything you wanted to put into this letter, trying to find some inspiration for what to do next.

“I have been awaiting this day, carved into our bodies, for my entire life.”

Was that too formal? Too strong?

Ugh. This was hard.

You despised knowing nothing about your soulmate, the enigma of their identity making them feel otherworldly and strange. Without knowing even the slightest bit about who they were, you had no frame of reference for what they would consider too much or too fast, leaving you to blindly feel your way towards a half-coherent letter.

Jo was sat across from you, in their favourite shabby armchair, pretending to watch the football you had put on for background noise, and not-so-secretly keeping an eye on you. From your dejected sigh as you curled up on the sofa, your childhood friend could tell what was bothering you from a single glance.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, they’re your soulmate, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“But they shouldn’t!” You sighed, “I want to impress them, make them feel welcomed and happy!”

“And that’s what I’m gettin’ at! Their personality must be suited enough to yours that they’ll find your way of doin’ things loveable!”

You grumbled with no coherent response, looking again at your paper.

They’d find your way of doing things loveable.

You could work with that.

“I hope that I, and my friends, can make you feel happy and welcomed in my home. The time we will spend, with our bodies swapped, will be precious, and there will never be another time like it in our lives. You are precious to me.”

Your lips tugged downward in a frown at the last line, the irritating thoughts about potentially annoying your soulmate flooding you again. You had just let the pen run wild, trying to encapsulate even the smallest fraction of your feelings about the situation, which always ended up feeling like too much as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Just as you considered scrapping the whole thing and starting again from scratch, Jo caught your eye with a stern glare, as they always did when you doubted yourself.

“I have longed to know who you are for years; your mystery has entranced me. I want to see the destiny the universe has seen fit to bestow upon us both."

As you relaxed into the motions of the pen, the waterfall of words falling from your fingers, you stunned yourself with short poetic verses.

"Even though romance holds no place in what has been destined for us, I want to make you so happy that you may bear your heart to me as I may for you. Please take care of my body while you have it. I hope that one day I might trust with this on more than just blind faith.

All my love, from the bottom of my heart, your soulmate."

It felt weak. You felt weak.

Was it really right to say you loved someone you hadn't met? Even as soulmates, it felt like a betrayal.

"Hey Jo, do you mind reading through this for me? If I keep looking at it, I'll either throw it away or throw up."

"Ahh, YN, you know I'm not so good with words and that stuff, yeah? That's your job, ain't it?"

"Oh, hush, I've read your poetry, you big romantic!"

"What?"

You quickly hurried past them, dropping the drafted letter onto their lap before heading to the kitchen. Your hands were shaking; you needed to get some water before you passed out.

Your breaths were coming short as you downed a second glass of water, one arm shakily holding the lip of the sink for support as the anxiety began to weigh on your mind. You had less than a week; on this Sunday evening, you'd lie in bed and wake up in the body of your soulmate. It was Tuesday evening, the soft autumn air swirling dead leaves outside your window.

A phone began ringing in the living room, so you set down your glass on the draining board and began heading back through, only to realise the call wasn't for you when you heard Jo's voice.

"Yeah, I hear ya. No need to yell, old man... Oh, shut yer trap; you know I'm only half joking... You know I said wasn't working tonight... Yeah, yeah... You piece of shit! Fine, I'll be there, but you better be payin' me double time for this shit."

Jo rounded the corner, grumbling under their breath. They paused at your side, leaning in slightly to speak, the smell of beer on their breath and thankfully not overwhelming.

"Listen, yer letter was grand, okay? You've got a talent for these sortsa things. I've gotta head out, alright? Probably won't be back until morning. I'll bring you back something nice alright, repayment for skipping what should have been a nice night together."

"It's alright, really. Just take care of yourself, okay?" You reassured them.

They walked out into the biting chill, heading down a dark alley like it was their own front door.

--//--

Chrollo looked himself in the eyes, the cold water he splashed on his face dripping from his hair.

He had felt strange the past few days, like something was clinging to the back of his mind, tugging his attention away from his work. As if a song was stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember the melody.

The Mediterranean heat must have been getting to his head; that was the only explanation. He composed himself, wiping his brow before he went to slick his hair back, turning his focus to the heist he and the Troupe would be carrying out that Sunday.

--//--

The week had been long and stressful for everyone involved. You tried not to be too much of a perfectionist, but you wanted to make the best impression possible.

The morning of the day you would switch was upon you, and you came downstairs to find Jo asleep on your couch, as they often were. You smiled at their sleeping face, very peaceful compared to their usual furrowed brow.

Their face was made up of sharp lines, almost geometric perfection, except for the mess of freckles covering their cheeks and forehead, adding just a hint of softness.

As you prepared breakfast for the two of you, Jo woke up with a sleepy groan, trudging over to the kitchen counter.

"Today's the day, huh? The last day of me being your best friend?"

"Jo! Don't say it like that! I'll always love you, you know that!" You defended yourself.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just joking. You deserve to be happy with your soulmate."

You frowned at that again, remembering the situation with Jo's own soulmate. You had both been so excited to look her up after the switch, only to discover that she had died in a sudden car crash within an hour.

After that, they became much more clingy with your time. When they were around, at least. They had also begun taking on many more "jobs" that took them far away.

You sympathised with their situation, but you could tell they harboured jealousy for your soulmate.

You sat down on the couch, breakfast in hand, as Jo came to sit at your side. You flicked through channels on TV, trying to alleviate the awkward tension that fell over the room.

"Listen, I'm not jealous."

"It's okay to admit it; I can understand your perspective! But you can't keep me from my soulmate!"

"No, it's not that! It's more that I'm... paranoid."

"Paranoid, about... what, exactly?"

"About your soulmate! I can't explain it, but I've got this bad feeling!"

"A bad feeling? What kind of bad feeling?"

You learned a long time ago that Jo's intuition was often correct, but were they really concerned or just trying to pull you and your soulmate apart?

"I just said, I can't explain it! I just don't want anything bad to happen to you!"

You sighed as you felt that both of you were becoming too worked up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I think... we're all quite stressed right now. Let's have a proper talk when we're not all so high-strung."

"Yeah, yeah."

Today was gonna be fun.

--//--

Chrollo smiled at the carnage surrounding him, watching as his friends unleashed their power on these pathetic guards. They heard the approaching rumble of reinforcements, which, by their calculations, should contain the man they were after.

His incredible enhancer ability would be handy for Chrollo, so they had spent days sieging the fortress he defended. As Nobunaga took to whittling down the primary reinforcements, Chrollo found himself distracted once again. That strange feeling in the back of his head, the itch he couldn't scratch, saying that something was wrong.

He shook his head to free himself of these thoughts, as the intimidating man faced him, seemingly unaware of exactly who he was fighting.

--//--

Despite your small fight with Jo, the day had gone well. You had prepared several cakes, which you poured plenty of love into. You also wrote your letter into one coherent piece and placed it in an envelope, which you taped to inside of your bedroom door.

A group of your friends arrived, all bearing various snacks and drinks to add to the table. As the conversation began to flow, you anxiously reminded them of the careful limits you had gone over for what they were allowed to say to your soulmate. They all laughed and smiled, promising to go along.

Almost on autopilot, you turned to Jo for reassurance, and they were in a good enough mood to laugh softly and promise to keep the others in line.

You knew Jo wouldn't go back on their word, no matter their personal feelings about the situation.

With everything laid out enticingly on a coffee table, you retired to your bedroom for the night, your gut swirling with anxiety and excitement.

You laid back on your bed, crossing your hands across your stomach. You had until exactly 21:29 to wait for the switch.

Looking over at the clock you had bought for this express purpose, you saw 21:27.

It'll probably feel like forever, you thought, plenty of time to get comfortable.

21:28

That's fine; you took a few deep breaths, settling down into your pillows. You closed your eyes softly.

Breathing deeply. With your eyes closed.

In, and out, in, and out.

Curiosity got the better of you.

Your eyes snapped open, turning back to the clock, getting to see just the slightest glimpse of 21:29 before everything changed.

--//--

Chrollo sighed from the driver's seat, just a straight highway unfolding seemingly infinitely in front and behind him. Confident in his ability to avoid traffic by instinct, he allowed his eyes to drift to the clock on the screen, 00:28 blinking back at him.

That time bothered him.

It wasn't unusual for him to stay up past midnight, more common than not, in fact, but that itch he couldn't scratch, that sweet song that slipped his mind's grasp, was back in full force, making him grit his teeth in irritation.

He returned his eyes to the road before him, though he only caught a glimpse of the asphalt-laden horizon before everything changed.

--//--

In a moment, you felt everything shift. You could feel it down to the change in the structure of your skeleton. Every muscle was different, every sensation infinitely sharpened by the new body you inhabited.

You felt that you were sitting, not lying down. You saw that you were looking out at a road.

And then, finally, you realised you were driving the car.

It was common knowledge that the swap allowed people to speak in the native tongue of their soulmate, but you wondered if you would be the first to discover that the same thing applied to driving skills.

You focused on the road and on keeping your breathing steady, aware that a panic attack here would result in much more than a headache and a sore throat in the long run.

Once finally began to calm down, you briefly peeled your eyes off the road to look your soulmate in the eyes in the rearview mirror. His grey eyes were striking, and his raven black hair was slicked back to his head, revealing a strange tattoo in the centre of his forehead. He was quite attractive, all things considered.

You felt a brush of air across your chest and again glanced down to notice you were completely shirtless, other than a feathery collared jacket that did nothing to hide your soulmate's toned body. Definitely a bold outfit choice, but you couldn't deny that it suited him well.

After a few more moments assuring yourself of the safety of the road, you tried to look at the other passengers of the car. You had seen them when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to think about them at that moment.

In the passenger seat was a pink-haired woman, her face stoic as she stared ahead. Behind you was a grumpy-looking man with black hair leaning into the window. In the centre of the backseat was a blond man with a cute face, tapping away at a modified phone of some kind. Furthest from you, behind the passenger seat, was a gruff-looking man with slicked-back blond hair.

None of them seemed to have noticed a change in their driver's behaviour, so you had a few more moments to collect yourself before you spoke up. Although you were still grappling with the fact that your soulmate had entirely forgotten about your switch, you didn't want to waste your time.

"I don't know... quite what's happening here, but I'm this person's soulmate."

You could taste something sweet with just the slightest hint of bitterness on your own breath.

The car had been silent before you spoke, but the silence grew heavier. Now every eye was on you, and you almost wished you hadn't said anything, that you had let the switch play out in complete silence before returning to your own body.

"What?" The taller blond man finally replied.

"I'm... their soulmate? Did they not tell anyone?"

"Boss had a soulmate?" He turned to the other blond man, ignoring you completely.

"Not as far as I know!"

"Look at me."

That last bit was said by the pink-haired woman next to you. With no small amount of fear in your heart, you ripped your eyes away from the road to look her in the eyes. Her cold, calculating eyes pierced you through and through. After what felt like aeons that she spent observing you, she let out the slightest gasp.

"You're not lying."

As soon as you had the reassurance that they believed you, you looked back at the road, relieved to see no danger.

"Are you serious? Are you messing with us, boss?" The black-haired man spoke, his tone rising to aggression.

"Calm down, all of you! This is the boss's soulmate, obviously!"

"But why wouldn't he tell us at all? This is crazy!"

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to test us?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on here?"

The pink-haired woman turned back to from where she had been scolding the other passengers, sighing before she spoke.

"Look, sorry about all this ruckus. It's just that we're pretty close to our boss, and he never even told us he had a soulmate!"

"Seriously? Weird..." You trailed off, unsure of how to fill in the dead air.

"My name's Machi; what's yours?"

"I'm YN. Who is this?" You asked, gesturing slightly at your own body.

"Oh right, our boss's name is Chrollo. In the backseat, there is Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Phinks." She pointed each one out to you.

Behind you, Shalnark and Nobunaga were whispering to each other as they looked intently at Shalnark's phone.

"And where are you from, YN?" Shalnark spoke up again, a bright smile on his face as he watched you through the rearview.

"I'm from CN; where are we right now?"

The conversation continued like that for some time, with simple back-and-forth questions. Jo had advised you not to share too much sensitive information, and you couldn't help but get the inkling of a feeling that they were right.

The way that Shalnark would ask you questions before he immediately turned back to his phone alighted some anxiety in your gut, so you tried to turn the conversation back on them.

"So, you say that my soulmate here is your boss? What do you do?"

You didn't miss the beat of silence, but you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had been put on the spot.

"We're traders, mostly," Shalnark started, "We travel around, buying and selling antiques and treasures and stuff!"

"Wow, that sounds like fun!"

"It can get tiring sometimes, but it's really fulfilling!"

There was a breath of relief from the car before Nobunaga spoke up, excitedly telling you a story of a time they had visited your home country for their business. Finally, it felt as if the atmosphere was relaxing, with everyone joining in to add details to the story.

You smiled softly, relieved that you no longer felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. It was pitch-black outside the car, and there were very few other cars on the road, so you felt safe enough to relax your grip on the steering wheel just a touch as well.

As you leaned back in the driver's seat, listening to Phinks avidly tell you about the food they had enjoyed in the capital of your home country, you felt the night's excitement finally hit you.

And how unlucky that you had just relaxed when you suddenly found yourself back in your own living room.

--//--

Chrollo snapped awake in his place, feeling that he had gone from his spot sitting to lying down in the blink of an eye. Immediately, he threw himself into a standing position, assuming the car had been surprise attacked.

At the same moment, he reached for his knife while attempting to summon Bandit's Secret. His anxiety only heightened when he realised that he had neither.

Finally trying to observe the situation and pinpoint his potential attacker, he slowly began to piece together what was going on.

He was in a neat bedroom and had been lying in bed. On the bedside clock, he read 21:29 in red blinking letters.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

His soulmate.

Ten years ago, he had made sure that his soulmate date was entirely obscured by his spider tattoo, going as far as to go to a different tattoo artist than the rest and killing them afterwards. He had to protect his soulmate, lest they be used against him. But in his attempt to defend them, he had completely forgotten to prepare anything.

Shit.

He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings now that he wasn't in danger. A mirror poised on one wall allowed him to observe his soulmate. He ran a hand over his cheek as he watched the skin move in abject fascination. All these sensations were raised in intensity; even in this body without Nen, he felt everything to a pinpoint. He suddenly became aware that he could taste a tiny bit of mint; they had even taken the time to brush their teeth to ensure his comfort.

There was an envelope taped to the inside of the door, obviously meant for him. Picking it off the door with an uncharacteristic level of gentleness, he sat back down on the bed to read.

The letter nearly sprung tears to his eye; how blessed was he to have someone so passionate! He could feel the depth of emotion poured into the letter, the way you spilt your heart out on the page.

He sat on the bed, eyes scanning over every line, reading and rereading the poetry before him.

"Do you think they're okay? I heard some movement inside, but it's been silent since. Do you think they fell and hurt their head?"

"Ugh, I'll knock and go check."

It hadn't occurred to him that there would be other people here - just another example of the care and thought you had put in.

He opened the door to a freckled face, who wore an expression of surprise as their hand was still in the air, having been about to knock. Immediately, he turned on the charm, knowing he could at least cover up for his lack of planning on this end.

"Oh, sorry about that; I didn't realise I was expected!" He added his best chuckle, followed by, "My soulmate is quite the poet; I've been entranced!"

He waved the letter to show it off before stepping past the newcomer. But he stopped briefly while he was right next to them. He could feel it.

The cold, calculating look in their eye, the robust build, the scars along their hands. They were from Meteor City.

With a polite nod, he continued into the living room, though he could feel that person's eyes on him the whole way. He was greeted with three cakes and a wide selection of snacks and drinks. He cursed that you wouldn't be getting such a cosy reception on your end.

The conversation flowed easily as soon as he introduced himself; everyone was excited to tell him things or ask him questions. He easily lied his way through questions about his profession; it was like second nature to the charismatic thief. Everyone in attendance was charmed by him except that damn person from Meteor City. Just as he began considering if he might have to kill them, they leaned forwards, interrupting another one of your friends.

"You smoke?"

Chrollo had smoked once or twice in his youth but had never had a taste for it. He shook his head no, hoping they would drop it there.

"Too bad, 'cause I do, and I want a private chat with you. Step outside."

With their authoritative voice, he knew he was not avoiding the following conversation.

The biting chill on his cheeks felt much sharper than usual, his own body having learned to withstand much harsher conditions. However, he was scarcely given a moment to enjoy the sensation before Jo interrupted.

"You're from Meteor City."

"I'm aware."

"Hmph. Are you a thief?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

"My work isn't the prettiest, but I'm not that low. I owe that to YN."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They lifted me up and out of that place of their own goodwill. When I escaped that place, we met by chance, and they offered their hand to give me a new life. They're the reason I stay on the straight and narrow. I'll do anything to protect them; you should know that."

"I will, too; surely you should know that. I'm their soulmate."

"And you're also a thief. Probably a prolific one, from how easily you lied about your career. I want to protect them for their sake; you just want to protect them for your own sake. You won't be taking them anywhere; I'll steal them away where you'll never find them again if you try."

"That's quite the threat; are you sure you can follow through?"

"I'll have to, for them."

Chrollo chuckled at this silly notion. As if they could really do anything to take his soulmate away now that he knew they were here.

He watched Jo's silhouette retreat back into the warm light of your home, a smirk spread across his face at their sheer bravery, before everything changed.

--//--

Snapping back to your own body, now standing, was jarring, to say the least. Jo looked over their shoulder at your gasp as you nearly lost your balance, rushing over to catch you before you hurt yourself.

"Oh, hey there!" You laughed, looking up at them.

"Hey." They sounded standoffish, but their smile was undeniable.

"What are we doing outside?"

"Oh, I just wanted a smoke, and he followed me to chat."

You couldn't smell any smoke in the air, and you felt like something was being hidden from you, but you were just so tired and happy to be back that you chose to push that down for now.

"I'm gonna go to bed. Can you tell the others to go home? I need to just lie down ASAP."

"You got it. I'm gonna have to head out again soon as well, so I'll see you again whenever I get back."

--//--

"So." Machi started, addressing the newly-returned Chrollo, "What was that all about?"

Everyone was hushed, awaiting the boss's answer.

"You already know that was my soulmate. I had... forgotten to tell anyone."

More silence flooded the car as the other members of the spider internally debated whether or not they wanted to risk their necks by making a joke.

"Well, you'll be glad to know we're on the right path to get to them!" Shalnark cut in with his usual cheer, hoping to distract from the current situation.

"Really?"

"It'll be a few days even if we pick up the pace, but Feitan is currently in that country and can start keeping an eye on them ASAP. I'm concerned about their safety, especially considering their medical records."

"There's no need for too much worry," Chrollo said calmly

"What do you mean?!" Nobunaga was incredulous; how could the boss take his soulmate's safety so easily?

"Someone is protecting them already, someone we'll have to take care of, but a valuable protector, for now, all the same."

--//--

Thanks for reading!

#autism #platonic yandere #hxh x reader #hxh #yandere #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere phantom troupe #platonic x reader #platonic soulmates #platonic #soulmate au #yandere soulmate #autistic reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

Here for DG crumbs 🥹

with a non fighter, average reader like she is average and doesn't have much that stands out to her and is a dg simp. She simps hard for this man. Not a toxic or psycho fan but a supportive one

It would make my day if you could do this really! We need more dg content!!🤧

Oh right! it could be James with an average non fighter s/o as well

Thank you for reading ❤️

Ask and ye shall receive, here's a strangers to lovers (which turned out quite lengthy...)! Did this fandom just make me like DG? This plain noodle man?!

DG x Reader: Stranger to Lovers

Half fic, half hc. A normal reader comes across DG

DG came across you on one of his lonelier nights.

He knows he shouldn't be reading articles and posts trashing him, but curiosity killed the cat.

His ego is feeling uncharacteristically bruised until he comes across your comment.

You're sweet, supportive and understanding of how hard it can be in the public eye. It cheers him up that some fans still see him as human.

He takes note of your social media name but doesn't take it any further.

Fate brings you together at a fan event (actually no, your meet and greet tickets did) but the first thing that draws DG to you is your eye contact.

He's met many fans and almost all of them avoided looking at him and were giggly and shy. It's to be expected. You are the first one that looked at him squarely head on.

You didn't go crazy or ask for a lock of his hair (like some of the other more wild fans), but thanked him for what he doing in the industry.

You're articulate even as pink dusts your cheeks.

And then you kept talking and you repeat what he read that night.

He files away that info for later.

When DG finally has his moment of peace, he quickly taps in that username in the hopes that it's you.

It is.

The same person in the profile pic that posted the kind comment is also who he met mere hours ago.

It brings a little smile to his face.

Another lonely night, without any practice schedules, PTJ Entertainment issues or James Lee loose ends meant DG had time on his hands.

He's spent enough time looking through your profile and posts over the past couple weeks, whenever he could grab a minute here or there.

You're pretty normal in every sense of the word, a world removed from DG and James Lee.

He couldn't stop thinking about the idea of you.

Biting the bullet, and using a pseudonym, he sends you a message - starting a conversation based on something you last posted about.

He receives a reply within the next 20 minutes and that was that.

The hours turn into days turn into weeks turn into months.

DG finds himself stealing time so he could respond back to you.

He lets you in on vague details about his life and you tell him all about yours.

In another life, he thinks he could have been similar to you. Normal. With normal hobbies and interests. Normal issues and headaches. Normal family and normal friends.

A normal past and normal future.

You're a golden ray of truth and light cutting through his secrecy and darkness.

DG finds himself wearing a coy smile more and more from your interactions, from your late night 3am messaging and your 'good mornings' and everything inbetween.

It doesn't go unnoticed. To the extent that rumours float around that he has found a special someone. He abruptly and coldly shoots that down.

But unable to hold back anymore, one morning he asks if you want to meet up.

DG knows how it sounds: meeting a stranger (a strange man). But he feels a bond with you, one he's never had before, and hopes you feel the same way.

The minutes until your response dragged and stretched.

Until you finally put 'Ok'.

He could feel your hesitation across the screen. Usually so full of life and excitement and emotion, this simple one worded response isn't like you.

He backtracks but you're now the one insisting.

A date and location is set.

In a quiet coffee shop, set away from the main street but popular enough to not be too secluded, DG finally meets you in person again.

Did he truly think you were normal the first time he met you? How odd.

Because now he finds you radiant, beaming, glittering. Like sunshine, like moonlight.

Anything but normal.

He calls you over, and your eyes light up as you go to meet him.

You greet him by his username, but freeze when he pulls his mask down. That face would be recognised by all of Seoul.

"DG?!"

This meet up doesn't last long.

You flee in embarassment, having spilled all your secrets to one of the most famous man in South Korea as he kept his identity and life hidden away from you.

DG understands how you must how felt, the mortification. And the deception as he hid the biggest secret from you most of all.

He sits with his head in his hands.

DG doesn't hear from you for a few days, and the distance and silence feels cavernous.

It hits him like a truck that over time, you became his confidant, his best friend. Someone he could talk to and feel like a person.

He is the first one to reach out and he apologises.

He says what he can about his life, his current life. Hoping that this makes it up to you somehow.

That he promises to be truthful to you, where he can, but there are still some things he's not ready to say.

That he understands you feeling betrayed he kept his identity secret, especially during all those times you unknowingly gushed about how much you liked him.

That even though it was fair to keep his identity a secret, he should have told you as soon as it was appropriate. A lot sooner than at the cafe.

That this was something he started because of his ego, but continued because he likes you.

That he's never felt this closeness with anyone else.

That he's not sure if anyone has ever seen him properly as a person. Until you.

That he would like a second chance. Please.

Hope against hope, you eventually respond.

You ask to meet again in the same place.

In a quiet coffee shop, set away from the main street but popular enough to not be too secluded, DG meets you in person for the third time.

DG waits, anxiously fiddling with a bouquet of roses. He never does this.

You enter, and illuminate the room.

This time DG calls you over, and you give him a shy smile

He presents the bouquet, and you accept.

You become the starlight guiding and comforting him during the lonely nights.

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism fanfics #lookism fic #diego kang #kang dagyum #dg x reader #lookism dg #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #james lee #james lee x reader #wannaeatramyeon #kang dagyeom

[bogusboxed]

Boxtober - Day 8: “Wish Upon A Star”

Day 8: - Nina The Killer (2021) X GN!Reader "Shooting Stars" X “Do you remember?”

-I do not own "Nina The Killer" and do not take credit for her.

-Rating: Teens & Up.

-

PROLOGUE 

You had various maps and trackers in your hand as you still tried to support your weight. It was so heavy on your frame as you struggled to keep up with Nina. It was late in the night, and you had school tomorrow. But, here you were with Nina again. In the middle of nowhere what could possibly go wrong? "Hurry up, Reader!’ ‘I know Jeff is right around the corner!" she was updating her MySpace while she dragged you along. You could barely see the area in front of you as you just blindly followed Nina.

You two were in the middle of a desolate field with a forest in the distance. "I can’t carry all of this shit!" you complained, feeling the weight of her fangirling dragging you down. You knew you shouldn’t support her love for a literal serial killer, but you couldn’t turn her down. She saved you in middle school way too many times to complain to her now.  There wasn't any turning back from this and both of you knew it. "C'mon, bestie!" she smiled wildly as her Kandi bracelets shook in the air, sounding like a maraca.

 You didn’t know how she didn’t develop carpal tunnel or even lose complete blood flow in her arms. And along with that, she had mismatched colored gloves and wild-colored hair. From her jet-black hair to the pink raccoon stripes occasionally peeking through. Over the time you two had been friends, you figured out she was a scene kid. It was pretty obvious from just taking a look at her, but even to add onto that she also had the stereotypical personality down to a T.

The wind blew hard on you two, as the night sky was the only thing illuminating your way. As you walked through the open field, you could see everything. As the pine smell prominently came your way as the relentless breeze hit both of you. But, neither of you cared enough to point it out. "I know he’s here!" her eyes reflected the stars as she cheered, looking toward you. "We’ll know when he’s here because we’ll either see him dump a body into the field or hear screaming." you took her out of her fantasies once more. The way she thought of him was crazy. When you two got back from this, you swore you were going to have her look up maladaptive daydreaming. "Okay pls stop being such a party pooper." she tended to use online lingo as actual words. She was chronically online, but there were worse things. One was her being attracted to a murderer. 

But, thinking of it now, with this dramatic sky and the natural surroundings. You thought about you and Nina. Even with all of the constant pacing and running you did all night. You had fun. You always have had fun with her. But, sometimes you’d worry you would lose her in a crowd or that she’d leave you. But, that day never came and it never would. Her neon-colored strands of hair mixed in with her black hair made it easy to tell where she was. And even when you thought you lost her, she would always find you and drag you back on the right track. You enjoyed being her friend. You didn't mind sticking with her even with all her flaws.

"Okay, he’s deff around here!" she chirped happily as she jumped over the tall grass trying to scope him out. "I can tell 'I can smell him and he smells like absolute ass," you muttered as she heard you complain about him. She pretended to be shocked and hurt, but she knew. You already communicated that you didn’t like Jeff and even had a distaste for him. That news made her confused but pretty happy. She was happy that you could never love him the way she did, but a little sad that you hated him. Normally she’d beat the shit out of anyone who dared to say that, but you were her closest friend. And you hadn’t tried to stop her, and in fact, you helped her try to find him. So you're allowed to criticize him to some extent in her eyes.

"No cool Reader!" she frowned jokingly as she dug into her pocket. She then pulled out her phone and took something from the stuff you were holding. "Hm," she muttered to herself. She was figuring out something and you hadn’t a clue what it could be. "What is it now?" you tilted your head toward her as she pitifully typed away. She made a pouty face as she grudgingly typed. 

After some quiet silence, she made a noise that could’ve been guessed as a laugh as she smiled. You always felt her smile was off. Too large. Unnatural even, but you never told her. She soon went back to looking as she put her hand above her forehead. It looked like a salute, but she was leaning into it. She was exaggerating even while looking around. But, yet again, she has always been a drama queen. And even changed her bio to it. It made you cringe, but, even so, you didn’t say anything.

"Holy fuck!" her eyes lit up as she pointed at something in the horizon desperately. You felt a gut feeling to run. You felt something in your soul get ripped apart. You turned your head slowly. Your face was pale. It was Jeff The Killer in the far distance. But, he was still there. He was sitting on a log depressingly whilst sharpening his knife against something that looked like a bone. like a human skull. You felt your mouth go agape. "We need to run." you looked at her. Then, she turned to you, feeling insulted. "No!’ ‘I’ve spent my entire life looking for him!" Nina fought back as she stood up. "Reader, it's fine if you're too much of a pussy and a terrible friend not to allow me to talk to my crush, but you're not stopping me!" you could feel the disappointment and hurt in her tone. 

You froze as she took off slowly. She was waiting for you. She wanted you to go with her. She needed you with her even with those words she spoke. You looked up at the sky and saw a shooting star blaze through the air. Its bright white glare zoomed across the ocean's blue night sky. You wished to the star that you two wouldn’t die. You picked up your feet as you followed her nervously. She picked up her speed realizing you were there. That night, you two encountered Jeff The Killer willingly. That night, he tried to kill you, but Nina was just too persistent, so she accidentally saved your life while achieving her own goals. Everything changed after that night. And now you’re left longing that you wished for something else on that star.

END OF PROLOGUE

Many years later, you were sitting in that same field with the same person. She has changed over the years. It took a while, but she changed. From her looks to her entire personality. That fateful night under the shooting star changed both of you. That night, you never came home. You never submitted that homework that was due, and you never would. Because on that night, you choose your fate. You then gazed at the terrain around the both of you. "It looks the same," you said, as you examined the tall trees and knee-high grass. The breeze also felt nostalgic as you gazed into the clear blue sky. "Yeah," Nina grumbled, moving her body away from yours respectfully. You kept the conversation going while marveling at the beauty and irony of the situation. Nina glanced up, looking at the far trees, then at you, then back to the floor. You could tell something was wrong. Maybe you two shouldn't have come back after all these years. Was it triggering something in her? I mean, it hurt you as well, but it was just too beautiful to not indulge in.

"Do you remember when you dressed scene?" you smiled at Nina, and from the corner of your eye, you saw her return it. "Don't," she jokingly told you off as her black hair flowed in the wind. You brought up anything you could in hopes of cheering her up. "How damaged was your hair back then?" you asked, glancing at her. You've always wanted to know this but never had the time or courage to ask. You just had to know how much hair spray had been infused into her hair. "Burnt," her eyes widened as she remembered her old haircut. 

Even with all of her flaws, it was a pretty iconic look. "I wonder if those trackers are still scattered in the forest," you thought. The night you chased Nina and dropped everything to run faster. "Ben probably took 'em," she muttered, looking at you now. She had her head resting on her knees as she watched you carefully. She had a warm, calming gaze locked on you. You felt warm, even if the night was unforgivingly cold. The moonlight lit up your shared surroundings as you both just sat there taking it in. "Did you still update your MySpace after that night?" you asked her as she froze for a moment. "Yeah, whenever I could," she exhaled. You chuckled, thinking it was pretty funny. Even after almost dying, she kept up with her page.

"Do you think you would’ve done anything differently?" you spoke without thinking. You already knew the answer, but you said it nonetheless. "About the night?’ ``Yeah, I would've," Nina thought slowly as she took a moment. "I wouldn’t have been obsessed with Jeff and then I’d have listened to you instead of being a bitch." her words quickened with regret. You could just tell how she was feeling from her face and the way she was holding herself. "It’s not your fault", you tried to comfort her.

 "Yes, it is.’ ‘Don’t lie ‘It’s all my fault."  she hugged herself, pulling her knees to her chest. Trying to be as compact as possible. You could hear her exhale heavily. You could see the way her hands shook.  "Don’t even try ‘If I hadn’t pressured you so much’ ‘You wouldn’t have done any of this.’ ‘And maybe you could've had a normal life if it wasn’t for me." her words slowly softened, making them sound like a whisper. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. Having a tear unwillingly shed.

 "I wouldn't have had a normal life.' 'I would have gone after you when you went missing and ended up here." you assured her it wasn't just her, but she just wouldn't take it in. She inhaled. She didn't speak, but you could tell her voice was shaky. "I’m so sorry, Reader." She looked at you, making eye contact. Her beautiful eyes competed with the sky itself. "It’s fine-" you tried to reach her, but she’d already made up her mind. "It’s not." Nina has and will hold that above her head for the rest of her life. You knew you couldn't say anything to change her mind. It was already set in stone.

You scooted toward her fragile figure before, leaning your head against hers. You shared your warmth with her. She sat there as you took her hand into yours. Her hands were cold and clammy as you gently rubbed them whilst having to support their complete weight.  "I love you," you said something more empowering, even if it had slipped out. You knew she would listen to that. She looked at you frantically with widened eyes. "What would I do without you?" she cried into your shoulder as she held your hand. 

She just broke down completely, allowing you to mend her back. You brushed her hair back with your hand as you exhaled. You wished she would just accept that you forgave her and that it wasn't just her. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, a light blaring from the sky. A shooting star flew through the sky once again, just like it did before. As you gazed at it, time seemed to slow down. You had a second chance. You thought about it, still able to hear her muffled crying. You whispered to the star under your breath, "I forgive you." before, you went back to taking care of your girlfriend, hoping she'd learn to forgive herself.

-

#day 8 #creepypasta #nina the killer x reader #Nina hopkins x you #nina the killer x you #nina the killer x y/n #nina hopkins x reader #fanfiction #fluffober #fictober22

[veneris13]

I lied when I said this was gonna be my only fic. It turns out I got more ideas for short fics. So, here's my generation au (Gen!au for short).

Note: my yuu/mc is used for this fic.

Part One:

Besides from the ones bound here, the rest have become a sort of blur. You could remember the eventful days with them, sure, but unless they actually stayed there they would be long gone from your mind.

You have to say, you and the ghosts go a long way back. From the chaotic first meet, to playing spelldrive, to working on a guest room together. In a way, they have become the therapist's therapist. Well, not all the time, but still.

However, the house still gives you haunted vibes. Most of the ghosts revealed themselves to you, but it was obvious that there were still some hiding.

Yet, it seems like they couldn't hide forever.

You met when you were cleaning up the guest room. It really didn't end well when Leona and Tsunotaru when to visit at the same time...

Dust piles up into your dustpan as you hum to yourself. Despite enjoy your company with the first years, it was nice to get alone time every now and them. You wipe the coffee table clean, before feeling a chill go down your back. Thinking it was another ghost trying to prank you, you try to brush in off. But, the chill didn't leave. It fact, it made your entire body freeze for a second. Normally, you wouldn't care, but it got too uncomfortable to bare.

"Alright," you say, "can you guys calm down?"

Yet your request was only met with an awkward silence. You were more stumped than anything.

"Guys, I'm serious."

... Something wasn't right. Either they were real persistent on pranking you, or something else was up.

You groan and put your cleaning supplies away, whoever pranked you did not want you clean. Your hand reaches for the door knob, before another chill goes through you. Okay, this was starting to get annoying. The freezes were getting more mildly uncomfortable by the second.

Now standing outside the guest room, you look on each side of the hallway. But it seems like the ghost just doesn't want to leave you alone.

This time, it feels like a wind. The gust of cold comes from the left, and continues to the right.

"Wha- hey! What is with this game?" You fix your hair.

After retying your messed up hair, you chase after the wind. Well, you're not sure if it was wind. It was more gentle than your average burst of wind. Looking back, it was a wild goose chase.

The gust always strayed from you, but never too far where it won the goose chase. You were still running after the wind when it suddenly dissipated. It was good that the chills stopped bothering you, but now you felt stupid.

The chase left you to the end of a hallway, a hallway you didn’t remember seeing in this house. Then again— you didn’t even try entering the guest room until headmaster Crowley suggested turning it into a guest room. Maybe the ghost pranking you was behind this door, and maybe you’d give them a stern talking.

Your hand reaches for the door and pushes it open, and you were right— to an extent. You were greeted with two ghosts bickering, one dressed like a Victorian man and one dressed like a modern game geek. Since when did these two move in? Considering how they were right in front of you, it was hard to hear what they were saying.

“What were you thinking?” The Victorian man scolds, “We could have been caught you bow wow mutton.”

“First of all,” The geek says, “What is a bow wow mutton of gods sake, and I was just trying to have some fun…”

“Right I forget you kids don’t know these words… It stands for dog flesh.”

“God, you boomers really do have weird slang.”

“You can say that to me when you’re not playing those weird phiny games of yours.”

“It’s called a phone you know!”

“Um…” you say, loud enough for them to hear. The ghosts turn to you, one has a look of shock, and another with relief.

“I told you they were going to find out!” The Victorian man says.

“They were going to find out eventually!” The geek retorts.

Yikes, you probably should break this fight between them before it gets messy.

“I’m sorry— are you new here?” You ask.

“We’ve always been here, Yuu.”

“What do you mean, you’ve always been here? And how do you know my name?” you ask.

“C’mon, answer their questions, Henry. Don’t torture them with your boring stories.” geek says.

The Victorian man (who you now presume is Henry), groans. “Right, it appears a human showing up in a turn world is not uncommon here.”

“Like an isekai.”

“Do be quiet, Amy.” Henry shushes the ghost beside him.

“This process has been repeated for many years. Someone will be dropped here, and an ignorant headmaster claims to send them home— only to leave them in this ramshack of a house.”

“Hey, the house has gotten better over the years.” Amy says.

“Only because those slimy men took over the dorm!”

“You mean Jade, Floyld, and Azul?” You ask.

“So those are their names… good to know.”

“Anyway, enough about grandpa, I’m Amy!”

Okay... this is weird. "Um, hey, Amy. Name's Yuu."

"Yuu? That's a weird name." She says as she takes your hand.

"Get that a lot."

"So, you haven't died yet?"

"Does it look like they're dead?" Henry asks.

"You never know!"

The ghosts continue to bicker, yet you still have one more question to ask.

"Hey, um, you said there were more, right?"

"Yeah?" Amy says.

"How many are there, and how far back does it go?"

#twst #twst mc #twisted wonderland #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #twst au #au #mc #yuu #twst yuu #oc

[beann-e]

Haikyu characters reacting to their s/o screaming back at them

Nekoma Characters reacting to their s/o Screaming back at them

Read Part One Here

kenma

-it would not take much -_-

- Kenma doesn’t even notice he’s yelling at you or much less using his raised voice when talking to you

-he’s so used to screaming at kuroo through his mic that when he’s finally pissed off and bubbling ; it just happens after you try to ask him what he wants for dinner at the wrong time

-post time skip

“ go left “ The sound of the controller clicking swirled through the room as your boyfriends eyes followed the screen at every turn his character took “ kuroo I said go left “

“ uh which one ? “

kenmas face went into a straight line as kuroos body stiffened knowing he hadn’t been listening in the first place “ no wait which way I meant —which way “

“kuroo I said go left “

“ oh “

“ yeah — go left “ the strain in your boyfriends voice was evident

it showing off the sliver of annoyance he was trying to hold back knowing that you were somewhere in the same house

he hated for you to see him anything other than calm

Anytime he showed any bit of annoyance with you or even showed he was about to give you attitude you quickly shut it down. It was obvious to him who was the dominant one in the relationship and he had no problem with it

Honestly he was scared of what you would think when you finally saw him fly off the handle. Of course you’d seen him have an attitude he was a gamer that was normalized to have one after a lost game but, it wasn’t often he showed you that side because kenma doesn’t do losing

so what would happen if he finally got ticked off so badly due to something that was ‘just a game’ to you would you be scared?

he couldn’t help but think that you would run for the hills and then screw him over in the breakup and tell everyone he still wears tidy whities and forgets to go pee during gameplays unless you remind him by asking had he peed all day

“ hey du— “

“ don’t talk until you kill the leftover guys so we can win“

“ ken you don’t think I can multitask “ kuroos laugh fell into the room over kenmas headphones “ I used to do it everyday i was the captain of the vb team, I keep you in line “

“ sure sure — but are you watching your corners “

“ I keep everyone healthy , and i’m hot , plus I’m about to win this gam— I died “

the silence in the moment spoke volumes before kenma could

his hand grabbing the controller harshly as he refused to blink seeing the word loser flash in bright letters on his screen

Body growing hot and sweaty while he tried to hold in his anger and process what just happened so he could determine the next best course of action

Knowing , He just knew

The amount of trouble he’d get in if you walked in to hear him screaming at kuroo shouting words you hated when he used

He was trying to hold it all in

really he was

he just needed some quiet first just some silence to figure out how to calm himself down his brain going over serveral images of kuroo dead at the bottom of stairs maybe even him getting hit too hard with one of kenmas sets when they played 4 on 4matches

Anger only growing when he heard a voice pour in that he couldn’t figure out who it belonged to much less cared

“ hey ke— “

“ Do you ever fucking listen “ his voice was hard and threatening “ do you ever just shut the fuck up and “

he threw his headphones to his keyboard “ and listen — no you don’t— you go quiet and now here i am upset because you simply don’t listen — answer the questions i’m asking you— you fucking sea creature“

his body only growing hotter as his neck got red eyes darting for a person to scream at and take his anger out on

“ answer me “ he screamed pain eteched in his voice as he finally turned to find you

a look crossing over his face before he blinked looking to the floor then up at you in confusion before turning back to his screen that glowed in the dark room anger hitting him all over again when he saw kuroos wide open mouth and their dead avatars laying on the ground

“ Why the fuck — how the —- I always fucking lose when that asshole —that miscalculated creation— whenever he plays with me it’s so serious to me — i make money off of it i make — i get deals and i — I can’t — can’t lose them they’ll think i’m not good enough— i“

he slammed his fist into the wall speaking low

“ I hate fucking losing “

he turned to you “ it’s not nice y/n — I tried to fucking do your shitty routine of calming myself down first but it just “

he moved closer to you with anger pouring from his body

your eyes wide in a look of fear when he grabbed your face pointing to his screen “ look — “

he screamed in your face when you didn’t tear your eyes away from his “ BABE I SAID LOOK“

your eyes never leaving his as he just grew angrier at your incompetence

“ so your not fucking listening to me either “ his voice grew questioning “ are your ears dirty just like kuroos ? huh ? are y’all apart of some shitty cult for mute wannabes “

his hand gripped tighter on your cheeks “ i’m so stupid your just as fucking dumb as that asshole — fucking — I bet you wanna date him huh — “

his mind ran wild as he thought of the two of you together insecurity blooming

“ you want a loser like him over me right ? you have to like kuroo — look at him you want to date kuroo right “

he laughed “ fucking slu— “

“ finish it and we’ll be playing our own game of kenma getting his ass beat until he finally gives up and cries “

your eyebrows quirked up as you held eye contact with him “ trust me you’ll lose “

you looked at the male in front of you in disgust

“ get your shitty cheeto dusted gamer hands off of me “

his hands loosened their hold on you

“ all the way off you dirty imbecile “

you scoffed as he dropped his hand in a rush of fear

“ I bet your dirty ass didn’t even wash them after I made you pee earlier — yeah made — you wanted to get back to that sweaty chair that badly ? “

his cheeks grew hot as he blinked himself out of his trance only to see what he’d gotten himself into

“ who do you think you are talking to like that “

your stare making him shake even more in fear

You always scared him when you were upset wether you were taller or not your annoyance alone at an action he’d done scared him enough

Your words stood tall and poured in on him making him feel like he was suffocating but, he knew he needed to hear this. You only did this when his anger was out of control like he knew it could be. He stayed on his games all day and all night which was the only way to provide your shared income

at least until he could get his company up and running he had yet to sign contracts because he said he needed to read them first and reading took too much work

this was how he paid your bills. It stressed him out knowing that any day someone on the internet could call him a loser and that same day your steady flow of money may trickle in slower than usual

So when he lost a game any game even something as simple as Mario or even kirby it pissed him off because he couldn’t help but shoulder all the responsibility of taking care of you and himself. He didn’t want to be the reason you lost that stability and all of this catered into his rage. A rage only you could catch and calm down with your sheer words.

“ who do you think you are “ your voice came out low and calm as you spoke down on him “ answer me “

“n-no on — no one babe “

“ don’t babe me “ your hand pressed on his chest “ you don’t deserve that not after you talked to me that way “

“ I -i’m sorry “

“ for what “

“ f-for talking to you like that and “ his voice came out soft as he spoke

“ I cannot hear you “

“ fuck i’m sorry for talking to you that way —and for using force —force and grabbing you like that “

“and i’m just expected to forgive you? you know I hate this — you know this and yet you keep doing it? why ? why do you keep shouldering this and then lashing out “

“ p-please “

“ mm — i’m not seeing it ken— I mean you treat me like one of your other asshole friends and then on top of it you grabbed my face this time— you’ve never gone that far “

“ y-yes I know — I know “

“ so you can see my problem with just accepting your apology right “

“ y-yes ma’am “

“ oh — “ you laughed as you spoke “ now we’re using nice names huh “

“ i—I thought it’d work“ he pouted

“ I wanna forgive you ken “ you looked at him as his head dropped in embarrassment cheeks going red

“ I really do babe but “

“ I swear I won’t do it again y/n “

you thought for a moment staring at the boy in front of you who was pissing his pants in fear

“ y-y/n I swear I didn’t know it was you I was angry and I —I thought kuroo was talkin— “

“ but you realized it was me? “

he paused

“ you even looked from me and back to your screen so you knew correct “

“ yes “

“ and yet you still yelled at me and grabbed my face “

“ really i’m sorry— I wasn’t there all the way “

you took a deep breath before looking to his computer eyes made up in a squint and then trailing back to the boy in front of you

“ ok ken “ his eyes glowed in happiness

“ you— your forgiving me “ he laughed almost mocking you knowing he’d never been let go this quickly you usually took away his gaming system until he’d learned to calm down

he even started ‘doing’ yoga, if you count playing the youtube videos on the tv while he played on his apple watch that you’d forgotten to take, just to fool you into giving his game back “ this easily“

your eyes moved pointedly to his as he fell back into submission

“ i’m sorry I just meant you arent more upset “

“ well i’m deciding that since it was the first time you ever went to that extent of yelling at me I’m gonna let you off the hook “

you smiled “ also I thought you already got enough punishment “

“ h-huh “

you let your head move up to face his computer screen in a slight nod his eyes lighting up before his face fell in sadness

He never meant to fall submissive let alone show who was the dominant one in the relationship to anyone outside of you especially not with kuroo on the other line

“ I don’t think kuroo minds much babe it’s ok “ you said happily changing the whole way you carried yourself earlier and the way you spoke your body easing after beating into kenma

“ no trust me he doe— “

“ goddamn “

your eyes fell onto his friends open mouthed smile

“ and you just let ‘em do you like that “

kenmas eyebrows came together in sadness

“ damn ken —“

your eyes went hard on kuroo

“ and do you think your any better ? because from what i’ve heard churro it seems to me like you couldnt even keep your own team on a leash much less that lev kid so ? “

“ god “ kuroo coughed shifting in his seat whispering softly to himself “ so hot “

he shook his head before speaking again a little bit louder “ uh no— no I completely understand y/n —god i just know your fun “ he laughed

“ kenma keep listening to your s/o don’t mind me “

he moved to log off speaking under his breath “ so fucking scary —swear i’m bringing ‘em in to scare my vb kiddos— shit “

you shook your head in confusion “ uh wha—”

“ he had a — he had a crush on you and yeah I”

“ oh well “ you moved to throw your arms around him in happiness his body stumbling back at the action as he cautiously wrapped his hands around your back

“ n-not in trouble “

“ not in trouble “

“ still love me “

“ still love you “

“ then can I pla- “

“ no “

“ nevermind I didn’t want —want to play anyways “

“ that’s good “

“ yeah “ he drawed out as you grabbed his hand pulling him to the living room “ but babe the monitors still on just one matc— “

your grip tightned on his hand “ movie ken “

“ got it movie — movie “

he spoke low following you wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your cheek “ movie first — game later “

lev

-I don’t think he would ever ever ever scream at you but he would totally say something hurtful and not even realize it because kuroo and kenma said it to him

-so he’s literally just using what he was taught but In the wrong way

- not a time skip

“ lev can you help me “ you shouted to the taller male as you made your way across the court his hands cupping around his mouth as he stared down on you from the other side “ yeah “ he smiled “ totally “

you copied him a smile itching to spread across your face “ just because I yell doesnt mean you yell “

“ well as bossy as you are you should know I’m going to “

your face dropped before it fell back into a happy smile mind racing with thoughts of maybe hes just making a joke he knows you hate when people say that about you

“ hey uh lev ? “

“ yeah babe “ he said running over to you

“ let’s not say that ok cause it kinda — it really hurt my feelings “ his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down on you his voice vibrating along the gym before he smiled again “ babe I like the design you added to your face I didn’t notice but other people said you looked good with it and yeah —honestly they were right “

“ huh — design? “

“ yeah it’s red it’s right by your eyebrow “

your hands moved quickly to cover the pimple from his view eyes darting across the gym hoping no one else heard and was trying to take a look at it

“ it’s fine it’s fine maybe if you put on some makeup you can hide it right ? i mean if you don’t like the design like I do i mean that’s what you usually use it for right ? “

your eyebrows went up face holding nothing but sadness as you spoke “ do you— lev baby do you really think i’m bossy “

he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet in excitement as he kept going “ yeah — I do everything you tell me to and I like it i’m like a puppy and your the master “

you could feel your body heat up at his words his smile spreading wider as he turned to his awestruck teammates

“ babe it’s ok id follow you to the end of the earth because I don’t understand your just stringing me along”

your hands dropped the balls you held onto from picking them up off the floor. head cocking to the side as you studied him trying to see what sparked this new way of thinking

“ oh god “

“ he’s so fucking —so so fucking clueles- “

“ stupid just outright stupid is what he is “ you said as his eyebrows creased face struggling to find the right way to react to the burning hot anger he felt radiating off of you in waves “ lev baby who told you this “

you walked a bit closer to him head leaned back to see him clearly “ who made you think this way “

“ uh what “ he shook his head face coming up in a pout “ babe I — “ he played with his fingers as he looked off to the side hand moving to run across his neck “ for some reason I feel like i’m in trouble —I did—did I do something wrong baby ?“

“ this is not cool lev not helpful, not sweet and nice it’s hurtful “

“ no what ? wait i’m “ he took his hand out to grab your arm his face made up in pure confusion “ no i’m —i’m complimenting you “

“ you— your complimenting me? “

“ yeah “ he smiled struggling to hold it up as his eyes darted across your face

“ lev baby “ you faked a smile as your eyes hardened “ think about your words —what have you just said “

“ well I said that your my master and i’m like a puppy“ he smiled as he thought back “ only because I love you and would do anything you tell me and because i’m hyper and sometimes you have to explain stuff to me in simple form because I can’t pay attention when anyone else talks but you “

he kept going “ then I said that I do anything you tell me to and I would “ he smiled harder voice sure of himself“ because I like following you and making you happy “

he scratched his neck face flashing a deep red “ then — then I said that you cover up your bossine— ok i’m sorry “

his face made up into a pout as he slumped “ really I didn’t know I thought it was nice I heard the team saying it in the back rooms and I though— “

“ FUCKING IDIOT “

“ LEV WHAT THE FUCK “

“ HOLY SHIT LEGS ARE YOU SERIOUS “

levs face dropped as he turned to kenma “ legs seriously ? “

kenma shrugging as he continued to play his hand held game “ eh well everyone else was saying something and you annoy me so — I present legs “

he sighed as he turned back only to see your eyes holding nothing but garbage fires In them as you stared at the group of guys huddled together

“ speak “ everyone whimpered as you stared them down “ explain to me why my boyfriend is telling me I need makeup to cover my pimple ”

kuroos uncomfortable laugh left him quickly as he looked away from the both of you rocking back and forth in his shows “ well um y/n “ he coughed “ you see we were — we’re guys y/n we were making jokes and you see lev doesn’t understand “

“ well I do so explain “

he jumped “ we thought— “

“ not quick enough you sweaty catboy“

“ god ok he came to us wanting to know how to compliment you he said he didn’t want to say anything dumb and —so that made us realize we can really make him do anything cause he’s so clueless—thought if we could get lev to say some dumb shit—trust me we didn’t go that far “ he said pointing to lev who was picking up the balls you’d dropped on the floor chasing after one that rolled away

“ then you’d break up with him and I guess at least one of us would have a chance — well except kenma he says he has princess peach as his wife —wait who the fu—I actually don’t know who that is ken is that an online girlfriend “

he furrowed his brows actually puzzled by his earlier words “ I don’t know why it seemed so normal to me at the time “

he shook his head “ but lev is so fucking stupid that he said everything fucking wrong — we literally just told him what we personally like about you —gave him some corny pickup lines but he said everything wrong like even the phrase about your makeup we were saying how you don’t wear any or when you do it’s not obvious because your natural beauty just radiates through it— then the next thing we talked about is how strong and just how you take directive I guess — and we — we thought it was hot “

“ then where did he get the stuff he said from “ your voice went high now you were confused he couldn’t have made that stuff up

“ y/n he’s just fucking stupid where do you think “ he rolled his eyes “ he made it up because he didn’t understand “

levs eyes widened as he had stopped paying attention to the situation taking place hours ago “ uh I cannot confirm or deny that statement but I will say you are very very beautiful my love “

your heart warmed as the team groaned your body moving into his as you kissed him softly “ did I do something wrong ? “

“ no lev your ok “

“ ok I never want you to feel bad or like y’know how kenma feels I always feel like he’s so angry “ your boyfriend shivered as he locked eyes with kenma who was ready to pounce on him claws showed as he gripped his game harshly “ see —- so angry “

“ not angry lev just “ you looked at him seriously “ babe you have to pay attention to what you say you may say something really really wrong to me one day and then — “

“ and then you’ll tell me what I did wrong while we cuddle and drink hot chocolate“

you smiled squeezing him harder “ no — then i’ll break your kneecaps so you’ll never be able to play volley again and i’ll dye your hair black in your sleep so people will think you look like a tall dirty mop “

he shook before he led you out of the door the team watching as you left leaving all of them to curse silently about their failed plan “ he’s the stupidest guy on the team and he — he got that “

“ bet he doesn’t even know what he’s doing when he’s tapping it “

kuroo laughed “ yeah right like he even gets that far — they probably gotta explain how to continue a kiss without him focusing and staring straight into their eyes — he’s probably learning how to ‘multitask’ right now as we speak—lucky idiot “

the doors to the gym slammed open roughly a few minutes later as you held levs hand tightly behind the door “ HEY ASSHOLES “

everyone tuned to you in fear for themselves and the tall male behind you who you dragged like a mom in a store his eyes stuck on the lollipop that stuck out from his mouth “ guys y/n found me a lollipop—she stuffed it in my mouth when I told her the joke you guys told me to “

“ w-what joke “

“ the one where I called the sex line and said that I requested them because I heard good reviews “

the teams heads all dropped knowing they’d never said anything of the sort or even along the line he’d messed up their original words yet again and put not only himself but them in danger

“ if you guys ever try to taint my boyfriend with your dumb fucking words again I swear I will end you all —kenma i’ll buy every copy of the new game that you want that’s coming out — literally blow all my money so you can’t ever play the stupid game until im ready to allow you to “ his mouth going up in an o as he still had his attention on his game hands only tightening a bit at the threat his body moving behind kuroo for safety

“ kuroos chemistry lab will become a garbage chute for my lunch trays “ kuroos body slumping as he draped himself over kenma only to get pushed off and fall on the floor in pain your mouth moving to tell everyone else on the team what would happen if they didn’t respect your boyfriend and treat him like the nice , caring guy he was

Until finally you flashed a smile and walked off leaving the team in disarray as they couldn’t figure out if you just grew that much hotter or if they were having heat flash from the pissed off emotions they felt when lev turned around and winked at them while he ran his hand down your shoulder to land at your lower back as he followed you out

#kenma x you #haikyuu kenma #kenma hcs #kenma x reader #haikyuu kozume #kozume x you #kozume kenma #hq kozume #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo headcanons #lev haiba #haiba x reader #haiba lev imagine #lev haikyuu #lev x y/n #lev x reader #lev x you #nekoma #haikyuu x s/o #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq x y/n

[sukirichi]

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event: 

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours.  Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks. 

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words. 

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo-satoru-x-reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader romance #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader drabbles #jjk #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fics #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #suki: 500 milestone event

[reflectingiridescent]

I don't think Seven's completely cut off from her Voyager friends. I think they're all in that very cemented "old friend" stage where they go for a year without talking and then pick up right where they left off. But Seven's got so much guilt over Icheb, you know?

(lengthy headcanon-like thinking to follow)

If Icheb was Starfleet and died, there's no way that Starfleet goes over a decade without hearing about it. There's no way the Voyager crew doesn't get together to mourn him. And knowing our darling Seven, she probably doesn't tell anyone the full story of what happened. But she doesn't have to. They all know something horrific happened, and they know better than to push her to talk about it. They know she blames herself, because like, that's Seven. Of course she would, whether or not she was there. But they don't know the extent to which her guilt extends.

And Seven. Honey baby Seven. Who has such a long history of waiting too long to let people know how she feels about them because of her trauma. Who could barely admit to herself that she thought of Icheb as her son. She feels so guilty. She pushes everyone away and goes out to the stars to help, to do dangerous things that make moral sense to her. To maybe find the woman who betrayed her worse than anyone ever has and, in turn, caused Seven to betray (unknowingly, but Seven's done plenty of bad things unknowingly as a drone and has decided that that's not an excuse) the person she loved the most. And she stays away.

Not for everything, of course. She shows up for Naomi Wildman's milestones (she somehow never misses them, and no one can figure out how she knows but they don't ask too many questions when it comes to Seven and Naomi), some of Harry's promotions (there are so many). Her hair is wavy and wild, and she's in foreign, rough fabrics that no one's used to seeing her in. No one really knows when she's going to show up, but she'll show up and kind of be...ghostlike. She doesn't talk much. Everyone knows not to talk to her too much. One day, when Seven's not there but everyone else is, Miral looks around the silent room and says what they're all thinking.

"I miss her."

Tuvok looks around the room - at this point, there are very few of them who don't understand what it's like to be a parent. "Loss of a child is acute," he says. "It is hard to understand, but it is my hope you never will."

And it's like that for years. They hear the odd tale now and again about Seven's achievements as a Fenris Ranger. They even hear that she's working with Admiral Picard (which lol, the rumor mill is wild these days).

Only one of them is there to see it. But one is enough (gossip, you know).

I personally like the idea of it being B'elanna.

So B'elanna's visiting Starfleet Academy to accept yet another honorary award. Tom and Miral arrive in a few days, but B'elanna is curious, wandering around, kind of hoping to get a glimpse of the first Romulan cadet.

She doesn't (that happens later). But she does see Raffi. (Raffi and B'elanna were roommates for like two weeks during B'elanna's brief stint at the Academy, and they ended up having to switch rooms after that because of some weird student mix-up. But trust me, it was enough to make an impression, and also Raffi 1000000% had a little crush on B'elanna, but B'elanna was too angry and preoccupied with her own stuff at the time to see it.)

B'elanna's happy for Raffi - she's heard rumors about her over the years, but B'elanna is certainly no one to judge. But she hears things are better now. Anyway, the sunlight is lovely in San Francisco that day, and it's bouncing off Seven's hair so nicely that B'elanna takes a minute to realize that it's her.

With Raffi.

Holding hands.

B'elanna stares just a little too long, which is a surefire way to get ex-Starfleet Intelligence to notice you.

"B!"

Raffi catches up to her at a run, with Seven following slowly but purposefully behind. Seven then watches on while Raffi spins her story to get B'elanna to come to lunch with the both of them - but oh wow, looks like Raffi's late for class. She'll see them after. They'll catch up in the meantime.

Raffi rushes away - she's always been a whirlwind of a person - leaving B'elanna looking at Seven.

Seven looks down. Her swaggery posture slips just a little bit, and for a minute, B'elanna's catapulted back to the early days when Voyager had just come back to Earth. She and Seven (and Miral) had clung to each other in those days much more than they'd probably ever admit. "I'm sorry," says Seven. "I didn't know you'd be here, and I also didn't plan on staying long enough to inconvenience anyone."

"You're never an inconvenience," B'elanna tells her.

(They're both a little choked up while also doing the other the kindness of ignoring it.)

"Are you well?" asks Seven, because she doesn't know what to say, and B'elanna smiles and nods.

"You look good," says B'elanna. She doesn't have to say "happier".

When Raffi leaves class, she gets a message from Seven telling her to meet them for banana pancakes.

#and this is how raffi becomes a lot of the voyager crew's favorite person lol #I'm just so sure that seven visited raffi at least once and word got back to the voyager crew somehow that seven was #(1) okay and (2) with a very cute and smart lady #seven of nine #b'elanna torres #raffi musiker #miral paris #tuvok #icheb #voyager #star trek #star trek picard

[cazimagines]

A Freudian Slip - The Sequel

Synopsis: Zemo was always getting on your nerves. Yes, he was hot and god you were attracted to him but he was also your enemy. After what happened last night you were trying your best to pretend it never happened however Zemo isn’t willing to let you do that.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/Tags: FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE, Smut, Oral sex, Fingering, Slight fluff, mentions of guns

Author's note: You guys really liked ‘the Freudian Slip’ and I’ve had a few requests to write a sequel, so here I am. This is my first time attempting to write smut for all y'all who are horny for Zemo so um hopefully it’s good. IF YOU KNOW ME NO YOU DON’T

My Master list

“Madripoor knows how to give New York a run for its money,” Sam says as they walk past all these containers.

“They know how to party,” Zemo replies, walking up beside you. His arm grazes against yours, making you tense. Picking up your pace, you reach Bucky and leaving Zemo behind.

Last night you might have made the worst mistake of your life. You had made out with Zemo.

Zemo!

The man that was a terrorist. The man who had caused the Avengers to split up. You hated him! You had to hate him. Right?

Yet when you glance over to him, you can’t help feel warm inside. Goosebumps crawl up your skin as you hear him speak. That accent of his drove you wild. You want to kiss that smirk off his face when he looks at you. His brown eyes bearing into yours. He made you feel alive. He made you feel all hot and bothered. He made you feel confused.

Earlier at Sharon’s party, you were watching him. Usually, you like a party, but this time you held back. Zemo looked around for you, but he eventually gave up and danced on his own. You smiled as you watched him have fun. For those moments he seemed so innocent. You wanted to join him dancing, but Sam and Bucky were already suspicious of you and Zemo. Why it had taken you two so long to reach them after you split up. You had to distance yourself from him. No matter how hard you found it.

You swallow, pushing away the thoughts of you and him as you tried to focus back on the mission at hand.

You arrived at the crater, and Sharon handed you all earpieces to wear. Placing it in your ear and head into the crater. It was pitch black in there, making you stop to try to see anything.

Zemo was following up behind you, and as you stopped walking, he walked into you. You stiffened, feeling his body press up against yours. His arm reaches around, squeezing yours as he moves beside you. Though you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking at you.

Zemo pulled out a flashlight. He shone it in your eyes to annoy you before shining it forward to see the end of the crater. He walked forward, touching the wall, then pushed it. The wall moved, revealing it as a door as music flooded the room. He glances back at you, Sam and Bucky as you all pull out your guns. Sam and Bucky head in and you follow them as Zemo keeps the door open for you. His hand rested on the dip of your back as you walked past, but you shook it off. He turned to stare at you, but you continued to walk ahead, not giving him a second glance.

The song ‘Comin home baby’ plays out of a record as you enter. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glance around where you were. Rounding the corner, you finally see the man you had been looking for. He was quietly singing along, unaware of the people approaching him from behind. Sam and Bucky questioned him while you and Zemo held back.

You were just there for backup you didn’t want to get involved. Your eyes sneak back to admiring Zemo though, and you wonder just how involved you were. Zemo’s eyes snap to yours as he notices you staring, and he tilts his head at you, his thin lips sneaking up in a curl.

You look away, staring ahead, willing your cheeks to stop blushing.

As Sam and Bucky continued to interrogate the doctor, Zemo walked around the area. You kept trying to see what he was doing while at the same trying to make sure Zemo didn’t notice you.

Sharon runs into the room at that moment, “Guys, we’ve got to go”

Zemo quickly raises his hand, showing a gun he had found, and shoots the doctor dead.

“NO!” both you and Sam shouted, looking at Zemo in shock. Sam crashes into Zemo, holding him against the wall to stop him from shooting anyone else. You rush over and prize the gun out of Zemo’s hand, chucking it to the floor.

Before you got another moment to think, the whole crater exploded. You were flung back down, hitting your head against the floor. Searing pain crossed the back of your head and you let out a yelp of pain.

Groaning, you raised your hand to your head. Pulling it back, you see your hand covered in blood.

“Shit” you mutter trying to wipe your hand on your clothes.

You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you off the floor. You blink, trying to get the dust out of your eyes as the arms guide you out of the rubble. Finally, in the sunlight, you realize Zemo has his hands on your side pulling you along. Just as you two left the remains of the building, it explodes behind you.

“Are you okay?” Zemo questions as he turns you around to look at him. His eyes glanced up and down you in worry as he takes in the extent of your injuries.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Zemo, were they still in there!?” you ask anxiously as you look back to the burning building.

“They’ll be fine, come we need to go,” Zemo insisted, grabbing a hold of your hand again pulling you along. Your head still seized with pain making you trip slightly, but you kept it together.

“Where the hell are we going?” you ask but Zemo doesn’t answer he just keeps running and pulls you up onto a crater.

“Zemo!” you exclaim in annoyance, then your eyes widen as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“What the fuck is that”

“My mask, ”

“Your what now? Since when have you had a mask!” you question, looking at him confused.

“I’ve always had one. Now you need to duck” he ordered, looking over the edge of the crater.

“Why should I do that”

He rolls his eyes and wrenches you down, “Can’t you listen to me for once y/n'' he exclaims. He then grabs your gun and heads to the front of the crate wearing his mask. He shoots a pipe, and it explodes, sending a shock wave through you. You collapse to the ground feeling faint from the blood loss and Zemo rushes back to you.

He puts his hand on the back of your head to help you up, and his eyes widen when he pulls his hand away to see blood covering it.

“Why didn’t you say something” he angrily muttered.

“I’m fine” you groaned, but the black spots you could see in your vision said otherwise.

Zemo wrapped one arm under your legs and the other under your back and picked you up. He held you close to his chest as he ran forward holding you in his arms,

After a few minutes, he helps you stand up, letting you lean on him. You hated how dependent you were on Zemo at this moment, but a darker side of you enjoyed being this close to him. Leaning against a crate, you watch as Zemo finally pulls off his mask and opens one crate. Your eyes widen in shock as you watch him ride out in a car.

He gets out and opens the passenger seat door for you. Putting one arm around your waist and making you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He guides you to the car and helps you in. Both of you don’t speak. He knew you were too embarrassed to, and at this moment he didn’t want to push you.

Driving along you two picked up Sam and Bucky, who were thankful for seeing you alive. The car drive lasted a few hours, but eventually, you arrived at a new city where Zemo had a place you could stay.

Zemo got out of the car to help you out, but by this time you're determined to not rely on him. You pushed the door open, swung your legs out, tried to stand up, and almost fell over, but Bucky grabbed you.

“She needs medical help,” Zemo demanded as he opens the door to the house to let you in. Bucky excuses himself for a walk as Sam and Zemo help walk you into the building. They guide you to the sofa and lay you down. Sam finds some bandages to apply to your head while Zemo pours out some whiskey for you.

“To get rid of the pain,” he says, handing it to you. He sits beside you, gently putting his hand over the bandage on your head.

“Watch it” Sam growls glaring at him,

“My apologies,” Zemo quipped, removing his hand and your heart sinks a bit as he moves away.

With the pain easing, you eventually drift off into a light sleep. You don’t know how long you slept for, but when you woke up and looked around the room, you were in was empty. Feeling stronger, you stand up and start looking around the room. You notice a door off to the side where you could hear running water. Heading towards it, you gently knock on the door.

The water stops, and the door opens slightly to reveal Zemo on the other side. As he sees you, he opens the door and pulls you into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

“I-I didn’t mean to come in here, I just wanted to see who was around” you mutter as your eyes flicker up and down Zemo. He was currently dressed in a bathrobe, and from the way it looks, not much else. Your eyes focused on the necklace that hung around his neck. How low the bathrobe dipped, exposing a part of his chest. You felt your core warming up and your mind filled with thoughts.

Zemo chuckles as he watches your eyes run up and down him, “Liking what you see?”

You freeze, bringing you back to reality. “N-no” you say, turning around trying to open the door but Zemo wraps his arms around you pulling you to him. He leans his face into your neck kissing it making your eyes flutter shut and let out a slight moan.

“How's your head?” Zemo asks, pulling back from you and raising his hand to touch the bandage.

You turn your head slightly, looking at him annoyed. Hopping from trying to seduce you to a casual conversation as nothing happened.

“I’m fine”

“Well, forgive me darling for not believing you but last time you said that you weren’t”

“I feel better...thank you for helping me”

“Anytime darling” he whispers in your ear. As his body presses into you, you could feel near your ass a bulge pressing against you.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” he then asks

“I haven’t” you quickly reply. He turns you around and pushes you against the door, tilting his head and staring intently

“Don’t lie to me y/n”

His serious glare makes you feel fuzzy, makes you feel warm but also angry at him. He knows very dam well why you have.

“Because Zemo, you are supposed to be a bad guy. Someone I should hate! I shouldn’t be doing thinking things of you”

He leans towards you, his lips grazing yours, “Such as?”

You pause for a moment, knowing you shouldn’t step over this line, but you just can’t help it.

“Fucking you”

“Oh? Such dirty thoughts. I thought you were above such things.” Zemo purrs

“Stop teasing me!” You whine. You try to lean forward to capture his lips but he leans back, putting his finger on them.

“Ah y/n, I want you to make a promise before we get anywhere”

“What”

“Please...don’t ignore me”

You look into his eyes and for once it was like the mask he always wore, of a self-absorbed man slipped away. You were staring into the eyes of a desperately lonely man.

“I promise, but Sam and Bucky can’t know”

Zemo grins, his teeth flashing. “I won’t tell if you don’t”

His lips crash onto yours, hungrily pressing against them. You open your mouth as his tongue explores yours. His hands wander up and down your body, pressing hard against your skin. He roughly grabs your arms and pushes you over to the sink. He picks you up and places you onto it. His lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw and neck.

His fingers venture downwards as well, slipping past the hem of your trousers. He moves them down past your underwear and slips into your private parts. You gasp as his fingers graze over your clit. The feeling sending shivers through you. You can feel Zemo smirking against your skin as he leaves a hickey against your collarbone. You grasp his hair, tugging on it, making him moan into your skin.

He removes his hands from you and grasps a hold of your trousers, pulling them off. He quickly pulls down your underwear while you remove your shirt. You attempt to grasp his bathrobe, but he ducks down.

He slowly parts your thighs, trailing kisses along them as he moves closer to your core. Your legs felt like jelly, as you expected him. He chuckles looking up to you, “So needy for me” he jested before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

You chuck your head back, moaning in pleasure as warmth floods your core. Your hands grasp his hair, holding him tightly as he continues to lick and suck at your clit.

“Be careful Y/n, these rooms are not soundproof” he says, releasing his lips from you but you are beyond the point of caring. You wrap your thighs around his head, pushing back to you.

His fingers touch your core, finding it soaked where they easily slip inside. You moan at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out. He pumps them in and out of you at a rapid rate while his tongue twisted on your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

“Zemo” you gasp as you felt your limit coming. “Zemo I’m going to-” you break off, unable to finish the sentence as you finally release as you see stars.

After a few moments, you are brought back to reality as you can feel Zemo run his tongue up your core drinking you in. He pulls back from you and stands up. His eyes trailing up and down your body as you lie there recovering from your pleasure. “So beautiful” he whispers.

You reach forward, grabbing a hold of his bathrobe and tugging it down his body till he wasn’t covered anymore. He swiftly moves over to a draw, pulling out a condom wrapper. Tearing it open with his mouth, he pulls the condom out and slips it onto himself.

His hands reach out to you, wrapping them around your body, pulling him closer to you. He rests his head on your shoulder as he pushes into you. You moan loudly in his ear as you feel him enter and cling to him, dragging your nails up and down his back. He grunts as he thrusts into you. Moaning as you squeeze your legs tighter for him. He trails kisses on your shoulder, gently biting a part of your skin.

“Y/N” he breathes, pulling back from your shoulder and claiming your lips again.

He pulls back from your lips and smirks at you teasingly, “Are you going to call me daddy again?”

You flush bright red remembering that night, “Damn you” you rasp out

He chuckles, leaning back towards your ear, “I don’t mind if you do”

At that moment he hits a certain spot within you, making you cry out. “There Daddy, please” you gasp and he complies, attempting to hit the spot again within you. His hands sneak back down and rub your clit, making jolts of pleasure run through you.

You feel yourself coming to another release, making you tangle your hands in his hair. You let it all out, seeing stars. After a few more thrusts, Zemo slows down and lets out a moan.

You two stay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other. Eventually, Zemo pulls back, pulling his condom off. He brushes the hair away from your face and gently places a kiss on your lips.

“You were great darling”

Tag list: @ineffablebean

Tagging who asked and showed interest in a sequel: @breakfastatlenas @prestigious-tea

#zemo #sugar daddy zemo #zemo imagine #i love zemo #zemo x y/n #tfatws #daniel brühl #mcu #marvel #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo smut #yes this is about zemo #falcon and the winter solider spoilers

[eskelbigbang]

Eskel Big Bang 2021 Masterpost

Here are all the fics and art made this year for the Eskel Big Bang. Congratulations on the hard work, everyone!

AO3 collection || #ebb works tag || #ebb art tag || #ebb fic tag

Below the cut is a full list of all EBB works:

Uprooted (T, No Pairing, 12k) by @rachofspades, art by @drachedraws

When a nondescript notice begging for a witcher's aid catches Eskel's attention on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he finds himself drawn in by his own curiosity despite his initial reservations. Once he arrives, it quickly becomes apparent that there's something more sinister going on than typical monster attacks, and he's determined to figure out what it is. Fic || Art (1) (2)

These Clay Hands (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.7k) by @aalizazareth, art by @hobbart-art

Eskel is a shy pottery instructor who meets Jaskier during one of his lessons. The two hit it off. Fic || Art

The Empty Safe Job (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 18k) by @iboughtaplant, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

A team of thieves with complicated pasts take down the rich and powerful to help those that get left out from justice. Their latest job should be simple, but an unexpected adversary has Eskel confronting his past. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Fic || Art

the broken vines are an open door (M, Eskel & Geralt & Yennefer, 5.2k) by @trissmarrygoals, art by @flyingyarn

Traveling through Aedirn with his newly acquired child surprise, Eskel stumbles upon a dead body - and with it, a mystery. Fic || Art

With you I'll never be alone (T, Eskel/Geralt, 5.8k) by @dat-carovieh, art by @mondfuchs

From their first meeting, through their whole long life Geralt and Eskel have always been there to comfort each other when one of them got hurt. --- Or five times Geralt and Eskel comfort each other through some kind of hurt and one time they're just comfortable. Fic || Art

Eskel Has A Good Day (G, Eskel & Wolf Witchers, 9.3k) by @gods-no-longer-tread-here, art by @phoenixandjacob

The Wolves (and bard) of Kaer Morhen go on a vacation to the coast, and have a good day. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Tu Me Manques. (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 8k) by @etcorsolus, art by @cvbeebop

In which, Eskel meets a bard who calms him. Body, mind, and soul. Story title is how the French say 'I miss you.' The more literal translation is 'You are missing from me.' Fic || Art

Little Red (M, Eskel/Lambert, 6.1k) by @miahclone, art by @llwynbleidd

Eskel helps Lambert while he's recovering from a serious injury. To distract him from the pain, Eskel tells stories of past hunts. Fic || Art

Constellations (M, Eskel/Geralt, 7.2k) by @dredshirtroberts, art by @dat-carovieh

Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Trial By Fire (Eskel and Aza's Wild Ride) (E, Eskel/OFC, 11k) by @janzoo, art by @liaonyxrayne

When Eskel rescues his succubus acquaintance from witch hunters, their reunion becomes something more as they're drawn into the hunters' plot. What can they do against a twisted idealist and the danger he presents to witchers and non-humans? Fic || Art

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 29k) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites, art by @wolfgeralt

When Eskel is hired to kill an incubus who ruined a noble wedding, he finds that his target is far from a bloodthirsty beast, a too-pretty court bard. Eskel spares Jaskier and they go their separate ways, with Eskel expecting never to see the incubus again. But Jaskier has other ideas. Fic || Art

I Could Eat the World Raw (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 7k) by @buttercupsanddandelions, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

“This is Eskel.” He pushes him slightly forward, “And he just had his conduit moment.” After becoming a mage, Eskel finds that he's been soul-bound to a little lordling. Fic || Art

Something we bury (M, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @heartoferebor, art by @craftgamerzz

“Where’s Eskel?” Ciri asks Geralt, frowning a little. “He went out to do more hunting and gather some potion ingredients. Should be back any moment,” Geralt reassures her. “Ah. Good.” She hesitates a little before deciding to forge right ahead with her next question. She’s asked everyone else in the keep, of course she’ll have to ask Geralt, too. “About his scars…” * Ciri wants to know where Eskel's scars came from, so she decides to ask everyone at the keep about them. Except, they all seem to have different stories... Fic || Art

Lord What Fools These Witchers Be (T, Aiden/Eskel, 21k) by @jayofolympus and @frenchkey, art by aviixrc

When Lambert brings Aiden to winter with him in Kaer Morhen, Eskel is catapulted straight into his own personal hell. It would be easier if he didn’t like the Cat. Instead, he finds himself falling head over heels for his brother’s boyfriend and trying to hide it from a pack of nosy Witchers. If only Aiden would stop flirting with him... Fic || Art (1) (2)

A Moment of Comfort (M, Eskel/OC) by @merpancake

An attack at a brothel begins with blood and carnage, but Eskel finds an unexpected peace in the arms of Cenna. As their paths continue to cross, Eskel carries that same peace within him on his journey through monsters and men. Art

Toussaint's Finest (M, Eskel/Geralt, 9.1k) by @kate-river, art by @justhereforeskel

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever. Fic || Art

Beneath the Shadow and the Soul (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 32k) by @vix-spes, art by @buffskierights

Eskel had the strange feeling that everything was going to change when he passed through Dol Blathanna one year on his way back to Kaer Morhen for winter. He had been passing through a town and, instead of running away from him, someone had exclaimed “You’re a Witcher,” and proceeded to sing at him. He just hadn't realised how much of an impact it would have on him. Fic || Art

Daughter of Fire (T, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 4.9k) by @kittynannygaming, art by @zmezagain

Witchers are sterile, that's a fact. No female human can bear their child. Well, the keyword here is 'human' and a succubus is very not human. And Eskel now has a sweet 7 years old daughter. Fic || Art

Break It Recklessly (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 22k) by @anonymousblueberry, art by @nol-nol

From teenage tearaways to successful adults, Geralt and Eskel have always been inseparable. To the extent that when Geralt accepts a wedding invite with Eskel as his plus one, there’s the assumption that they have finally sorted their shit out and got together, forcing them to keep up the facade or cause chaos for the happy couple. What follows is a crash course in emotions, dating, and working out that love can burn long and slow for a very long time. Fic || Art

The Question (M, Eskel/Istredd, 40k) by @eskelchopchop, art by @stars-in-my-damn-eyes

Eskel's in Ohio when Yennefer calls. He’s reluctant to pick up; he’s still not over Geralt, and he's got zero desire to chat with Geralt's new lover. Turns out Yen isn’t his lover anymore, and this isn’t about Geralt. It’s about witcher’s work. Yennefer owns Portal, one of New York City's most popular gay clubs. A Post-Conjunction Entity (PCE) is hunting her clientele, leaving a string of withered corpses in its wake. The police are doing jackshit. Will Eskel come back to a city full of bad memories and take a job off the books to stop it? He'll sure as hell try. Along the way, he’ll cross paths with Istredd, a man with sorcerer’s eyes and a painful past of his own. If Eskel doesn't work fast enough, they both might become the PCE's next victims. Fic || Art

Is It Cold In The Water? (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 12k) by @jennyloggins, art by @jerry-of-rivia

His horse is tied to a branch a few trees out, and that’s where Eskel heads to grab his water skein, taking a deep drink and soothe his dry throat. Patting his horse’s backside affectionately on his way past her, Eskel feigns a stern voice to say, “Zuzanna, keep watch for me.” Her tail twitches as if to swat him away. Fic || Art

Everything I Want (I Can Find in You) by @eyesofshinigami, art by @phoenixandjacob

Eskel didn't think he'd ever see Jaskier again, sure the Cat witcher was only looking for a night of fun. But then he keeps showing up, taking Eskel to bed and leaving him little presents. It takes Eskel a bit, but eventually he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier means it when he says he wants to keep him. Or Eskel doesn't think he deserves nice things and Jaskier is determined to show him otherwise. Fic || Art

One Stop Shop; Tattoo's Piercings, And Love (M, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert, 7.4k) by @jesheckah, art by @moondrunkart

When Eskel fumbles an invitation at a party to come into his tattoo shop, Jaskier and he move towards an explosive love. How many tattoo sessions does it take for the heart to know what it wants? Fic || Art

Entanglement (and other words for a mess) (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 31k) by @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, art by @merpancake

Eskel has a hundred marks on his body, but a soulmark isn't one of them. Fic || Art

Beneath Each Other's Bones (E, Eskel/Geralt, 7.6k) by @pressedinthepages, art by @drachedraws

Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold. Fic || Art (1) (2)

#9fe2bf on the Shore (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.5k) by @buffskierights, art by @phoenixandjacob

The sea roars with a vengeance, something angering the waves even as the stars shine brightly overhead in the clear night sky. If Eskel were a poet he’d say it almost sounded like a wail of mourning, the way the whitewater crashes upon the night black sand and the gathering foam, the sea frothing furiously. But Eskel’s always hated his poetry lessons so being a poet is firmly off the table. Fic || Art

lion in the wolf's den (T, Coen/Eskel, 5k) by @patchwork-doublet, art by @justhereforeskel

eskel is nervous being around ciri, afraid things will go south like they did last time. Fic || Art

Sugar Baby Blues (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 24k) by adevinecomedy, art by @pastelrune

Jaskier’s mind slipped back to a night several months ago when he was all worked up but had nowhere to go and a mountain of school work to get through. How it was just so much easier to log onto a camming website and watch someone perform seemingly just for him. The gorgeous, confident man on the other side of the screen had been so accommodating, even though Jaskier had been shy and hadn’t typed much into the chat. Modern au where Eskel is a Cam boy and runs into a bit of a financial bind. Enter Jaskier who just might be the answer to all his woes. Fic || Art

Winter Comfort (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 10k) by @myidlehand, art by @liaonyxrayne

Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen to spend some time with Eskel, after briefly meeting him in the fall. And while both of them seem delighted to see each other again, Eskel starts to shy away from Jaskier's comments and flirting. It doesn't take a genius to see Eskel is having body image issue. Jaskier aims to help him through it. Fic || Art

The Subtle Knife (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 26k) by @major-trouble, art by @cylin-aka-ankamo

There's an assassin haunting the Continent. No one knows their name, everyone - that is, everyone in the know - calls them The Specter. If you want a rival out of the way, a political opponent disposed of, or a strategic target taken out, contacting The Specter gets the job done. For a price, of course. There's an art to subtlety, after all, and it wouldn't do to risk the attention of law enforcement. So there's no obvious cause, no knife to the back, and the deaths aren't usually remarked upon. The Kaer Morhen Agency, however, has noticed. One of their agents has been hired to protect potential victims, people scared that they've been targeted. And they have reason to worry. When Eskel's first assignment winds up dead of no discernible cause, it starts him on a search for the elusive Specter, hoping against hope to track down the assassin before they're hired again. Setting a trap for a ghost is something Witchers are used to. Setting one for a trained killer may prove beyond them. Fic || Art

No Funny Business (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 11k) by goldendaydreams, art by @nanero11

Eskel had long given up on finding his soulmate, his soulmark nothing but scar tissue from a house fire he’d survived as a child. Knowing that most people wait for their perfect someone, their destiny, didn’t stop him from falling in love with Jaskier, the nurse he met after a hunt gone wrong. Fic || Art

Stronger Than My Storm (E, Eskel/Geralt) by @rawrkinjd, art by @nol-nol

Eskel and Geralt were friends from the very beginning. They added the benefits later. It was another way to offer comfort and companionship when the rest of the world closed in around them, and Eskel was content with it for years. Until he wakes up one day and realises it’s become something more. He touches Geralt’s silver hair, wreathed in a halo of yellow sunlight, and allows himself to feel the cracks spreading through his heart. Witchers can’t love each other. It would only lead to suffering. Eskel realises he must weather the storm inside or let Geralt go forever. Fic || Art

Full of Life (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 6.3k) by @sternenstaub28, art by @llwynbleidd

When Eskel gets hired to solve the case of people disappearing in town, she didn’t know she’d find a friend and maybe even something more. or Beauty and strength don't necessarily make your life easier, a companion and love however do. Fic || Art

choices are the hinges of destiny (T, Eskel/Geralt, 7.5k) by @lutes-and-dandelions, art by @cassandrasartworld

After rescuing a fae from the clutches of death, they repay Eskel by helping him make a choice. -oOo- A story about what would have happened if Eskel had claimed his child of surprise. Fic || Art

Eskel Vs The Continent (And His Feelings) (M, No Pairing, 47k) by @chibitabathasloves, art by @zmezagain

Eskel decides he needs to leave Kaer Morhen after the fight with the Hunt. Where will it take him? And will he be able to face his feelings he desperately tries to ignore. Fic || Art

lookin' to the sky to save me (T, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @torynickles, art by @trissmarrygoals

Geralt slides his hand from Eskel’s shoulder to his back. And then. Then he keeps moving it, outwards, away from Eskel’s torso, where there should be nothing but air, but— “What the fuck?” he chokes, because he can still feel Geralt’s hand, sensation where there should be none. He shakes his head wildly, twisting his arm to reach for his own back. His fingers connect to something, but—it’s not his body, it can’t be his body, even though he can feel himself touching it. Because he’s made up of skin and flesh, bone and muscle, and this thing has all of those, but— It’s covered in sticky, damp feathers. Fic || Art

A Fine Night at the Faire (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 12k) by Elensule, art by @liaonyxrayne

Eskel has been hurt by the world and hides for refuge in his little goat farm. He's found no reason to look for love, or much of anything else. But encouragement from his brother sends him to an unfamiliar locale; the renfaire! Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone was just what he needed. Fic || Art

#eskel big bang #eskel #witcher eskel #the witcher #the witcher eskel #the witcher 3 #tw3 #jaskel #geraskel #geskel #eskel x geralt #geralt x eskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #ebb works #eskel fanfic #eskel fanart #eskel/geralt/jaskier

[mrsmctominay]

Can you make a nsfw abc thing w phil foden please thank youu

NSFW Alphabet- Phil Foden

A = Aftercare

He would rather just focus on his own aftercare and let you do your own thing. He obviously asks if you're okay and things like that but he likes to let you do it so he doesn't mess up. B = Body part

Phil is 10000% an ass guy. He's always telling you how sexy your ass is and how he loves the way it bounces off of him during doggy style.

C = Cum He usually paints your stomach with his cum, he loves the way you look covered in it and the way you scoop it up into your mouth.

D = Dirty Secret He wants to try fucking your face. You on your knees in front of him while he grabs your head and just thrusts himself into your mouth, watching you get covered in a mixture of spit and cum. Of course, he would never tell you but this is what he thinks about when he's alone.

E = Experience Phil is very experienced in the bedroom. He knows exactly what he wants and exactly what to do. He's basically a master at it.

F = Favourite Position Reverse cowgirl is his go to, or doggy style, or anything where he can see your ass jiggle. During reverse cowgirl, he loves watching the way your pussy grips around his cock, or the way your hips move when you ride him. During doggy, he loves grabbing your hips and slamming himself into you.

G = Goofy He's such a goofball during sex. Always trying to make you giggle, either by saying 'mm, mm, mm' when he's eating you out or just by being an idiot.

H = Hair Phil is clean. He says it makes him look bigger and that it's probably better for you when you go down there.

I= Intimacy He can be surprisingly gentle sometimes, kissing you softly and handling your body with care. Brushing his hands over your curves and telling you how gorgeous you are.

J = Jack Off He has no problem with masturbating. I mean, a release is a release, right? I mean OBVIOUSLY he'd rather it be your hand than his but you gotta do what you gotta do.

K = Kink He really enjoys praising you. Calling you his good girl or telling you that you're doing an amazing job at making him feel good. Another one of his kinks is wanting to do it in public. He's always dragging you into public bathrooms or behind a tree.

L = Location We've already established that Phil has a thing for fucking you in public, but his true favourite place to do it would be in a big fancy hotel. A place where he doesn't need to worry about if he gets his cum on the bedsheets or not because he's not the one washing them.

M = Motivation

Something about your laugh really turns him on. The way you giggle and throw you head back just gives him visions of him in between your legs with you moaning his name.

N = NO He doesn't like the idea of tying you up. He likes it when you reach your hand down to rub your clit when he fucks you and the thought of taking that away just isn't nice to him.

O = Oral Although he enjoys eating you out and is fairly good at it, he's selfish when it comes to oral. He could get head every hour of the day if he had it his way. You always complain that you've got bruises on your knees from doing it so much but he doesn't seem to care.

P = Pace He kind of has an in between pace. He goes fast and hard enough for your body to jerk in pleasure but he doesn't go as fast as he could. He just goes quick enough for you to feel how much he would like to ruin you.

Q = Quickie He loves a good quickie. As long as his own release is involved he's not bothered about how long the sex lasts.

R = Risk He's alright with experimenting to a certain extent. He's always up for spicing it up but certain thinks its a straight up no.

S = Stamina It just depends how long he has gone without sex. If he's been away with the team for a while then he will finish pretty quickly but if you've been having regular sex then he can last a little bit.

T = Toy He bought you a pair of vibrating panties for you to wear when the two of you went out on a date or if you just went out for the day. He liked the fact he could control your orgasm and the speed of the vibration.

U = Unfair He can be a tease at times but most of the time he'd rather just get right to it with no time wasted. But when he does feel in the mood to tease you, he doesn't fuck about with it.

V = Volume He's fairly vocal in the bedroom, he talks to you more than he moans. Obviously he can't help but moan at times but he would rather give you the dirtiest of dirty talk.

W = Wild Card He absolutely hates seeing other guys flirt with you, you'd always go along with it just to piss him off but he really couldn't contain himself. A lot of the time he'd get a screaming erection from it, imagining himself punishing you for flirting with other guys.

X = X-Ray He's got more girth than length, it does some work when it's stretching your walls out but you don't mind. Not to mention, his length is still more than enough to pleasure you.

Y = Yearning That boy is basically walking sex. He's always horny and down to fuck whenever or wherever and he finds it very hard to control himself.

Z = ZZZ He tries to fall asleep quickly but most of the time he's kept awake by his thoughts. He thinks about the sex you've just had and what it would be like if you just did it all over again.

#philfodenblurb #philfodensmut #philfodenimagine #phil foden #foden smut #fodenblurb #foden imagine #foden #footballerblurb #footballerimagine #premierleagueblurb #premierleaguesmut #premier league imagine #premier league

[mochi-marie]

I hope this isn’t too much but can you do some bnha characters comforting the reader? Maybe she has low self esteem and thinks down of herself? Maybe with hawks, Shigaraki, Bakugou and Todoroki? Sorry it’s just I’m not in the best mood > <

˗ˏˋ 𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 / 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒 / 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 + 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 ˎˊ˗

author’s note : it's not too much at all, love!! i love writing comfort, this is more than okay! and no need to apologize, everyone gets upset sometimes <3 just remember that you're loved, and take care of your mental health — that goes for everyone reading this! also, i ended up writing two small blurbs for bakugou and todoroki, so i hope they're okay? <3

perspective : gender neutral

characters : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shoto, keigo takami, shigaraki tomura

warning : angst to comfort, themes of self-hate / self-esteem issues

⊰ 𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗚𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗜 ⊱

♡ … bakugou may not seem like it, but he is very observant. he tends to notice slight changes in routines, or in attitudes. this often times includes noticing changes of mentality.

♡ … the moment that he realizes you're upset, specifically upset with yourself, he understands. he's been through similar feelings of inferiority, and a part of him aches at the idea of you feeling the way he did.

♡ … over time, katsuki tries to reach out to you in subtle ways. making you food more often, offering small glances and holding your gaze with his own with a hidden questioning look while he wished he could say : "hey, i'm here for you"

♡ … but subtlety often doesn't work. he realizes it when your issues seem to finally bubble up and you're nowhere in sight...

bakugou found himself staring into dark wood, eyes downcast at the slit under the door with low, yellow light illuminating from the crack. Taking a deep breath, going over the words in his head for what felt like the one-hundredth time, his hand lifted up to meet the door — your door — and his knuckles bounced, the rapping jolting him out of the haze he had been trapped under. bakugou's mouth felt dry, mind blanking and words dying on his lips when he heard a soft voice call out; "who is it?"

"open the door." strong, stable, calm. katsuki's eyes trailed the length of the illuminated slit, watching for any movement that would be caught by shifting shadows. "wh-" "just let me in, (name)." his voice was quick and sharp to respond, a stark contrast to the worry swimming in his scarlet red eyes. surprisingly, the click and shift of a lock was heard, and the door cracked open, revealing you. you could only imagine how disheveled you appeared — large, oversized lounge clothes draping over your figure, hair messy, and no doubt bags under your eyes, deprivation of mental rest clearly written across your face. "b-bakugou, why're you-"

arms wrapped around your shoulder tightly, surprise making you stumble back as your own instinctively wrapped around bakugou's mid-section. his face was pushed against your head, his spikey blonde hair tickling your face as the realization dawned. bakugou knew, he was there. he knew the deepest, darkest depths of his own mind that was tainted with ideas of inferiority, of guilt and regret, and of self-hate. he knew more than anyone how you felt in that moment, and he silently enveloped you in the comfort of attention and understanding.

"how'd you know?" you murmured softly, trying your best to swallow back the hot sting behind your eyes.

"it's my job to know." was his only response.

⊰ 𝗧𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗜 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗢 ⊱

♡ … todoroki can be a bit oblivious with childish things such as jokes, or with some types of emotions, but he understands self-esteem and the issues surrounding the concept.

♡ … watching your facial expressions, he immediately takes notice of the way you avoid mirrors, or in the way you seem to dodge compliments and brush off insults with a hidden frown and hurt bleeding from your expressive eyes.

♡ … todoroki would not waste any time, and would be quick to come and confront you about what's bothering you.

♡ … he may not fully understand the extent of your issues, but he will not stand aside and watch a loop of self-destruction start...

todoroki watches the smile on your lips fade to a thin line as others laughed around you, watching carefully as your gaze wandered to your hands that rested in your lap, fiddling nervously with your fingers. his stomach twisted into knots as he observed you silently, blank look on his face ever-present as he watched you get left behind once again. he watched the corner of your lips twitch, observed as the sigh flew harshly from your lips, and as your head dropped to stare into your lap.

furiously blinking, doing your best to hide your distraught face from others, a hand pressed itself to your upper back. the positioning was awkward, yet safe; hand curving to the upset hunch of your back. the hand was warm, and as you lifted your head, meeting his dual-colored eyes that matched his white and red split hair. "(name)?" his voice was calm and soft, eyebrows creasing in furrowed worry as his hand traveled to yours that had continued fiddling, taking your fingers into his palm. his thumb absentmindedly rubbed over your knuckles softly, having paused.

"are you okay?" sincerity dripped from his honeyed voice, genuine worry for a close one obvious. the tears that slipped from your eyes didn't startle him; todoroki calmly waited, until your head dropped to lean against his shoulder, feeling terrible for letting him see you in such a weak moment.

"it's okay, (name). speak when you're ready. i'm here for you." was his soft response to your silence, his heart pounding in his chest.

no one dared to disturb you two, as he listened to you let your emotions out.

⊰ 𝗞𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗢 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗠𝗜 ⊱

♡ … climbing in through your apartment window to be greeted with a surprised gasp was confusing.

♡ … when his head snapped up to see tear streaks on your cheeks with rosy eyes and a red nose, his heart climbed into his throat.

♡ … keigo's normal cockiness drained from his person, replaced with a side of him that doesn't normally show all too often -- seriousness and care overtakes his features, being emotionally intelligent.

♡ … he drops anything that he may have been carrying in favor of scooping you up into his arms after pulling off some of his pro-hero equipment ( visor, gloves, etc ).

♡ … keigo looks down to you, cradled in his arms with tears brimming that nearly draw water to his own eyes.

♡ … "what happened?" he asks softly, in a low voice as to avoid any more tears that would slip if he spoke any louder. his voice was barely above a whisper.

♡ … if you choose to say what's been bothering you, he'll listen closely, still holding you close to his chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, sitting down on a sofa or a bed.

♡ … if you choose to stay silent, not yet ready or not quite in the right mind to convert bitter thoughts into coherent words that would make sense, he'll simply hold you to his figure until you're ready to talk!

♡ … will be a bit clingy, if it doesn't annoy you too much! he'll grumble a bit if you try to push away, and will sit outside the bathroom door if you needed to use it.

♡ … for the rest of the night he's never too far away, sticking near you as much as possible to offer any and all comfort that you need, only getting up to follow you to the bathroom or to grab you any snacks or drinks you may want, or blankets and pillows.

⊰ 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗞𝗜 𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 ⊱

♡ … shigaraki is known to not care for others and their qualms, acting childish and not being the best in understanding certain emotions or knowing how to deal with them within himself or others.

♡ … but having a relationship with you ( in some way or another ), he may have learned a bit. that doesn't mean he won't hesitate greatly though, once met with your tearful expression and curled up figure.

♡ … all you see is his frozen, ridged form, standing as still as a statue. yet his heart is pounding wildly in his chest, breath caught in his throat and skin starting to irritatingly itch.

♡ … his hand crawls up to his neck to absent-mindedly scratch, observing the way you opted to turn from his view. yet it was hard to miss the way you tried your best to stop the small bobbing of your shoulders that ached in the suppression of your cries.

♡ … an awkward, uncomfortable presence was sat next to you after a few minutes. no touching, just company. his company, unsure of what was appropriate, not knowing what to do, or what you would want from him.

♡ … if you don't tell him want you want, or what you need, the most he might do is place a tentative hand on your shoulder to test the waters, unsure of what he was doing, fingers twitching in uncomfortable tenseness.

♡ … he wants to help, he knows that he should help, but he doesn't know how to interact with people who are suffering with these emotions.

♡ … you'll have to be to one to move; to crawl into his embrace and manually wrap his arms around your frame, to be the one to initiate so that he can finally loosely wrap his arms around you — still hesitant and rigid, but wanting to help you in any way you would need — and let you bury your head into the crook of his neck.

♡ … while he may not be sure about physical or emotional connection, he understands that you need him, and that you need time to be able to explain the self-disparaging thoughts that run wild in your head.

♡ … will let you sit and cling to him for the rest of the day, and doesn't dare move unless you yourself moves first, not wanting to risk worsening any thoughts -- the absolute opposite of what he would wish.

© — mochi-marie.tumblr 2021 ⊱ please do not plagerize, repost, reproduce, edit / alter, or claim any works as your own.

#👒 — posts #bnha #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha bakugou #bnha shigaraki #bnha hawks #bnha angst #bnha fluff #bnha comfort #bakugou katuski x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha scenarios

[rrasado]

Yo! If that's okay could i request the brothers (or some of the of your choice) reacting to a teen mc who already has a pact with a demon long before coming to the Devildom and this demon is pretty much their (very protective) guardian/caretaker? Like, the demon is really sweet and gentle with MC and babies them constantly but they're wary of the brothers (Nothing romantic, just platonic hcs!) Feel free to ignore if i'm bothering you!

Congrats on the 400 followers!!💞

Who’s The Guardian?

On another episode of “why didn’t I see this in my inbox before-“ but this is such a cute request.

I...haven’t played OMSWD in half a year ;-;. I never got past lesson 40 so, sorry in advanced for the OOC-

When you already have a pact

Lucifer

...is caught off guard, big time.

He probably skimmed through your files and records but not once did the thought of a seemingly innocent teenager already having a pact with a demon prior the exchange program crossed his mind.

That’s coming from someone who overthinks a lot.

As the so called right hand man of the young lord himself, he’ll want to conduct a thorough investigation on whoever this demon is. He can’t risk sullying the honor of Diavolo because of some minor slip up.

Under the guise of a friendly get together he asks MC to invite their demon pact mate over for a nice afternoon tea. Harmless correct? Well that -less becomes -ful when the demon immediate smothers their favorite human with such rare affections he didn’t knew demons were capable of.

He’ll attempt to be discreet about his intentions but, it seems the demon is more vocal about their displeasure of finding out that their dear human is living with seven of the most powerful demons in hell. So lucifer would blatantly put on a facade to keep the dignity of the council and the prince at peace. But if it were up to him...

“We all care for the human’s well being yes? A little cooperation is to be called for”

Mammon

...Feels betrayed. And disappointed

He...wasn’t MC’s first- oh god the others are laughing at him as we speak aren’t they.

Would probably try to not so discreetly compare himself to the demon, arms crossed™️

Is that why MC was so fast in making a pact with him? Like no fear whatsoever because they’ve already done this before? Now he feels dumber than before

It all ultimately ends with..the demon and mammon trying to out do each other when it comes to spoiling Mc whether material wise or affection, of course mammon is at a disadvantage given how much he denies his concern for not being Mc’s first.

But in the end, if anything bad no matter how small happens to the two demon’s beloved human, they’d probably set aside their differences and hunt down the source. It’s a whole other story if the source was mammon-

“Oi the human also has a pact with me Ya got that!”

Leviathan

...is both amazed and disdained.

On one hand- HOLY SHI- YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN MOST SUMMONERS AND YOU ALREADY HAVE A PACT? THAT’S SO SHOUNEN-

And on the other hand- wow...you’re such a normie for being able to pull in other races, what in the name of damned friendship is this-

But that disdain turns to envy, whether envying you or the demon sometimes it’s interchangeable- because he wished he was also that cared for. Being able to be brought gifts or being protective over- it’s the otome dream he’s secretly wanted.

But once he realizes that the demon just genuinely cares for MC, for whatever reason- he seems to understand along the way, maybe he to wishes to protect one of the few people that willingly put up with him with a wild smile. Teen mutuality huh.

He might even invite their demon pact mate over for a game or two- heck if things go well they three might even become a triumvirate. Overall he’ll learn to get along with them but...it’ll take a good while djdndnbd.

“H-hey...ya sure you wanna hang out with someone as yucky as me? Ah- wait I have games for three here somewhere.”

Satan

...Is highly intrigued suffice it to say.

The guy was highly enthralled when you managed to even make a pact with him through hard work and it seems there was a much farther history as to why.

Unlike the first born however, he’d be actually successful in hiding his true intentions when he decided to investigate whoever demon managed to wind up with the young human in the first place.

Those detective novels did him good Huh-

On a more serious note. He’d actually be encouraging to a certain extent until the demon directs their threats to him. Like how dare this lowly bastard make a point to the Avatar sin of Wrath- oh it was for MC’s sake...hard pass-

At one point he’s probably the closest to this demon in terms of peace next to Beelzebub since he’s the most serene of the brothers. Overall neutral to them unless the demon gives him a reason to.

“It’s nice to see the human having someone to lean on to...I wonder what would happen if that support were to suddenly collapse”

Asmodeus

...is sappy to the brim

Look at the lovely human already catching demons with finesse! Proud wine aunt moment™️. And the fact that it was prior to the program? Damn the kid has more potential than he thought.

At first the demon themself is gonna- Ehe carry MC away everytime asmo ties coming in but. With a little nudge and convincing they’d probably stay to listen to Asmo.

Trust me when I say these three will go shopping every weekend once everyone is comfortable with each other. And for what it’s worth they might even get matching outfits.

Asmo would probably try and nitpick how MC even managed to wind up in a pact with a demon without knowledge of the Devildom in the first place but at the same time he thinks it adds to the younger’s charm

These three end up being the child the mom and wine aunt dynamic and y’all can’t convince me otherwise.

“Ehh~? Oh don’t look so weary it’s bad for your face darling~”

Beelzebub

...For some reason happy.

Is this why MC managed to make a pact with his brothers so easily in so little time? Is this why the teen never seems to be bothered by any of his brothers’ threats? Overall he’s happy that you have experience.

He remembers something oddly like this...but in his case he didn’t had experience prior the fall wow way to go at angsting this am I right-

Because unlike him, a being millennia old was so confused of what’s in store for hell after the fall but he had no choice but to grit his teeth and bare the fear.

And someone so young managed to get a taste of a fraction of that experience but here was MC...laughing without a care whilst this other demon places a protective arm in front of them as they interrogate beel- oh wait they were talking to him-

Food as peace offering? You bet, thankfully they did settle with food and unlike first impressions- the demon actually is the most sensible to beel seeing as he was one of the few who...didn’t actively attempt to kill their human- in fact, the demon is probably the one to inform Beel of what demon food the young teen can actually eat and what they prefer.

“I see...ah, would you maybe wanna join us? Food always tastes better when shared”

Belphegor

...could care less until they talk about the whole time universe killing thing-

Ohhh boy- belphie run I’m telling you run- no beel won’t defend you on this one in fact I think I see mammon running with the demon but belphie run boy run-

In all seriousness him and the demon will take the longest to get into terms. Heck not even Mc’s convincing has effect, because the demon really really doesn’t like the avatar of sloth for good reason.

Depending on how the demon even winded up with MC. Belphie would also not like the demon.

That...is until something actually bad happens to MC-

The demon might blindly pin it on belphie but the thing is- he’s also panicking because if he and his brothers were there and the demon was there- wHO TF IS WITH THE TEENAGER-

He...didnt want to have what he did to MC happen again. Let him be the last one to harm the spunky human. I even considered him and the demon to never actually get along no matter how long of a time but...again it all depends on the Hows and Whys.

“I...Care for them as much as you do. Just- Tsk... I don’t need you to believe me.”

#if there are any typos Gomen ;-; #now I want to write another angst fic jdjsjsjs #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me headcanons #om headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #rras’ inbox #rras writes #writings from the eclipse