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illum1z · 2 days ago

Text

snow cream

Roommate!Yunho x F!Reader

summary: Six months of living under the same roof, and you barely knew the guy. You both always came and went, to and from your jobs and school, only ever interacting in the kitchen or the living room late at night when you wanted a glass of water or he wanted to watch TV. But when winter rolls around and the snowstorms get heavy, maybe somehow you could warm up to each other…

tags: snowed in, forced proximity(?), attempt at humor, fluff, mutual pining, hand kink (duh), soft mdom, petnames (baby, angel face, pretty girl, slut etc.), Yu LOVES touching you, handjob, nipple sucking, fingering, tension, unprotected sex (BOOOOO), lotus positon, he talks alot, multiple orgasms, aftercare, NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 7.2k

notes: sort of based around a nsfw audio I listened to a couple years ago LMAO.

tracklist: bad liar, poison, intro: singularity

“Reports are flowing in from the NWS about upcoming snowstorms, which are expected to reach record levels; the surrounding area is expecting up to 6 inches. Officials are closing roads and the district schools are shutting down until-”

“Just my luck, huh?” You switched off your phone and rested your head against your steering wheel with an exasperated sigh. You had seen the beginning of the snowfall that week, just light flakes here and there, but they weren't sticking.

But of course mother nature had to give a big fuck you and mess with your plans that weekend with 6 inches of snow. Roads were closing, and so were the stores, so you needed to be in and out before the snowstorm picked up.

You rubbed your temples before switching your car off, getting out, and walking into the grocery store with your original plan in mind.

You had planned to pick up some ingredients for some appetizers you were going to bring to one of your friends' birthdays, but you had frowned when they texted your group chat, saying the party had been cancelled because of snowfall.

That's what led you to the news, deflating your excitement. Instead of being here for groceries, you were here to stock up on supplies. And so was everybody else. The store was packed with people. Mothers are rushing and snatching boxes of cereal off the shelf. Dads are stocking up on batteries and jugs of water. The poor employees were at war with the panicking public. Quickly as you could, you grabbed a cart and picked up some essentials. Batteries. Toilet paper. Bottled water. Some nonperishables. While walking past the home section, you noticed a couple of displays where they were selling large fleece blankets.

You eyed them for a second, debating if you should get one.

Maybe two.

One for you, one for your roommate. Jeong Yunho.

You had met him on Craigslist whilst looking for roommate listings. You decided community college was best for your budget years ago, but you needed to find somewhere else to live. Soon. Living with your parents is not for the weak.

You spent hours on different websites, desperate to find somewhere close and affordable. Maybe also a roommate who has a low chance of murdering you in your sleep.

You stumbled across the listing one night, hope slowly dwindling at the awful market.

2 bedrooms. 2 baths. 600 per month. Cats are welcome. Email for more information.

Immediately, you jumped on it because there was no way you would be able to find anything cheaper than this, unfortunately. You emailed him all your information. About your job and schedule, and made sure to mention that you would like to bring your cat, Patches. About a week later, you had driven to the house to look around and discuss final plans and agreements. Along with you, you brought your cat so she could become accustomed to the new living space.

The house was cute and quaint, a little grey and white bungalow with a few bushes on either side of the steps that led up to the black door. A decent-sized front yard, neat and green, with a driveway with just enough space for two cars. Perfect.

When you met the person who posted the listing, you had pulled up to the house, parking your car behind another one already in the driveway. He was on the porch, in the process of carrying some bags inside the house.. When he saw you, he waved for you to follow him inside. He showed you to your room, talked about rent and policies. You both established some privacy rules, and he was petting your cat the entire time. He seemed to take a liking to her immediately. Yunho had you sign some things, and then that was it. Simple, fast, and easy. A few days later, you had moved your stuff in, and from then on, you and Yunho barely interacted.

He said that he’s usually at one of his friends' houses, at work or class, or in his room playing games. This was perfect for you; you enjoyed your privacy, and if you were being honest, you were nervous around Yunho.

He had this boyish charm to him that made your heart flutter; he was tall and spoke to you gently, as if he were too loud, he might scare you. He had dark brown hair that parted in the middle, with bangs that sometimes covered his eyes. And you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that your gaze always drifted to his hands whenever you saw him. Large and slender, the veins prominent like a roadmap.

He always made sure that you knew where he was going when he went somewhere with a text like “At friends,” or “Out drinking.”

Another thing you had noticed while living with him was that it was like he stole your cat from you. IF you couldn't find your cat anywhere, it was safe to assume she was in Yunho's room. She followed him around the apartment all the time, whenever he sat on the couch to watch TV, she was in his lap. Whenever he was in the kitchen cooking, she was perched on the counter watching intently.

One day, you came home and saw Yunho on the couch with her. Usually, she’d get up and greet you by rubbing her face against your legs. Instead, she stayed put, gave you a curt meow, and that was it.

You walked by the back of the couch and narrowed your eyes at her, mouthing the words “traitor” before retreating to your room.

You ran your hand over the navy blue fleece blanket that was folded next to a similar white one. Making up your mind, you dropped the blue blanket in your cart as well as the white one. After some more shopping, you checked out and began your drive home, the snow beginning to fall again.

Your mind wandered back to your roommate again. You're pretty sure he was at a friend's house right now, you just hoped he would make it home safe. Driving home through the snow was certainly a feat. Everyone on the road opted to go under the speed limit in hopes they wouldn't go sliding at a sharp turn. A blanket of white began to accumulate on the ground, and it was growing increasingly difficult to see through the snow swirling in the air.

After a grueling and stressful journey, you returned to the house safely. The yard was a pure, sparkling white, untouched like a fresh, clean blanket. You gathered your bags and stepped out of the car, trudging through the snow as it only continued to climb higher and higher. As you suspected, Yunho’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

You made it inside, the warmth of the heater immediately making you shed your jacket as you dropped the bags on the table. As soon as you did, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out to see a text from Yunho.

“Be home later.” Simple and quick. You thought for a moment whether you should text back. Your fingers began typing, and then you hit send.

“Be safe.” A second later, it buzzed again.

“Will do.”

You felt stupid for the way your heart clenched a little. You could count on three hands how many conversations you’ve had with him that lasted longer than a minute. Words are always fleeting between you two, always too busy for anything more than a good morning or an update on bills. But Yunho always responded to your texts with earnestness, replying fast and confidently. It was never anything deep, but whenever you asked what he wanted for dinner, he always responded with whatever it was he wanted, with a smiley face and a thank you.

He never really engaged in any more conversation than that, but for some reason, you could tell her cared more than he let on.

You put away all the things you bought, deciding to place the blanket you bought for Yunho on the couch so he’d see it when he got home. You cleaned up a little, because if you’re going to be snowed in, at least let the place be neat.

After some light cleaning, you had a shower and decided that for tonight’s dinner, you’d make some chili, so that way you would have leftovers for the upcoming days. Tonight was usually Yunho’s night for meals, but you were feeling froggy.

Connecting your speaker to your phone, you cleaned up your area and put on some music, getting ready to make dinner. You were in your zone, chopping tomatoes and browning the beef. The music flowed from your speaker, and the house was filled with a cozy feeling. You were an avid big light hater, so a few lamps and candles here and there set a soothing ambient lighting. The sun was setting, and the snow was picking up, the wind howling outside.

After another hour or so, dinner was done, and Yunho still wasn’t home. It was 8 pm. He’s usually out past 11, but because of the storm, you had assumed he’d be back earlier. You decided to shoot him a test, for your own mental fortitude. The snow had calmed, gentle snowfall dusting your windows.

“Are you on your way home? I made chili.” Send.

You waited a minute or two. No response. You rested your elbows on the kitchen island, waiting for his reply.

The three bouncing dots appeared at the bottom of your messages, and he was typing.

It stopped for a second, then started up again.

“Can you come outside?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at such a weird question. You thought he was with his friends. He was typing again.

“Down the street.”

“Stuck in the snow.”

“Please.”

You were so confused. Quickly, you slipped on your coat and your shoes by the door. You slipped your phone in your pocket and opened your front door. The cold hit your face like a mallet, and immediately your nose started to burn. But it was beautiful outside. Fresh snow everywhere. It was dark outside well into the night, but the snow was so white it was like it provided a little glow of its own. Snowflakes flurried from the sky, landing all over your clothes. You stepped into the front yard, and half of your calf sank completely beneath the surface of the fluff.

You, albeit with some trouble, waded through your front yard and stepped out onto the icy street nearly losing your footing and busting your ass. The neighborhood was silent, not a soul in sight, the end of the street being swallowed in black emptiness.

But on the other end of the street, a lone car pulled off to the curb, headlights on as the snow swirled around the warm beams of light in a dancing flurry.

Beside it was your roommate, waving at you, bundled in a coat and scarf, grey sweatpants, and a desperate look on his face.

You started to walk towards him, doing your best not to slip and fall. “What the hell is going on?” You exclaim as you walk towards him. His tires were buried in the snow, and his windshield wipers were swaying steadily, clearing the flakes off the glass.

When you were about 6 steps away from reaching him, you began to lose your footing, the ice seeming slicker than before.

“Careful-careful-careful!” Yunho reached his hands forward and took a step in an attempt to catch you, but it was too late.

“Shit!” your feet slipped from underneath you and after a couple slips and slides fighting to stay up, you ultimately fell directly on your ass, a sharp pain shooting up your tailbone.

You groaned, hand reaching back and rubbing your lower back. Immediately, the wet ice soaked your pants uncomfortably, and you already knew you’d wake up tomorrow with a nasty bruise.

Silence fell as you sat in defeat and mulled your pain, but Yunho was oddly quiet. You raised your eyes to look at him. He had one hand over his mouth. His eyebrows were raised in shock, and his eyes slowly narrowed as he took you in.

“Laugh. I dare you.” You glared at him, wincing at the sharp pain crawling up your tailbone.

“Jeong Yunho, you are a child.” You rolled your eyes as he busted out into a fit of laughter, one hand on his car while the other stayed on his mouth. You turned and got ready to get up so you could hit him.

“N-No wait stop!” he shouted between fits of giggles, his arms coming down and trying to pull you up by your arms, while simultaneously avoiding your violent hands.

“I’m sorry, let me just- hold on- stop trying to hit me (Name)! I'm trying to help you.”

“Well then, stop laughing at me!” His own feet were starting to lose friction on this ice as he felt his body sway as he grabbed you.

“If you don’t stop moving, you’re gonna take us both down!” Yunho tried to manhandle you back up, but unfortunately he lost it and tumbled down right next to you, accidentally yanking you onto your back as he landed on his ass.

“Goddamnit...” Yunho laid back in the snow, seemingly giving up on trying to get either one of you on your feet. You giggled behind your hand as you looked at him, his hair all messy and dusted with snowflakes.

He glanced at you and sighed. “Go ahead. It's only fair.” You took that opportunity to laugh in his face, him lightening up and joining you.

When you both calmed down, you looked behind him at his car. “So what happened, you just got lodged in the snow?”

“Wow, real astute (Name). Did I also mention that it’s snowing outside? How crazy is that?” You moved to smack his shoulder at his smart alecness, but he dodged.

“Stop trying to hit me, and help me move my car.” Bewildered, you watch as he stumbled and tried to stand up, feet slipping here and there as he finally stood upright. Like a baby penguin

“Help you push the car?” You snorted and tried to stand up yourself grunting. “Yeah, that's like not happening. Especially on this ice. You’re just going to have to leave it here until some of the snow melts.” Yunho looked at you like you had just told him something outrageous.

“Are you serious?” He glared at you, noticing how you made no move to come over and start pushing the car. “Insane actually…” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration as he watched the snow fall from the night sky.

“Listen, I made dinner tonight. It's chili. Come home for now, it's cold, and the snow will pick back up again soon. Come inside, and we can worry about this later.” Yunho stopped and seemed to think to himself for a second, before his eyes flicked over to yours.

He looked at you with a surprising gentleness, roving over your face before landing on your lips for a fraction of a second, so fast you didn’t catch it.

“Alright.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, let's go inside. It's okay. We can worry about it later.”

“That's what I said,” you chirped as you turned your back, beginning the slippery journey back to the house.

“I know that's what you said. I was just rephrasing.” Yunho followed behind, shuffling his feet on the ice so he wouldn’t have to pick them up and risk stepping wrong. It was silent on the way back, both of you too focused on not falling again.

You shed your shoes and coat by the door, turning to Yunho and pointing to the rug on the porch.

“Shoes.” You stated. Yunho looked down and removed his shoes, setting them next to yours.

Satisfied you opened the door, you hung your coat on the hanger in the foyer. “I just cleaned the house.” You mumbled to yourself, as if to affirm the reason you made him leave his snow-filled shoes outside.

Yunho followed behind, hanging his own coat and scarf on the rack. You sighed and fell on the couch, groaning in relief at the warmth that surrounded you.

“There’s chili in the kitchen if you want some.” You closed your eyes, basking in the warmth. The pine candle you lit made the house smell so comforting, taking in a deep breath, you heard Yunho’s breath hitch. When you realized he hadn't said anything yet, you peeked open an eye, only to catch him looking away from you.

His arms came up, smoothly directing his gaze down at his hands, fidgeting and playing with his fingers like he was bored.

He was almost caught, your shirt had ridden up when you laid on the couch, exposing your belly and the hem stopping right where your under boob began. Yunho’s brain nearly short-circuited at the sight, wondering what it would feel like to lie to you on his bed and drag his big hands up and down your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling you…

He blinked, realizing he was much too far in his fantasy, expecting you to be looking at him like he was a pervert. Instead, he caught your eyes glued to his hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. You blinked once. Twice. Before turning round and snatching up the remote, switching the TV on.

“Like I said, dinner’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.” Quickly gaining your composure like you weren't imagining his fingers inside of you, you switched to a cooking channel and sat on the couch, full attention on the screen.

“What's this?” Yunho tapped the back of the couch. “A blanket?” You didn’t look back at him, too embarrassed to show your face.

“Oh yeah, when I was at the store, I saw they were selling soft blankets, so I got you one.” You shrugged it off. When he didn’t respond, you assumed that he just went to the kitchen to eat.

A few more beats of silence, and you thought you were in the clear from your way too hot roommate, when his gentle, rich voice hit your ears like a truck, and you felt your core clench hard.

“Thank you (Name), you’re such a sweetheart. Thanks for always thinking of me.”

Like someone just shot you, you whipped your head around to see Yunho holding the blanket in his hands, towering over you, standing behind the couch. His fingers dipping into the soft, navy blue waves of fleece, his lips upturned in a soft smile, and his eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

He was going to kill you. His hair fell in front of his eyes as his hands slowly caressed the blanket he held, his posture was relaxed as his eyes remained fixed on you, and you swear you saw them flick to your lips for a second.

Your heart stopped and fell to your ass, immediately nervousness took over your body and you felt like a hot mess.

After a few seconds of silence, Yunho’s smile fell, and his eyebrows knitted, like he was frustrated. He leaned his head back and shoved the blanket in his face, groaning into it.

“Don't… look at me like that.” Yunho’s muffled voice spilled from behind the blanket in his face, and you went rigid. How were you looking at him?

“Well, I don't look at me like that either!” You exclaimed, your voice shaking slightly. Yunho moved the blanket from his face, butting on the back of the couch. His eyes locked with yours again. Every time you looked away, he stepped a little closer, until he was sitting next to you.

“Hey, uh. Back up maybe?” You chided, trying to hide how much of a mess he was able to make of you just by looking at you.

“No.” Yunho challenged, looking at you intently. “Stop looking away and look at me.” So you did, you gazed into his eyes and immediately felt weak. His pupils were BLOWN. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, eyebrows cinched as he stared at you like he was trying to pin you to your spot.

He wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t look like he was thinking either. He was just staring. You were starting to feel put on the spot, and you were about to make an excuse to go use the bathroom.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Yunho whispered. You nearly choked on your spit, but his hand lifted and dragged his fingertips down the bridge of your nose with feather-light gentleness, along your eyebrow, along your jawline. Like he was mapping out your face.

“Yunho…” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, it could shatter the atmosphere. The air was thick, and the wind outside howled as the snow picked up again. The house almost seemed too hot now, and frankly, a snowball to the face wouldn’t be so bad right now. Yunho gnawed on his bottom lip.

“How come you never talk to me?” You suddenly blurted it out, instantly regretting it when it slipped out of your mouth. Yunho, obviously taken aback by your question, paused his touches on your face. He let his hand fall onto his lap and quickly grabbed his hand again, encasing it between your own two.

“What I meant is! Like, why don’t we take or hang out more often? I mean that I would like to, not that you… I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about.” Yunho watched as you stumbled over your words, a smile crossing his face again as he chuckled at your franticness.

“(Name), (Name), stop.” The hand he held in your grasp, gently pulled from you, now holding your wrist. Yunho lowered his head and looked at your hand. Keeping his head down, his eyes lifted to meet yours as his thumb pressed onto the pulse point on the inside of your wrist. His other hand came up to your face, cradling your jaw softly.

Your chest felt like it was going to explode, overwhelmed with how Yunho was so close to you, how he was touching you, how he was looking at you.

“You know, I feel bad. You just thought of me while out shopping and got me a gift, but I don’t have anything for you.” Yunho frowned, dropping his gaze back down to your hand, his fingers tracing lightly up the inside of your arm, drawing circles and stars into your skin.

You shrugged gently, trying to brush it off so you didn't seem like you were expecting something back, because truly you weren’t. You just wanted to get him something.

“It’s nothing, Yu, you don’t have to -“

“No, it’s not nothing! Don’t say that.” Yunho squeezed your wrist softly, bringing your arm up and pressing whispers of kisses from your pulse point up your arm, and back down again as he spoke.

“You’re always so thoughtful. Always checking up on me, making amazing meals for us, looking so pretty all the time.” You swallowed, your face quickly heating up at the praise, and the strain in his voice as he spoke. You struggled to find words to reply to him. You never realized how much he appreciated what you do, and frankly, you didn’t realize how much you did for him.

“I wanna give you something too.” His eyes flicked up to yours, searching for consent in your eyes. You didn’t say anything. Then you whispered a question, the doubt in your mind creeping into your words.

“Yunho… you don’t have to give me anything-” Before you could continue, he pressed a finger to your lips to stop you from talking.

“Buh buh buh. Stop. This isn’t for you. Well, it is for you, but it's for me too. I want to. I want to take care of you like you take care of me, (Name).” Yunho’s hand landed on your upper thigh, gently kneading it like he was trying to ease the tension, keeping his eyes on yours.

“Is that okay?” The slow, gentle rub on your thigh was comforting, however, not calming in the least. The tendons in his hands flexed as he stroked his hand about the expanse of your leg. He stopped when your thigh tensed, resuming when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Yes.” barely there, in a whisper.

“Words, angel, use them please.” Yunho inched closer to you on the couch, his other hand coming around to cup the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

His smell enveloped you, his bangs tickled your forehead as his staggering breath fanned against your lips.

“Yes.” You spoke louder, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, testing the waters. “Please.” You expected Yunho to chase your lips, but instead, he just smiled and leaned back.

“I knew it.” Your heart stopped. What's he doing?

“All this time since you moved in, I thought maybe I was a pervert.” He lifted his hand and gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie on your back on the couch, your head on the armrest. He slowly crawled over on top of your body, one leg slotted between your thighs with his knee just barely brushing your core, his hands pressing against the couch by the sides of your head. He brought his face down to yours, space nonexistent between you two as his calm breaths mingled with your nervous ones.

His eyes locked on yours, shamelessly flicking to your lips every few seconds. “You’re always looking at my hands, baby. Do you like them?”

Your breath hitched, and embarrassment crept up your spine. Yeah, he had noticed. This wasn't a new fascination of yours. You had always been drawn to hands in a way, but his specifically. The long, nimble fingers, the prominent veins, and the sheer size of his palm.

Teasingly, he brought his hand up to your face, twisting his wrist to give you a good view. Slowly, he moved his hand down against your throat, his fingertips brushing against the side of your neck softly, up and down, trailing along your collarbones and between your breasts, down until they reached the hem of your shirt.

You watched with bated breath as he teased the hem of your shirt, rubbing it between his fingers, slightly lifting it and letting it fall back down.

“Want me to take it off for you? Undressing you like a gift, yeah?” A quiet whimper slipped from the back of your throat. His hand slipped under your shirt, flattening his large, warm palm against your stomach and caressing your skin gently.

Agonizingly slow, he dragged his hand up, taking his time mapping out your body, his other hand quietly lifting to cup the back of your neck again, pulling your head up to press your forehead against his. His eyes never left you as you felt his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of your breast, tracing light patterns around your areolas so softly it almost tickled. Your stomach clenched at the touch, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

“You're so soft, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. Can’t believe you're letting me..” His large hand cupped your breast, softly kneading the mound.

His fingers twilled the hair on the nape of your neck, occasionally squeezing the back of your neck reassuringly, like he wanted you to know that he had you. He's gonna take care of you.

“Can you whine for me, honey? I love your voice.” You didn't need to hear that, as he slipped his hand from under your shirt, lifting the hem until it sat under your chin.

“Arms up.” Breaking from your stupor, you lifted your arms as he dragged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere in the dim living room. His eyes moved down and locked on your exposed breasts, your nipples hardening in response to the cold.

“There they are. So pretty.” Without warning, his lips crashed with yours, swallowing your whimpers while his hand found your breast again. Messy and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips open for him and slipping into your mouth. He moaned deep into you, his hand massaging your breast roughly as he lost himself in your mouth.

Every buck of his head he tried to push himself closer into you, like he was trying to melt into you, his lips relentless against you, sucking your plush bottom lip and nipping at your tongue teasingly.

Pulling away was hard for him; it almost hurt. He gave himself a moment to take you in. Swollen lips, blown pupils, and frizzy hair. A mess all for him.

His kisses trailed from the back of your ear down your neck and landed around your breasts. Kissing and soothingly running his tongue around them before latching onto your nipple. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, focused on the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your nipple.

Taking this opportunity, his other hand moved from behind your neck and landed on the waistband of your pants, undoing the buttons before slipping his hand past the waistband of your underwear.

Your eyes shot open again at the feeling of his finger tracing a slow deliberate line up your slit, gathering your wetness. You craned your neck to the side, draping your arm over your mouth and avoiding his hot gaze. Yunho clicked his tongue and with surprising ease let his finger press against your opening, sliding perfectly inside of you, his fingertip brushing against your G-spot softly.

“I’m gonna need you to look at me, baby, I can’t give you what you need if you aren't looking at me.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you bit your bottom lip, ripping your arm away from your eyes and slowly focusing your eyes on him. And you almost wished you hadn’t.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, pupils blown and hair tousled all around his flushed face. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his hand disappearing between your legs, his cheek pressed up against your breast, his tongue lolling against it, tracing lazy patterns around your areola. His eyes took you in, like you were the most stunning thing he had laid eyes on, which was the truth.

His eyelids fluted before his lips wrapped around your nipple again, kissing, licking and sucking as he started dragging his finger inside of you, curling it just right in that way that made your breathing hitch and your eyes roll.

“Yu-, fuck…” He nipped at your nipple, immediately soothing it with his tongue and pulling off of you with a slick pop.

“I’m trying so hard to be respectful…” He ground out the words like talking hurt his throat. You were finding it hard to focus with the attention he was giving your body, perfectly pressing your buttons and winding you up like a toy. Easily slipping another finger inside your cunt, you let a groan out deep from your chest, turning him on impossibly more.

“But baby, fuck you’re making this so hard for me…” He let his mouth wrap around your other nipple, massaging your hip with his free hand as he sloppily licked you up like candy.

“So good- wish I could eat you all day. I do…” he moaned between kisses on your breasts, switching between suckling them and biting. “I do. I really fucking do…”

Yunho’s fingers press inside of you harder, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. Unbeknownst to you, he was grinding his rock hard cock against the cushion of the couch, desperately trying to ease the pain from how hard he was feeling you soak his fingers like a slut. Your eyes watered, and you were finding it hard to breathe as his long fingers reached spots you never could. You thought back on the times you’d sit on your bed, trying so hard to reach an earth-shattering climax, imagining his fingers fucking you instead of your own. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

“Fuck baby, cmon get up. On my lap.” Hazily, you watched as he slipped his fingers out of you, sitting on the couch, legs on the ground. Impatiently, his big hands engulfed each side of your waist and lifted your body with ease to sit on his lap. You bent your knees on either side of his thighs, his cock pressed against your wet cunt.

He craned his neck up to look at you, immediately slotting his lips with yours. Working in tandem, his mouth devoured yours, swallowing you up like he needed you to breathe. One hand cupping your neck and pressing you as close as he could, while the other kneaded the flesh of your ass like a stress toy.

Without thinking, eyes closed as you let him fuck your mouth with his tongue, your hand slipped between your intertwined bodies, fishing his dick from out of his pants, hot and heavy in your hand.

His breath stuttered between his kisses, but his lips never left yours as you wrapped your hand around the upper half, your thumb brushing against the slit on his swollen tip.

He bit your lip accidentally at the stimulation, pulling away from your lips finally to look down at your hand wrapped around him.

His breathing quickened, and his hips bucked, chasing more of your touch as you teasingly played with him. You kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyebrows twitch and his eyes shake.

“Baby, you handle me so f-fucking well…” His moans were quiet, but so loud in the silence of your shared home, the snow howling just outside.

Your grip lowered, squeezing the base before dragging your hand up and down the length of him. His head lifted again, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, pressing desperate and wet open-mouth kisses on your collarbone, his barely contained whimpers falling against your heated skin.

“Off..” he groaned into you, but too lost in the feeling of him throbbing in your hand, you didn’t quite understand.

“H-huh?”

“Off, off- clothes off. ‘S so hot…” He shimmied underneath, shedding his shorts and nearly ripping his shirt off.

He grabbed the base of his cock, urging you to lift your hips so he could press his tip against you.

“Nice and slow for me, sweet girl, sit on it. Take your time, don’t wanna hurt yourself…” His eyes locked with yours as you complied with his request, slowly letting your hips sink down on him.

When his tip pressed in, that stupid, lazy boyish smile of his spread across his face, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyebrows cinched, focused on feeling you take him in like he was meant for you.

“There you go, slow… good, mmm, good fucking girl (Name.)” Your breath caught as you continued to lower your hips down onto him. Bottoming out with a groan, your hands gripped his shoulder, your nails digging into the blades.

You both sat there for a second, relishing the intimate feeling of just being connected. Your breaths mingled, and your thighs shook, his hands massaging your waist, squeezing your hips every time they slid back down.

When Yunho finally spoke, it was strained and so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Rock your hips. Grind on me pretty, take what you need from me. Make yourself feel good.”

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, moving your hands to cradle his head. Cautiously testing the waters, you rolled your hips forward, his tip perfectly dragging against that sweet spot deep in your tummy. The moan you let out was borderline pornographic; nobody had ever been so deep in you, and the fact that it was Yunho was so overwhelming.

“Oh god…” You moaned, pressing your lips into his hair, gasping and whining into the soft locks. His hands gripped your hips and helped you move, pushing and pulling you, moving you back and forth on his cock.

“That's it… fuck, always knew you’d take me so well. Like me all in your guts baby, huh?” You nod against him, your breath hitching when he lifted you so you slid up his cock and back down. Effectivley using your body to fuck himself into you.

“Don't stop, keep rolling those hips, angel, do not stop.” His hand came up and gripped your throat, maneuvering your head down so he could kiss you again, groaning into your mouth as you did into his as he fucked you up and down on his cock, your hips contining to grind. With every thrust and every flick of his tongue, his fat tip constantly dragged against that spongy spot inside of you.

A smug laugh slipped past his lips as he watched how desperate you were to feel good, and he was feeling really good about himself as he watched you lose yourself on him.

“Yeah, ride it, baby, ride it…” He bucked his hips, smiling wider when your back went taught feeling the pressure inside of you, as he continued to fuck himself into you slowly, dragging your pleasure out as much as he could.

“This is all for you, for being so good to me all these months, for always being so fucking s-sweet and taking care of me…” He thrusted harder with every other word, like he was enunciating how much this meant to him.

“Thank you Yu- fuck, you’re so big thank you ngh..” He nipped at your bottom lip, giving your throat one more squeeze before moving his hand back down to your hips and forcing your hips to bounce on him a little faster.

“My pretty baby takes dick so well. I regret not fucking you sooner, coulda’ had this pussy a longgg time ago.” Yunho let his finger slip to your clit, rubbing in pressurized circles, dragging the sweetest noises from you.

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but all that came out were strangled moans and staggering breaths. Yunho understood, though, pressing his lips against yours again.

“Cumming baby?” He whispered into your mouth, smiling when you nodded, unable to speak, too busy focusing on your impending orgasm. “Good, let go. Feel it and let go for me.”

Like the obedient slut you were for him, your spine straightened and you gasped, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking train, shotting from your toes and electrifying your body like you had been shocked, up through your stomach to your brain, making you lightheaded.

When he felt you cum, his hips stuttered in you feeling you clench like a vice and began to speed up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- good girl, let me fuck you through it, let me get you through it.”

And thats exactly what he did, without letting up the pace, Yunho fucked into you without abandon, the slap of skin on skin echoing around the living room, mixing with your broken whines and his concentrated groans as he made you fall apart like shattered glass around his dick.

“T-too much–!’ you cried when he continued to bully inside you, his fingers still not letting up on your overstimulated clit. “Gonna c-cum again, Yunho!”

Yunho felt himself reaching his peak, but he would do anything to get you to cum again. With newfound rigor, he rolled his hips into you rough, meanly kissing you and sucking your tongue like he was searching for water.

“Again, angel, again. You can do it.” He moaned loudly into your mouth, his fingers opting to rub your clit slower, this time pushing upward, the pressure increasing tenfold.

Yunho twitched inside of you, feeling as you toppled over the edge again, the second orgasm so much more intense than the first. You couldn't breath, cumming two times so close together. Your thighs burned, and your head spun, vision blurring for a second.

Yunho groaned loudly, bucking his hips a few final times before spilling himself inside of you, continuing to roll his hips into you, riding both of your climaxes out.

You slumped onto him, hands at your side as you regained your breath, thighs sticky, and your body stuck to his. Yunho kissed along your shoulder, allowing you to regain your senses as he came down from his high as well.

Slowly, when you were finally breathing normal, he grabbed your waist and lifted you off of him, sighing as he watched his cock slip out of you, placing you back on the couch.

“Don’t move, I'm gonna go grab a rag.” Yunho stood up and walked down the hallway towards the bedroom. He came back a few seconds later, wearing a pair of sweatpants and carrying a black t-shirt, a pair of underwear, and a wet rag.

He sat down on the floor and gently grabbed your ankles to move your legs to face him, spreading them so he could clean between your thighs. He wiped the cold rag along your inner thighs and cleaned you well, before slipping the pair of underwear over your ankles and up around your hips.

“Here, put this on, it might get cold in here again since we’re not fucking like rabbits anymore.” You both laughed as he handed you the t-shirt. You brought it up to your face, inhaling. It was his, and it smelled like him. You felt fuzzy as you slipped it over your head, smiling when you looked down at him.

He was gazing up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, his hands rubbing absentmindedly along your calves, soothing your aching muscles and placing gentle kisses on your ankles, and up your leg to your knee.

“How are you feeling (Name)?” He waited for your response, his hand never ceasing the gentle massaging.

“Do I even need to say?” You smiled at him, and he smiled back, moving to sit next to you on the couch.

“Guess not, moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.” Instinctively, you smacked his shoulder in disbelief before the words settled in.

Your smile fell, and a worried look crossed your face. “Was I actually?” He let out a hoot of laughter at your reaction.

“I was joking but you were pretty damn loud. It's okay though, cuz you sounded so pretty.” Yunho kissed along your neck, smiling when you twitched from the tickling feeling.

Suddenly, you remembered the dinner that was still in the kitchen, and you stood up and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Come on Yu, I'm fucking starving and you made me forget I made dinner.” Yunho chuckled and stood up, following you to the kitchen to make himself a bowl.

With your food in hand, you sat on the couch together, with you lying between his legs, the back of your head lying against his chest as you ate together. The snow fell quietly, and the TV droned in the background as you basked in each other's presence.

“Does this mean you’ll come out of your man cave more now?” Yunho scowled at you and playfully flicked your forehead.

“Don't get smart with me, young lady…” he paused and smiled.

“Of course, gotta give my girl the attention she deserves, right?”

#ateez #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #ateez fanfiction

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jinusajas · 15 hours ago

Text

06/27/25; 03:45pm

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ you become their bride ]

featuring: jinu, abby, baby, mystery, romance

warnings: unedited; blood mention; virginity loss

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

“if your soul attracts a demon, you’ll either be devoured by them-

or be forced to become their bride because of how enticing it is.”

jinu became a man obsessed the moment he first laid eyes on you. the sweet scent wafting off of you was enough to make his mouth salivate as he thought of ways to seduce you-

to bring your heart so much closer to him before wrapping his darkness around you, extracting your soul for his taking alone.

yet the more he sees your innocent smile-

the more he realizes how beautifully your soul shone within the darkness of his world each time you gazed lovingly at him. the once loyal demon to gwi-ma found that he was utterly weak when it came to you.

so instead of devouring your soul (destroying your light), he chooses to claim you forever as his bride instead-

tying you to him the moment he sinks his teeth into you, partaking in your blood as his cock traces at the outer lips of your cunt. the sweet taste of you causes him to become drunk, golden eyes going hazy as he lovingly frames at your face.

he basks in your soft expression, relishing in your bedroom eyes and the way your breasts heaves in tune to your rapid breaths. he licks away the stray traces of your blood from his lips, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock.

with a wicked grin on his face, jinu slaps his cockhead against your swollen clit, earning a gasp from you as you arched your body against the bed. he shakes his head before descending upon you, taking your legs as he wraps them around his waist before slowly pushing into you.

“i think it’s finally time that we consummate our bond, love.”

your mewls immediately turns into broken moans of his name when he completely sheathes himself inside of you, setting a brutal pace that takes your very breath away.

and with your innocence taken away by him, you knew that you would never be free from him-

now bound to jinu as he confirms his promises of forever with you.

abby never knew the difference between a want and a need.

ever since he became a demon, he never had a care in the world. he would spend days feeding his hunger, devouring the souls of beautiful women that fell for his trap-

seducing them until they became putty in his hands as he quite literally devoured their souls from what had to be their sweetest spot between their legs.

he never denied himself of his wants-

yet that all changes the moment he met you.

you, who’s soul seemed so warm in comparison to the cruel world he has always known.

you, who he swore he could hear the blood pumping through your veins calling out to him-

and that was the first time he realized the true difference between a want and a need.

abby quenching his hunger and thirst for vulnerable young women was simply a means to an end, to satisfy him for a mere moment.

but how he felt for you was an all consuming need to devour you-

to tie your life together with his as he swore to spend the rest of his days worshiping the ground you walked on.

which was why he had you settled back in his bed, naked, with your legs spread as he ate out your pussy like a man starved, devouring you with a fervor that sends you over the edge multiple times throughout the night.

“hah… abby… ngh! i-it’s too much.”

he grunts, shoving a finger inside of your scorching heat as he works on pumping his fingers in and out of you. with the tip of his tongue still buried within you, abby gives you a devilish expression.

“c’mon babygirl… you can cum for me one more time, right?”

you swallow thickly, only managing to give him a single nod before abby dove straight back into you, his ministrations now more pronounced when he covers the entirety of your sex with his mouth.

needless to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night.

“damn you for making me feel this way.”

baby grunts, fucking himself into your heat as his cock kept ramming into you over and over again. your sweet moans and keens of his name was enough to send the demon into a frenzy-

unable to stop slamming his cock back into your scorching heat. he had you pinned on your side, thrusting into your center with this new angle just to reach deeper into your depths. your soft mewls of his name was driving him crazy, making him lose his damn mind as he focused solely on the way your slickness around his stiff cock made him feel.

“ngh, hah! baby… baby it’s t’much…! hah… so… deep.”

letting out a dark chuckle, he kisses at your ankle before speeding up his already swift pounds into you, “shut up and take it. this is what you get for making me so damn obsessed with you.”

after a particularly hard thrust, baby felt a sudden wetness around his cock, making his eyes go wide when he sees the way your cunt froths around his dick. your embarrassed whimpers were all the confirmation he needed to know that you had just came around his cock.

but even if you had reached your completion, he was far from being done with you.

when mystery tore off all your clothes and put you on your hands and knees, you swore you had never felt so vulnerable before in your life.

you felt the bed dip with his added weight as mystery braces himself above you. with his hands settled on top of the sheets, you felt something hot and hard brushing against the underside of your cunt.

smooth lips were felt kissing against the shell of your ear before a particularly hard thrust makes you cry out to him. as he reaches his hands to your front, he plays with your breasts, admiring the way they bounced in tune to his each and every thrust.

a low growl was heard coming from him, and you let out a soft moan the moment he pinches at your hardened nipples, all while biting down against the shell of your ear before hotly whispering, “mine, you’re all mine.”

being taken in this position made you feel so achingly primal. you were unable to see him, yet could hear his each and every grunt of your name-

feel the way his cock was perfectly nestled inside of you each time he impaled your slick walls over and over again as you became drunk off of the pleasure of it all.

you were so close to reaching your release-

able to taste it on the tip of your tongue when mystery suddenly pulls out of you-

making you gasp as you felt the pain of having your climax suddenly ripped away from you.

“myst… t-that was so cruel! i was so close and you just stopped-“

mystery ends up stopping your furious tirade with a kiss, distracting you before slotting his cock back inside of your heat. whispering apologies to you, mystery ends up continuing his lovemaking while in the missionary position.

with his cock back where it belonged, all was forgiven on your end as your nails raked down his back, with you relishing in the pleasure he had given you.

yet perhaps what made your copulation all the sweeter were his whispered words laced with adoration,

“forgive me… i just wanted to see you.”

“ngh… hah! r-rome…!”

romance was basking in your soft mewls of his name, entirely focused on peppering every inch of your skin with his wet kisses.

from the top of your hair to the curve of your breasts, the man was utterly obsessed with how soft you felt against his hard body. he never believed he could feel this way after so many years of being empty-

yet here he was, entirely wrapped around your finger simply because your soul was the only one that spoke to him.

being close to you was like basking in sunlight, where he could feel his entire body become filled with warmth due to your mere presence alone-

and he was becoming addicted to this sensation.

when his hot mouth reaches your chest, he immediately curls his tongue around the hardened bud of your nipple. feeling a sense of pride when he was able to make you arch your back against the bed, he continues to suckle and gently bite at your sensitive skin, not stopping until your moans echo throughout the whole room.

he smirks against your skin, continuing to distract you as his large hands travel lower…

tracing against your hips before spreading your thighs as he slots the palm of his hand over the entirety of your entrance, pushing in two of his fingers before making scissoring motions within your heat.

your reaction was immediate, already clawing at the sheets as you begged him to give you what you oh so desperately craved for, “r-rome please! just give it to me, give me your cock, mph!”

he cuts off your pleas with a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as a cheshire cat grin spreads across his features, “be patient love, and let me take my time enjoying this… enjoying the way i can make you fall apart for me before i even give you what you want.”

end notes: i have such brainrot for the saja boys, it’s not even funny anymore 🙂‍↕️ gonna post this rn bc my phone is heating up and is on only 30% battery.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#jinu smut #abby smut #baby smut #mystery smut #romance smut #jinu x reader #abby x reader #baby x reader #mystery x reader #romance x reader #jinu saja x reader #baby saja x reader #abby saja x reader #mystery saja x reader #romance saja x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpdh smut #kpdh x reader

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thrown-away-opinions · 3 days ago

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Remember a couple years back when everyone was rightfully pissed off that NFT bullshit transactions required an ungodly amount of power? Remember how people were blaming blizzards and tsunamis and hurricanes on crypto transactions?

I don't want you to assume that I'm saying the energy waste that comes from crypto bullshit isn't needlessly excessive. Jackasses are out there inventing new shitcoins every day and further overburdening an already gluttonous system.

Advertising is worse in every single fucking way.

LED Billboards, for example, that they keep building more and more of. There's hundreds of thousands of them in the US alone and each once uses an obscene amount of power just to advertise. Even the ones that don't use massive arrays of LEDs and air conditioning to stop them from overheating are massive metal and concrete foundation structures that need to be physically changed with massive quantities of vinyl or paper. Just for a giant fucking ad on the highway. All that fucking manpower and all those resources and all of the pollution it takes to make one, for a fucking ad telling you to stop at the local strip club or McDonalds.

But I want you to expand your thinking for a moment and consider social media. These sites exist as advertising space. Even if you make an account solely with the intent of interacting with your friends, seeing funny memes, or staying informed about things that interest you, all of those things are enticement to use their platform so they can serve you ads. Constant talk of "engagement" and "retention" are just corpospeak for the amount of time they can keep a user on the platform so they can see the most ads possible.

Consider youtube and tiktok and twitter and other platforms that dangle the promise of payouts if a user gets enough views and followers. It is incentivizing users to come up with methods of raising engagement and retention so people can see more ads. Advertising is manipulating people to make themselves into ideal advertising tools.

It's an extremely cynical and interpretation of things, because the value gain from human communication and interaction and other elements far outweigh the evil of the ads, but even that is heavily influenced by the ads. Like when the platform decides that certain words or topics aren't allowed and you get the babyfication of language. Conversely, trends and algorithms and what is likely to get the most clicks, which influences what kind of videos and art people make to stay on top and retain their income.

The value of learning about the latest drama involving Baby Gronk and Mr. Shit is is nonexistent and it is being done purely because drama and gossip content gets good engagement (lots of ad views) and pays well for the creator and gives them another opportunity to get a sponsored ad read, so now it's not just the platform, but the people on it serving you ads.

And those sponsors are quite often bad for everyone involved. Scams or dropshipped plastic bullshit or slave labor produced overpriced shit that is supposed to fix a problem you don't have. Landfills are getting loaded with water bottles and wireless earbuds and the packaging from shitty meal prep services. Feel bad about it? Talk to an unlicensed therapist from a company that is data mining your mental health profile. Go shopping with this cool app that saves you money by datamining you and affiliate link sniping the creator you thought you were supporting. Use that money you saved on garbage from chinese Amazon.

And when you've finally gotten sick of all of that and realized you're wasting your time, you can take online courses with this subscription service so you can learn to create slick, eyecatching, advertiser friendly content become an advertiser too!

Consider the e-waste the comes from so many people thinking they're going to become twitch streamers or youtubers. Trading out for the latest iphone, buying tons of lights and accessories and recording equipment. The amount of content creator-adjacent bullshit that ends up in the garbage when it breaks or when their "career" doesn't take off and they don't get to be an advertising space on the internet. Consider all the people whose entire PC setup exists almost solely for content creation.

And then there's content mills. A global industry of people desperately churning out incoherent sludge as fast as possible. On top of all of the issues above, the manpower, the hardware, the e-waste, the electricity, and the fucking bandwidth, the promise of advertising, affiliate link, and sponsor money from attempting to exploit algorithms for the sake of serving more ads has taken large numbers of people is underdeveloped and economically weak countries out of the workforce so they can crudely animate videos of Slenderman giving Pomni a root canal, because that does well in the algorithm, somehow.

And if we jump back to the NFT/Crypto problem of wasteful internet usage for every minor action, advertising giving way to sludge content and sponsor-driven content causes our entire global information network to be constantly pushing around incomprehensible amounts of bullshit data to feed this shit that exists solely for the benefit of advertisers, wasting untold amounts of energy so you can get ads and sludge content in your endless scroll feed at all times, on every news site, on every search results page, no matter what you do to stop it, because advertising has so much fucking control over the internet that they are now trying to FORCE PEOPLE TO SEE ADS BY TRYING TO SHUT DOWN ADBLOCKERS.

You do not hate advertising enough.

Also I've said this before but advertising is an industry that should be considered as pointless and harmful as fossil fuels.

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lilirae00 · 21 hours ago

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Hard Launch - Part 2

Paige x Azzi

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, you've been warned. Minors DNI. Also more fluff and fun interactions with the team afterward.

a/n: After part one, I really had more little scenes I thought worked well with this idea of the aftermath of the hard launch so I made a part two. Just some sexy times after the charity gala and fun conversations about the future. Enjoy!

Hard Launch Part One HERE

—-

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Paige exhaled slowly, pressing her back against the door, her chest rising and falling like she’d just finished a game. She looked across the room at Azzi—barefoot now, her heels dangling in one hand, the soft silk of her champagne-colored dress glinting in the low apartment light.

“You know,” Paige said, voice husky, “I’ve been trying to keep it together all night.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Yeah? You looked pretty composed to me.”

“That’s because I had to be.” Paige pushed off the door, walking toward her with purpose. “But now that we’re home… I don’t have to pretend.”

Azzi tilted her head, teasing. “Pretend what?”

Paige stopped in front of her, eyes roaming her face, her neck, her body. “Pretend I wasn’t picturing this the entire night.”

Azzi’s breath caught just as Paige leaned in to kiss her—soft at first, just the brush of lips, but then deeper. Hungrier. Azzi dropped her heels to the floor and reached up, undoing Paige’s tie with practiced ease.

“You’re gonna ruin this suit,” she murmured between kisses.

Paige smirked against her mouth. “It was always for you to take off.”

They made it to the bedroom in slow, stumbling steps—Paige’s jacket hitting the floor, Azzi’s dress unzipped and slipping down her back. When Paige pulled back to take in the sight of her, nearly bare and glowing in the soft bedroom light, she froze.

“You’re unreal,” she whispered. “Like… I don’t even know how you’re real.”

Azzi stepped close and hooked her finger into the waistband of Paige’s briefs and started pulling them down. “Then maybe you should stop thinking and start showing me.”

They kissed again—deeper now. Azzi moaned when Paige’s hands slid down to grip her thighs, lifting her up with ease and lowering her gently onto the bed. Paige kissed down her body, murmuring between each kiss: “This… is… mine.”

Azzi arched under her touch. “Yours,” she echoed, breathless.

Paige took her time, exploring every inch of skin with mouth and hands—pressing kisses to Azzi’s collarbone, the curve of her breast, the dip of her stomach. Her touch was both reverent and hungry, like she was worshipping and claiming her all at once.

Azzi shivered under Paige’s mouth, fingers threading through her long blonde hair with a breathy sigh. Paige moved slowly, pressing kisses to the soft skin just above her hip before her hand drifted lower, sliding between Azzi’s thighs.

She paused there, letting her fingers brush gently, feeling how wet Azzi already was. Azzi gasped and lifted her hips into the touch instinctively.

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, approving smile against her skin. “You’re so ready for me,” she murmured, voice low and thick with want.

Azzi’s breathing stuttered, her eyes heavy-lidded as she met Paige’s gaze, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

Paige let her fingers linger, stroking softly, feeling Azzi grow even wetter under her touch before finally pulling back just enough to look at her, desire burning in her eyes.

When Paige reached toward the nightstand drawer, she paused, fingers hovering over the harness. Her voice dropped into something quiet, hesitant.

“Can I use it?” she asked. “I really want—need you to ride me.”

Azzi’s eyes darkened instantly. She nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Paige kissed her, then got up slowly, strapping in with practiced hands, her jaw tight with anticipation. Azzi watched her, lips parted, chest rising, already curling her fingers into the sheets.

“You sure?” Paige asked again, crawling to lie back on the bed.

Azzi pushed herself up and swung a leg over Paige’s waist, hovering just above her stomach. Paige could feel the slick heat dripping onto her skin, making her breath hitch. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Paige kissed Azzi’s jaw softly, voice steady and low. “Hold still for me.”

She let her fingers slip between Azzi’s thighs, moving gently, gathering the warmth and slick there with patient care. Azzi shivered under her touch, breath catching.

Paige met her gaze, eyes dark but full of tenderness, as she smoothed the wetness carefully over the strap. “Just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” she murmured, pressing their foreheads together, sharing the quiet heat between them.

Azzi closed her eyes, exhaling shakily, leaning in so their noses brushed. “I’m ready, P. I want you.”

Their mouths met again, slower this time—hot and full of intent. Paige’s hands gripped her hips as Azzi shifted up, angling herself and slowly sinking down.

Azzi let out a long, broken moan as she took in the full length, her voice high and desperate, filling the space between them. She couldn’t hold it back, the sound raw and needy, making Paige’s breath catch in her chest.

Paige watched as Azzi sank down, groaning beneath her. “Fuck, Azzi… that’s hot.”

Azzi leaned forward, planting her palms on Paige’s abs, grounding herself as she began to move up and down—slow and rolling, grinding down hard enough to make them both gasp.

With every thrust, the base of the strap dragged perfectly against Paige’s clit, tricking her body into believing she was the one sinking into Azzi’s heat, feeling her pulse and clench around her.

“Look at me,” Paige said, her voice thick and rough as she reached up and squeezed both of Azzi’s breasts into her hands.

Azzi obeyed, eyes locked on hers as she rocked. “I love how you look at me when I’m like this.”

“You ride me like you were made for it,” Paige muttered, hands moving down to Azzi’s hips, then to her ass, guiding her movements, helping her grind harder, deeper.

Azzi moaned and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Because I was. I am. I love making you lose control.”

Paige’s breath stuttered in response. She shifted, sitting up straighter so their chests pressed flush together. Her arms wrapped tight around Azzi’s back, locking her in.

She pressed hot, messy kisses to Azzi’s collarbone, lips parting around her skin as her teeth grazed just enough to draw a gasp. Then she softened it with her tongue, murmuring against her skin.

“Fuck,” Paige rasped. “It feels so good.”

Azzi whimpered, rolling her hips in slow, grinding circles that made them both moan. Her fingers tangled in Paige’s hair, tugging lightly to tilt her face up, kissing her with messy, open-mouthed hunger.

Paige kissed her like she needed oxygen, hands gripping Azzi’s back, guiding her movement as she pressed her hips up into her. They stayed locked like that for a few heated seconds, breath mingling, tongues meeting, before Paige finally broke away for air, panting.

She loosened her hold and let herself fall back onto the pillows. Paige’s eyes were dark, wanting, but steady. She let her hands settle on Azzi’s hips, fingers digging in with intent.

“You’re doing so good, mama,” Paige said, voice low but clear. “Let me see you take it.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the command. She straightened her spine, bracing her hands on Paige’s stomach as she began to move—lifting herself slowly and then sinking back down with a moan, letting Paige see everything. Paige’s eyes tracked every movement, jaw tight, breath coming faster.

Azzi built her rhythm, finding the right angle that made them both gasp. Paige’s hands slid down to grip her ass again, helping her move faster, deeper. The wet sound of them meeting filled the room. Paige’s head fell back, eyes fluttering shut with a raw groan.

Azzi let out a ragged moan, breath hot and uneven. “Shit—my legs are burning for you,” she panted, voice thick with heat and pride. She didn’t slow down, rolling her hips even harder, wanting Paige to feel every bit of how hard she was working to make them both come.

Paige’s eyes snapped open, locking on her with wild need. Her voice cracked with urgency.

“Don’t stop,” Paige growled, breath shaking. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Azzi whimpered at the praise and the command, obeying immediately—riding her harder now, hips slamming down in quick, desperate rhythm. Their skin clashed, the air thick with ragged breaths, low moans, and whispered words.

Paige’s breath stuttered, her hand moving between them, fingers brushing Azzi’s clit just enough to make her hips jolt in response. “You’re perfect,” Paige whispered. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Azzi gasped, leaning down to bury her face in Paige’s neck. “Only yours.”

“Then don’t hold back.”

Azzi rolled her hips faster now, matching the rhythm of Paige’s thrusts. The slap of skin meeting skin echoed softly, the air thick with ragged breaths, low moans, and whispered words.

Paige’s breath caught as she watched Azzi move over her, strong and gorgeous and completely hers. All the tension she’d carried from the press conference—the fear, the nerves about going public—melted away with every roll of Azzi’s hips.

This was Azzi proving she was hers, and Paige felt like she’d break from how much she needed it.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” Paige said, her lips brushing Azzi’s shoulder. “God I needed this… to see you like this. After tonight, after everything…”

“I know,” Azzi replied, her voice trembling. “You have me. All of me.”

Paige kissed her again—deeper now—as her hand moved between them, adding more pressure just as Azzi’s body began to shake.

“You close?” she whispered.

Azzi nodded against her lips. “Yes right there… baby, please—”

Azzi’s hips ground into Paige with quick, desperate rhythm, and Paige could feel her own release approaching fast.

“Fuck, I’m close too. I wanna hear you, baby,” Paige panted, voice rough with need. “Let me hear how good it is. Don’t hold back for me.”

Hearing that was all the permission Azzi needed to let go. Her body tensed, breath shivering before she cried out, voice ragged.

“Fuck—Paige—you feel so good—I’m coming—don’t stop—”

Paige watched in awe as Azzi threw her head back in pleasure and cried out. She lifted her hips to meet Azzi’s erratic rhythm, helping her ride out every last wave of it—until Paige’s own release overtook her.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Paige moaned, gripping Azzi’s thighs tight, her fingernails digging in deep as her whole body shook with pleasure.

When Azzi finally collapsed onto her—skin damp, body spent—Paige gently brushed her curls away from her face.

“You okay?” she whispered, kissing her gently.

Azzi mumbled, still breathless. “Just needa minute.”

Paige smiled and held her closer, heart full and chest heaving. “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”

Azzi nodded against Paige’s chest.

For a long moment, neither of them moved—just the quiet rhythm of their breathing syncing as the world outside their bed disappeared.

Paige pressed a kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, lingering there as she whispered, “Take a breath, baby. I’m gonna pull out.”

Azzi inhaled, slow and steady, and Paige gently eased out from under her. Azzi let out a sleepy sound of protest, but Paige just smiled and smoothed a hand down her thigh before slipping off the bed.

In the dim glow of the lamp, Paige unbuckled the harness and set it aside, then padded barefoot into the bathroom. She ran warm water over a soft washcloth, testing the temperature on her wrist before wringing it out. She took a deep breath, still catching little sparks of her own release buzzing through her limbs.

When she returned, Azzi had rolled onto her side, eyes barely open, but waiting for her. Paige climbed back onto the bed and wordlessly settled between her legs, her touch slow, reverent.

The first press of the cloth made Azzi flinch slightly.

“Too much?” Paige asked softly, brushing her knuckles over her knee.

Azzi shook her head. “No. Just… really sensitive.”

Paige’s expression softened. “Okay. I’ll be gentle.”

She moved with care, dabbing the cloth along the inside of Azzi’s thighs, catching the wetness between her folds with slow, deliberate motions. She wasn’t in a hurry—this was just as intimate, just as important.

Azzi’s fingers found Paige’s forearm, grounding herself in the contact. “You always take care of me like this.”

Paige looked up, her voice warm and low. “Of course I do. You gave me everything tonight. I just wanna make you feel safe. Loved.”

“You do,” Azzi whispered. “Always.”

Once she was done, Paige tossed the cloth to the floor, climbed up beside her, and tucked Azzi in against her chest. Their skin was still warm and slightly damp, but neither of them cared. Paige wrapped a blanket over both of them, her chin resting on Azzi’s hair.

Azzi’s voice came out drowsy. “You think we’ll always be like this?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

“Even if we’re on opposite sides of the court?”

“I’ll still be yours,” Paige murmured. “Same team, different team, together or 1000 miles apart...”

Azzi let out a long exhale before finishing Paige’s sentence, “We gon ride till the wheels fall off.”

Paige smiled and pulled Azzi closer, “that’s right.”

The room fell quiet, the only sound a gentle hum of the air conditioning and the soft brush of skin on skin as they slowly drifted into sleep—held, known, and wholly loved.

—-

As morning came, the sun leaked slowly into the room, slanting golden across tangled sheets and bare bodies. Paige stirred first, still half on her stomach, cheek pressed against the pillow. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting.

Beside her, Azzi was curled inward, one leg tangled with Paige’s, arm draped over her waist, hair spread out across the pillow like a halo.

For a few long minutes, Paige didn’t move. She just watched her sleep, felt the weight of Azzi’s body against hers, and let the silence wrap around them like a blanket.

Azzi shifted slightly, brow furrowing like she could feel the eyes on her. Her voice was low, barely a whisper.

“You’re staring.”

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re pretty.”

Azzi cracked one eye open, smirking. “That’s the only reason?”

Paige leaned in, kissed the tip of her nose. “That and… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this calm.”

Azzi stretched out a little, limbs brushing against warm sheets, body still sore in the best way. She let out a low, sleepy groan, burying her face in the pillow for a moment before turning to look at Paige.

Paige watched her with soft, half-lidded eyes, one arm tucked behind her head, hair messy from sleep. She reached over and traced lazy circles on Azzi’s hip with her thumb.

“You okay?” Paige asked gently.

Azzi nodded, voice still rough with sleep. “Yeah. Just… a little sore.”

Paige’s hand drifted down to Azzi’s thigh, fingertips skimming over the skin there. She paused when she felt the faint crescent-shaped marks she’d left behind last night, the little indents from where her nails had dug in. Her chest tightened.

“Too much?” Paige asked quietly, her thumb brushing carefully over one of the marks.

Azzi’s lips curved into a slow, tired smile. She reached down to cover Paige’s hand with hers, squeezing it. “Not too much. Just… enough to remember how good it was.”

Paige let out a small breath, relief clear on her face. She pressed a soft kiss to Azzi’s temple. “You’d tell me if it was too much though, right?”

Azzi nodded immediately. “Of course. You’re always careful with me. Even when you lose it a little.”

Paige gave a sheepish little laugh. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Azzi glanced down at where Paige’s fingers still rested over the marks, then back up at her with a spark of heat in her sleepy eyes. “I like having proof,” she teased softly.

Paige’s mouth quirked in a warm, crooked smile, eyes softening. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Azzi leaned in and kissed her gently, lingering. When they pulled back, their foreheads rested together.

“I do,” Azzi whispered. “Always with you.

They laid like that for a while, quietly tracing skin, exchanging sleepy kisses, wordlessly soaking in the peace of being known. There was nothing to explain. Nothing to run from. Just the soft, golden hum of morning and the solid weight of each other.

Eventually, Azzi lifted her head and smiled. “Want to go get breakfast?”

She glanced at the clock. “Or more like brunch.”

Paige yawned and buried her face into Azzi’s neck. “Only if you promise to let me order something ridiculous.”

“Like a tower of pancakes and a mimosa the size of your face?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi laughed. “Deal.”

—-

They didn’t try to hide.

Paige wore joggers, a Wings t-shirt, and a messy bun that Azzi had playfully tugged into shape before they left. Azzi threw on a cropped tee, biker shorts, and sunglasses, letting her curls live wild and untamed. They didn’t match, didn’t coordinate, and didn’t care.

The place was a little hole-in-the-wall brunch spot Paige had found during training camp. It had outdoor seating, terrible parking, and some of the best French toast in Texas.

They sat outside, elbows brushing, legs tangled under the table. Paige poured syrup over her pancakes with alarming precision while Azzi scrolled through her phone, snorting at DMs.

“Oh my god,” Azzi said, holding up a screenshot. “Someone made an edit of us from the red carpet with the caption, ‘the WNBA power couple we didn’t deserve.’”

Paige peeked over and smirked. “Accurate.”

Azzi scrolled further, snorting. “People are seriously shipping us so hard. Look at this—‘Queens. Soulmates. I’m crying.’”

Paige raised an eyebrow, cutting into her pancakes. “As long as they don’t know what we did last night, they can write whatever they want.”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, eyes wide. “Paige!”

Paige just shrugged, lips twitching. “What? I’m just saying. You were… pretty loud.”

Azzi kicked her lightly under the table, cheeks pink. “Stop. Oh my god.”

Paige leaned in closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Azzi couldn’t help it—she laughed so hard she snorted, burying her face in her hands. “You’re the worst.”

Paige grinned, eyes warm and shameless. “You love it.”

They were halfway through breakfast when a teenage girl hovered at the edge of their table, fidgeting with the strap of her backpack.

“Um… sorry to bother you,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “Are you Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd?”

Azzi smiled gently. “We are.”

The girl beamed. “You guys are… like, my favorite players. I just wanted to say that what you posted last night? It was really cool. You’re both so cool.”

Paige’s smile softened, a hand instinctively resting on Azzi’s knee under the table. “Thanks for saying that.”

The girl glanced around. “Would it be okay to get a picture?”

Azzi stood first. “Of course.”

They posed together—Paige towering slightly behind, Azzi at the girl’s side, all smiles. When the girl left, practically floating, Azzi sat down and looked over at Paige with raised brows.

“You okay?”

Paige hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what it’d be like… people seeing us after getting that confirmation.”

Azzi reached across the table, lacing their fingers together. “But?”

Paige looked at her like the sun had just risen again. “But I think I’m gonna like this.”

Just then, someone from a table nearby called out, “Hey! Go Wings! And congrats, y’all look amazing together!”

Paige flushed a little but didn’t let go of Azzi’s hand.

“I think I’m really gonna like this,” she said again, smiling wide.

—-

The next night was one of Paige’s rare nights off from the game of basketball—no games, no practice. Just a quiet night out with friends.

The four of them sat at a corner table on the rooftop patio of one of Dallas’ trendiest restaurants—string lights twinkling above, live music floating from the bar inside, and the scent of grilled steak and warm bread drifting in the air.

Paige had on a purple button-down with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, one arm draped casually behind Azzi’s chair. Azzi wore a sleeveless cream top tucked into high-waisted jeans and looked impossibly good, not that Paige was keeping score.

Across the table, Dijonai and NaLyssa were already mid-banter, cracking jokes over their drinks like they’d been waiting for an audience.

“Oh I know,” Lyss said, swirling her margarita, “this girl convinced her college team she was straight for two whole seasons.”

“I didn’t say I was straight,” Nai defended with a smirk. “I just… didn’t correct anyone.”

Azzi laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

Paige groaned. “Why is it always us getting called out?”

Lyss grinned. “Because now you two are all over everyone’s for you pages with your soft launches and slow burns and ‘who’s the top’ Twitter threads.”

Azzi leaned into Paige’s shoulder, smiling proudly. “That’s what makes it fun.”

“You know we were rooting for you the whole time, right?” Nai said, resting her chin in her palm. “Like, even before you ever said anything. Lyss literally said when we watched the draft, ‘They’re either dating or practicing for a rom-com.’”

“I did say that,” Lyss confirmed with a satisfied nod.

Paige chuckled, cheeks warm. “Well, you were right. Sorry we didn’t give you the hard launch sooner.”

“We’ve been there,” Nai said, voice softer now. “We know it’s not easy.”

The table settled for a moment into that comfortable space only people with shared experience can reach. Paige reached for Azzi’s hand under the table, squeezing it once.

“So, Az,” Nai asked after a few bites of food, “you declaring next year?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’s always been the plan. I’ve been trying not to overthink it.”

“You’ll kill it,” Nai said with full confidence. “You’re already league-ready. And if you end up here with us? That’s just bonus.”

Lyss smiled across the table. “Seriously. It’d be dope to have another couple in the locker room. You two would take all the heat off us.”

Azzi laughed. “You say that like y’all aren’t fan favorites.”

“Yeah, but we don’t get edits with angel wings and background music,” Lyss teased.

Paige leaned back, playing it cool. “What can I say? We’re marketable.”

Azzi elbowed her lightly. “And humble.”

Lyss raised her brows, then tilted her head slightly. “So, real talk—have y’all talked about what next year might look like? I mean… with the draft, long-distance again, different cities maybe?”

The question wasn’t pointed—it was kind. Genuine. But it still made Paige pause.

Azzi answered first. “We’ve talked about it. It’s still early, and obviously I don’t know where I’ll end up. But we’ve done the distance thing before.”

“And survived it,” Paige added. “Barely.”

That made Azzi laugh, but she squeezed Paige’s hand again.

“We’ll figure it out,” Azzi said, her tone soft but solid. “We always do.”

Nai nodded. “That’s what it’s about. Doesn’t matter where you play, just that you stay on the same page. It’s the league, yeah—but it’s your life too.”

“You don’t have to do it how anyone else did,” Lyss added. “You can build it your way.”

Azzi smiled at them. “Thanks. Seriously. It means a lot coming from you two.”

The rest of dinner flowed easy—swapping rookie stories, trading gossip, laughing over Nai’s ongoing beef with her DoorDash driver. At one point, Azzi reached for a fry from Paige’s plate and Paige caught her hand mid-air, mock scandalized.

“Boundaries,” Paige said, holding her plate protectively.

“I shared my dessert with you!”

“That was voluntary.”

“You’re in love with me!”

“Barely.”

Azzi shoved her anyway and Paige kissed her cheek mid-protest, drawing a chorus of teasing whoops from across the table.

By the end of the meal, the check arrived with a note from their server:

“Go Wings! Good luck later this week!”

They all smiled.

—-

The next day at practice, the ball thudded against the hardwood as Paige hit another pull-up jumper from the elbow, the sound sharp and clean in the mostly empty gym. A few players lingered for extra reps, but most had already hit the locker room.

Paige stayed behind, rhythmically grabbing her rebounds, one after the other.

“You tryna make the rest of us look bad or something?”

Paige glanced over her shoulder to see Lyss walking toward her with a towel slung over her neck and a knowing smile on her face.

“Just keeping my hands busy,” Paige replied, catching her own rebound and tucking it under one arm.

Lyss raised an eyebrow. “Your hands or your head?”

Paige sighed, then offered a small grin. “Both.”

They walked to the bench and sat, sweat still drying on their skin.

“I’m assuming this is about Azzi,” Lyss said, gently.

Paige didn’t answer right away. She stared down at the basketball between her hands. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation we all had at dinner last night.”

She paused before adding, “I know me and Azzi are good…we’re solid. But sometimes it just… hits me, y’know? This league is a grind. Long seasons. Different cities. The pressure. The travel. The media. I just—sometimes I wonder if love like this fits into something like that.”

Lyss nodded slowly, giving her space. “You’re asking the right questions.”

Just then, Nai came around the corner from the weight room, spotted them, and walked over mid-sip of her protein shake. “What’d I miss?”

“Paige’s existential love crisis,” Lyss said casually.

“Ah,” Nai said, sitting on Paige’s other side. “Classic.”

Paige smiled despite herself.

“Listen,” Nai continued, nudging Paige’s shoulder with her own. “When Lyss and I were on separate teams, it sucked. We were lucky if we saw each other twice a month during the season. You know how we made it work?”

“Tell me.”

“We wanted to,” Lyss said simply. “That’s it. That’s the whole secret. We both decided to try, even when it wasn’t convenient. Even when it was hard.”

Nai leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You love her, right?”

“More than anything,” Paige said instantly.

Lyss smiled. “Then you’re already doing the hardest part.”

Paige blinked.

“Letting yourself love someone that deeply and not holding back?” Lyss added. “That’s scarier than any travel schedule or media headline. And you already did that.”

Paige looked between them, the weight in her chest loosening just a little. “Thanks. Really.”

“That’s what teammates are for,” Nai said, patting her back.

“Now go home to your girl before she calls me asking if you died in the gym,” Lyss teased.

Paige stood, tucking the ball under her arm again. “Y’all are soft for being so good at advice.”

“And you’re lucky we like you,” Nai called after her.

—-

Paige let herself into the apartment with a slow exhale. Her body ached from drills, but her head was clearer. She dropped her gym bag by the door, pulled off her shoes, and wandered in—

And paused.

The apartment smelled like lemon and fresh linen. The floor was clean. The dishes were gone from the sink. The laundry was folded and stacked neatly on the couch.

And Azzi stood in the middle of it all, barefoot in soft shorts and one of Paige’s oversized sweatshirts, hair tied up, AirPods in as she folded the last towel and hummed along to her music.

Paige didn’t say a word. She just watched, heart thudding in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend doing something so simple—so deeply thoughtful—without ever needing recognition.

Azzi finally noticed her and pulled out one earbud. “Hey babe.”

Paige walked toward her slowly, set her water bottle on the counter, and wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, burying her face in her shoulder.

“You okay?” Azzi asked, arms wrapping back around her instinctively.

“I love you,” Paige mumbled. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to see her face. “You good?”

Paige nodded, eyes soft. “I was overthinking earlier. About the future. About how we make this work once you’re in the league.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize I’m an idiot for doubting us,” she said with a small, emotional laugh. “You cleaned our whole damn apartment while I was out spiraling.”

Azzi shrugged. “I know how your brain gets. Figured a little peace and quiet might help.”

Paige’s throat tightened. “Well… it worked.”

Paige leaned in and kissed her, long and slow.

They ended up on the couch with tea and leftover cookies, knees tangled, Azzi tucked under Paige’s arm.

“So… what do you want next year to look like?” Paige asked quietly, running her fingers through Azzi’s curls.

“I want to get drafted. I want to play hard. I want to prove I belong in the league.”

“You will.”

“And I want us to stay us. No matter what. Even if I end up in Minnesota and you’re here. Even if we don’t always have nights like this.”

Paige nodded. “We will.”

“We’ll just have to work at it. Like Lyss and Nai did.”

Paige smiled. “I had a long talk with them today.”

Azzi glanced up. “Yeah?”

“They made me realize something. All the external stuff doesn’t matter. Not if the person you’re with makes you feel like home.”

Azzi kissed her collarbone and rested her head back against her. “Then I’m always gonna make you feel like home.”

Paige exhaled slowly and contently, brushing hair off Azzi’s face.

Azzi grinned sleepily, voice muffled against her. “Think we should post a thirst trap next?”

Paige let out a low laugh, pulling her closer. “God, I love you.”

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s neck, giggling. “Just saying. The people are hungry.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #azzi fudd #paige and azzi #paige bueckers

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flowercrowncrip · 16 hours ago

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I really hate how much I have to prioritise able bodied egos just to stay safe as a powerchair user.

Like, I get a lot of uncomfortable pitying interactions because I use a wheelchair and the number of strangers who think it’s okay to touch me or who come out with really odd things is way higher than people think.

Today a random stranger insisted on giving me (and only me) a fist bump. Presumably he thought the poor disabled person needed cheering up, maybe he just wanted to look like a good person. Did I want to touch a random stranger? No. But I did because it felt like the safest and quickest way out of an uncomfortable situation.

Yes, theoretically I could have blanked him, or told him not to touch me. And maybe some people would, but to me it just feels really unsafe. I know that most of the time it would be fine, but I also know from experience how quickly a situation can change if I appear ungrateful (seemingly the ultimate sin for a disabled person)

And if someone starts yelling at me and/or following me (it’s happened) I cannot get away quickly. My chair just isn’t built for either speed or agility. Most advice I’ve seen tells you to enter a shop if this happens in public but I can’t physically enter like 90% of the shops near me.

And on the off chance it gets physical and I need to defend myself, I’m fucked unless someone else intervenes. Yeah, the chance of this happening is really low, but it’s not zero (especially if alcohol is involved) and the consequences of getting hurt could be really severe. I once had someone try and punch me because he kept walking into my chair in a space so crowded I physically couldn’t get out the way. The only reason I didn’t get badly hurt was because other people saw him going for me and physically dragged him away. That’s not always going to happen, and sadly people won’t always be on my side.

I also live in a small town while being incredibly memorable and terrible with faces. Chances are if I bumped into that person again they’d remember me instantly as the ungrateful angry cripple, and I wouldn’t have a clue who they were until too late. If people are watching I could also very quickly get a reputation for being ungrateful, rude or angry, which is a reputation that that could make my life tangibly harder and even attract more violence.

And sure, it’s just a fist bump, or a blessing, or someone admiring my chair with their hands. They probably mean well. But it adds up and makes it so obvious that when people look at me they see my wheelchair and don’t bother to look any further. They see that I’m in a chair and that’s all they feel they need to know to make a judgment about what my life looks like, and who I am. They treat me in a way that makes them feel like a good person, without ever questioning their assumptions about what I might want in a situation.

And if I challenge them, and ruin their good person feelings, then I must be uniquely awful. Don’t I know they were just trying to help? Don’t I know their taxes pay my benefits? Don’t I know that their feelings matter so much more than my dignity and personal space?

For me it’s not worth the risk over something relatively small with a stranger. But all those small things add up into something huge. Something like this happens at least once a week, more depending on how often I leave the house so it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m around people I don’t know.

And I’m just tired of it.

#disability #physical disability #wheelchair user #powerchair user #cripplepunk

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alicethenobody · 3 days ago

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I think maybe one of the reasons Dante is so often misunderstood as a character is because he’s never written in just one specific way. I fee like different eras of the franchise have him act in different ways depending on where he is in his life.

In 3 he is often described as “A younger Dante who lacks the maturity DMC1 Dante had.” As he’s kind of a dick early on and doesn’t really care about much happening besides his beef with Vergil. That is until he gets his character development, of course. Dante’s Awakening has a double meaning because he awoke to his DT and awoke to justice like his father.

In 2 and the Madhouse anime we see a Dante who’s way more reserved and he can come across as cold sometimes, as he’d been dealing with grief and thought the only way to protect people was to be cold to them so they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. This is a trauma response to Nell, Grue, Jessica, and Vergil’s deaths (or “death” in Vergil’s case) in the Madhouse anime it’s implied he was kinda pushing away Lady and Trish for a while, with Trish being a little surprised he offered a place for her if she ever needed somewhere to stay. Thankfully this isn’t the case anymore starting with 4 where we see the trio hanging out and having fun.

Speaking of. 1, 4, and 5 Dante + multiple spinoffs or crossover media like PxZ, PGR, MvC, etc. We see him being warm and friendly to people. Compare how he interacts with Lucia in Before The Nightmare and DMC2, it’s honestly night and day.

So for me I see Dante’s default as a warm and friendly guy who’s also jokey but I mean friends joke with each other all the time so that’s an aspect of his friendliness. But might put on an act of coldness like he did in 2 and sometimes in the Madhouse anime if he deems it necessary. It’s really a show of how selfless he is, but too selfless, because he’s essentially hurting himself for the sake of others. He doesn’t believe he deserves happiness because he blames himself for things that aren’t his fault like the fact Nero didn’t have a father or the deaths of his loved ones. He’s clearly very lonely and doesn’t enjoy pushing people away.

This man needs therapy and hugs.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante #dante devil may cry #dante sparda #dmc dante #opinion

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tywrites · 3 days ago

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heavy | mateo manta

pairing: mateo manta x gn!reader

word count: 1,360 (not proof-read)

warnings: reader is implied to have depression

a/n: okay so this is really bad since i haven't written in quite a long time but!! i love him and i Needed to write something abt him. i desperately need more mateo fics lmao. hope you enjoy <33

-----

You rolled over in your bed, the usually comforting plush of your mattress feeling awfully cold today. You sighed, closing your eyes and quietly hoping to just fall back to sleep. Things had been… difficult recently. Losing your job had definitely taken its toll on you – on your mental health in particular. Even when working from home, you still had to make the time to leave every so often and interact with the real world. But with everything that had happened recently with the dateviators, you hadn’t been able to leave at all.

Of course, you still had the objects. And they were great company! Most of them anyway. But it didn’t stop you from feeling a bit… alone sometimes. You sighed softly, finally accepting the fact that sleep wasn’t coming. You looked over to your end table at the dateviators. You had a lot to do. It was really overwhelming, honestly. You hadn’t even met all of the objects in the house yet, let alone made any progress towards realising any. You had made a lot of close friends through them though. And even one very special, different relationship…

Even just thinking of Mateo brought a slight smile to your face, cheering up your bleak mood ever so slightly. If you’d told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d soon be dating your blanket… well, considering your track record with love, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.

You bit your lip, reaching over to the dateviators. You popped them on, blinking at the warm, pink hue that enveloped your vision. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to this. In a second, Betty had materialised in front of you, perched on the edge of the bed – or uh, on the edge of herself. She gave you a soft smile.

“How’re you feeling today, gorgeous?”

You made a face. “Well for starters, I don’t feel very gorgeous,” you reply groggily, sitting up as you wiped a hand over your tired face.

She chuckled. “Sweetie, you’re always gorgeous to me. But what’s got you so down? You barely slept last night, or the night before… should I be offended?” She was clearly joking, but there was a definite tone of concern in her voice.

“Nah, it’s not you, it’s me,” you admit, looking down at the sheets. “I just… I don’t know. I feel so… heavy? I’m so tired, all the time. Which makes no sense, let’s be real, I’m doing nothing all day but..” You trail off, unsure of how to word it. “I just can’t sleep though. I can’t relax. I feel so tense all the time and I don’t see a way out of it. Easier to just lay in bed, I guess,”

She looks at you, worry in her eyes. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. You try your best to force a smile.

“Not really. I think it’s just… something I have to deal with on my own,”

She frowned. “Honey, I don’t think-”

“I’ll see you tonight, Betty. Thanks for the talk,” you said quickly, standing up and heading to the bathroom, leaving Betty sitting on the bed, her face twisted in concern.

-------------

You’d spent most of the day dodging the other objects. Mateo especially. You just couldn’t bring yourself to talk to anyone right now. You left the dateviators on the table next to you, doom scrolling on your phone until the socially acceptable time to hit the hay. You were planning to go straight to bed, not call on anyone with the dateviators. The idea of bothering any of them, of forcing them to sit and listen to your silly problems was excruciating. But as you settled down into bed, trying in vain to close your eyes and let sleep come for you, there was only one thing on your mind.

You knew how upset Mateo would be if he knew you were avoiding him, especially if he knew it was because you weren’t feeling the greatest. Helping others is what drove him, it was the one thing he took pride in the most. He’d never let you wallow in your own self pity. You glanced at the glasses on your bedside table and sighed in defeat. You slid them on slowly.

You hadn’t even had them on for a few seconds before Mateo was materialising. You didn’t expect him to be right here, waiting for you. He was usually in the living room, caring for the inanimals. That man never took a break. When you saw the worried expression on his sweet face, you wanted to break down there and then.

“Ah mi vida, finally!” He said, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve been waiting for you all day,”

You flushed in embarrassment. So he’d been watching your pathetic display of self-loathing, huh? “Sorry, Mateo… I’ve just been, um, tired,” you said, avoiding his eyes. If there was anything in this world that could make you immediately spill all your darkest secrets, it was Mateo’s big, brown eyes.

“I’ve noticed… my love, I’m worried about you. Betty came to me earlier and told me you haven’t been sleeping. Is that true?” He asked tactfully.

“Betty said that?” Betrayal, you thought.

“She was worried. Honestly, a lot of us have been worried. You haven’t been acting like yourself for a while now. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you know you just have to ask, right? I would do anything for you,” he said, a small blush rising to his cheeks. “I mean, I’d hope you’d know that…”

You finally look at him, truly seeing the concern on his features. His bedhead was especially messy today, as though he’d been running his hand through it every five seconds. His usual easy smile was replaced with a small frown and you realised something. In that moment, you would do anything to see that smile again. As you were preoccupied with gazing into his eyes, Mateo took this opportunity to place his hand over yours. His touch was feather soft as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. You could almost feel your anxiety melting away.

You finally spoke.

“Mateo?”

“Yes, amor?”

“Could… could we cuddle?”

You ignore the burning in your cheeks and make your request, looking down at his hand still on yours. You focused on his touch. His touch seemed to make many things a whole lot easier.

At your words, a huge grin took over Mateo’s face. “You never even have to ask,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss onto the back of it.

You manoeuvred yourself so there would be room for Mateo beside you, turning so your back was towards him. He wasted no time in enveloping you in his arms, pulling you into the comforting warmth of his chest. His face snuggled into the crook of your neck and he took a deep breath in.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. The inanimals have missed you too…”

An arrow of guilt hit you right in the heart.

“I’m really sorry, ‘Teo… I-”

“You have no reason to be sorry, amor. Look, I can tell you’re struggling right now. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all, you have nothing to be ashamed about. But you have people around you that can help share your load, okay? You taught me that when we first met. When you bottle it all inside, it’s just too heavy for one person to handle. I want to help you. Please let me,”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You sniffled, wiping them away as quick as you could but they just kept coming. Mateo brought up the sleeve of his plush duvet jacket, wiping away the tears as they trickled down your face. You both said nothing. You laid there, wrapped up in Mateo’s arms, feeling more safe and secure than you had in a very long time. If Mateo was there to help you hold it, maybe things could be a lot lighter from now on.

#mateo manta #mateo manta x reader #date everything #date everything x reader #mateo manta imagine #date everything imagine #ty writes

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lucidrmss · 2 days ago

Text

extra credit. II 7.3k armin arlert x reader

cw: 18+ explicit content minors dni, nerdmin x baddie reader, reader insert but no use of y/n, unprotected sex, female pronouns/afab reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, nipple piercing, possessive armin, bit of dirty talk, bit of fluff. university/college au.

summary: No one saw it coming. Not your roommate. Not your on-and-off ex situationship. Not even the judgmental girl with a color-coded planner who’s clearly in love with him.

But somehow, the cardigan-wearing, note-taking, blushy boy wonder of your Comparative Politics class caught your attention. And that’s saying something, because you’re not exactly known for quiet crushes or gentle flirting — being a tattooed, sharp-tongued, braless baddie with a GPA just as high as your standards.

After a sketchy dude corners you at a party, Armin Arlert — the last person you expected — swoops in like a flannel-clad knight in awkward armor. That moment sparks a chaotic, and unexpectedly tender journey involving fake study sessions, thigh tattoos, jealous glances, and one painfully adorable nerd who may or may not be packing more than just a well-organized Google Drive.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. You’re not letting this one go.

notes: i'm here with part 2, longer and dirtier! a had to edit it all again that's why it took forever. hope u like it <3

<part I

You were totally going to be chill today.

The library dates have grown to you, you actually like to study, just know how to balance it with nights out. But this is comfortable, sharing opinions and having someone to actually listen to it, not with a surprised face like it's uncommon to wear short skirts and be able to develop intellectual opinions, but sharing deep conversations and with Armin, it's easy.

In fact, you could sit there and talk about how you custom-made a piece of clothing you thrifted last week and he'd look at you with his big, bright eyes as if you were describing how you accidentally discovered the cure for cancer.

So the study dates? is just a excuse to sit close and have him speak in that low voice to you. With your coffee, wearing your least intimidating crop top, you told yourself: Don’t flirt. don’t provoke. just study.

As you scan the library, you notice that everything is quiet, being it a friday afternoon. Or it was quiet, ‘cause you accidentally made eye contact with a damn Jean Kirstein who had the audacity to wink at you in front of Armin.

Look away, ignore it. Maybe he'll get the hit and don't be a menace for once in his lifetime. Is that asking for too much? the footsteps approaching your table 10 seconds later answered yes.

“Damn, babe. If I'd known study sessions with nerds made you this hot, I’d’ve volunteered months ago,” he says, teeth flashing as he leans on your library table like he owns it.

You glance up from your notes and deadpan, “if you knew how to read, Jean, maybe you’d be here for the actual material.”

Jean laughs — loud and easy, not offended in the slightest. “Always such a flirt. But hey, if the blondie here ever needs a break, I got room for a real tutor.”

You’re already mid-eye roll when you hear it.

“I think she’s fine with the one she has.”

Oh?

You blink, slowly.

Jean raises his brows, mock-innocent. “Whoa. Okay, Professor Armin. Relax.”

Armin doesn’t even look up. “Maybe don’t hit on people while they’re trying to learn.”

You wait for Armin to blush and backpedal like he always does. He doesn’t.

Instead, he adjusts his glasses, underlines something in your shared textbook, and leans a little closer to you. You feel his shoulder touch yours — light, intentional.

Your stomach flips.

Jean watches the interaction, then snorts. “Well, shit. Didn’t realize this was exclusive.”

Armin looks him dead in the eye.

“It is.”

Excuse you? You nearly knock your iced coffee over.

Jean lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. Nerd got game. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

When he walks off, you just stare at Armin.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “Just tired of guys thinking they can talk to you like that.” he sounds annoyed, eyes still focused on the open textbook but he looks distracted, jaw clenched, a vein popping out of his throat.

A quiet nerdy man who wears glasses and has a possessive agenda? You couldn't make that shit up, no even in your wildest dreams.

You’re quiet for a second. “You jealous, baby?”

Armin finally looks at you. Really look at you.

And for the first time since that almost-kiss, you see it again — the heat behind his eyes. The one that doesn’t match the shy smiles and physics flashcards. The one that makes you ache.

“I don’t like sharing” he murmurs.

Jesus Christ.

That got you shivering, shyly looking away. He just clears his throat and continues to read to you, like that moment didn't happen. Only his thigh touching yours under the table.

The thing about college parties is that they’re basically controlled chaos. Like, sure, someone brought Cards Against Humanity and another guy made jungle juice in a mop bucket — but it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

Especially when Armin shows up wearing that soft gray sweater that hugs his shoulders just right, and you remember why you bothered to come out in the first place.

You’re wearing all black again. Cropped halter. Knee-high platform boots. A leather jacket you definitely don’t need. He spots you across the room, fiddling with the rim of a red Solo cup, and you swear his whole face lights up. Soft-ass nerd, you think — fondly, stupidly, like some lovesick schoolgirl. The contrast between you two is kinda hot tho.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, out of breath from squeezing through the crowd. “You look…”

He trails off.

You arch an eyebrow. “I look?”

His mouth opens. Closes.

You step closer and smile with dangerous softness. “Use your words, baby.”

Armin turns redder than the Solo cup.

You live for this.

But before he can recover, Connie swoops in from nowhere and yells, “TRUTH OR DARE. IN MY ROOM. CIRCLE. NOW.”

Because apparently y'all twelve again.

The room's smelling faintly like weed, and cheap vodka, hot with so many people in the same place. You spot Mikasa laying on Coonie’s bed and Eren sitting on the desk chair, back to the rest of the room, but you can see him packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper. You sit next to Armin, obviously. His knee keeps brushing yours like he’s trying to pretend it’s an accident, even though it keeps happening every five seconds.

Across from you is Sasha (already tipsy), Connie (born tipsy), Jean (smirking, obviously), some random people you don't care enough to remember their name and— yep — Mina.

You don’t know if she’s glaring at you or having a stroke. Either way, you smile sweetly and lean a little more into Armin’s space.

“Alright, nerds,” Connie claps, vodka bottle in hand. “Never have I ever… slept with someone and forgot their name after.”

You hold up your cup and drink without blinking.

Armin chokes.

Everyone groans or giggles. Mina looks directly at your mouth like it offended her personally.

“Never have I ever… had a crush on someone in this room,” Sasha smirks.

Cue chaos.

Everyone makes eye contact with everyone. You sip. Jean chugs. Mikasa doesn’t flinch. Armin… lifts his cup. Sips.

You want to tease him — but the bottle spins.

Its Mina’s turn.

“Never have I ever made out with someone just to get a reaction out of someone else.” You sip again. So does Jean. but that's an old story, not even worth mentioning. You see the flicker in Armin’s jaw.

Connie, in a brilliant stroke of timing, takes things further off the rails.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a public place.”

You cackle.

Armin clears his throat.

And drinks.

What.

The room erupts.

“No. Absolutely not. Ain't no way Armin Arlert it's little freak, explain yourself,” Mikasa demands, nearly toppling over.

Armin just pushes his glasses up calmly. “Library study room. Sophomore year. After finals.”

You drop your jaw.

Mina visibly deflates .

“Was it with that girl with the septum and purple braids?” Connie asks.

“Nope,” Armin says.

“Who then?” Jean insists.

Armin shrugs. “You don’t know her.”

You… suddenly want to know everything about this alternate-universe Armin with secret kinks and perfect timing.

It spirals quickly after that.

Sasha drinks for “Never have I ever stolen a traffic cone.”

Connie drinks for “Never have I ever kissed a professor.”

Jean drinks for “Never have I ever hooked up with two people in the same friend group.”

Armin’s barely tipsy, his face is flushed in a beautiful way that compliments so well with his blonde hair it's actually making you kinda of feral. You’re dangerously close to asking if he’s faking this I've never felt the touch of a woman energy or if the universe just wanted to create a sex god with a resting shy face.

You're having fun, laughing at Mikasa and Connie bickering, watching as Eren joins the circle while passing a blunt over to Jean, feeling Armin's hand caressing your thigh, while you rest on his shoulders a little. Yet nothing can distract you from this feeling. Of being watched, getting your every move scrutinized. Everytime you meet her eyes, she raises her eyebrow. It's getting tiring.

Jealousy it's a ugly face, even on pretty girls like Mina Carolina.

Your patience snaps. your turn now.

While staring directly at her, you go for blood.

“Never have I ever lied about wanting to just study when what I really wanted was to jump someone’s bones.”

Connie screams, you hear Armin choking beside you.

You drink, watching her blush while also taking a sip.

The blonde man beside you hesitates for a second before also taking a big gulp. The world seems to stop when your eyes meet. Your lips parted as his ears got more red and his eyes glitter. Fucking glitter like when sunshine touches the ocean. Deep and blue and fucking breathtaking beautiful.

This motherfucker got you wanted to write poetry and draw hearts with your names.

It's time to admit you got it bad.

The moment ends with everyone groaning when Connie suddenly lurches forward.

“Oh— no, no, no—” Mikasa scrambles for a trash can, but it’s too late.

The carpet claims another victim. The game dies an honorable death.

Someone suggests a group selfie to immortalize the trauma. You all huddle together, flushed and sweaty.

Jean’s got devil horns on. Sasha’s holding a baguette she stole from the kitchen. Connie is barely conscious .

You feel Armin slide behind you — then his arm loops around your shoulders.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Your breath catches.

He’s smiling at the camera like it’s nothing. But his hand is resting right below your collarbone. His thumb brushing the skin under your necklace.

The photo flashes. Captures it all.

Later, when you check it on Sasha’s phone, you zoom in.

His smile is innocent.

Your smirk? Dangerous.

But it’s his hand that stays with you.

Because it’s not just possessive.

It’s not casual.

It’s a promise.

You don’t remember who suggested karaoke at 3:37 a.m., but they’re currently on their third dramatic rendition of “Toxic,” and Eren is screaming the harmony like his life depends on it.

The party has thinned. The carpet’s been cleaned (kinda). The last cup of decent alcohol is gone.

You’re sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water like it’s vodka. Armin’s next to you, arms around you — not a lot, but enough to make your heart overreact.

He looks like he shouldn’t fit here.

Too clean. Too sane. Too good.

But he does.

And then he looks at you and smiles, like you’ve just said something funny even though your last sentence was “I think Eren’s possessed.”

You grin.

—

“I still think Sasha won that game,” you say as you stumble slightly, the cold air slapping you sober.

“How?” Armin scoffs, holding his sweater tighter around his chest. “She didn't even drink for ‘never have I ever lied about being a virgin,’ which—statistically? Impossible.”

You laugh, shoving his arm. “She’s a legend. Respect her lore.”

You’re both walking slowly. The street is empty, dead-quiet except for the buzz of street lamps and the sound of your boots scuffing.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say when you two slow down in front of your dorm’s building, hands tucked in your jacket pockets.

“I wasn’t gonna let you walk back alone. You’re, like… not safe.”

You smirk. “You’re calling me unsafe?”

He looks at you with a sideways grin. “Yeah. But in a gremlin energy kind of way.”

“Wow. Armin Arlert. Student of the year. Secret library slut. Thinks I’m a gremlin.”

He laughs softly.

And then he looks at you like he’s thinking way too hard.

“What?” you nudge.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says.

“Like what?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You know. Loose. Silly. Kinda chaotic. Like… like a girl who doesn’t have a comeback every ten seconds or a death glare locked and loaded.”

You squint at him. “I am silly.”

“You’re terrifying ,” he deadpans. “In, like, a hot way. But terrifying.”

Your lips twitch.

“Okay, but real question,” you say, pausing by your dorm entrance. He stops one step down the stairs. “If I’m so scary in a hot way, how come you haven’t made a move yet?”

Armin blinks. “What?”

You step closer. The wind picks up behind you, lifting your hair over “You like me. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even Connie knows it, and Connie once failed a psych class he wasn’t even enrolled in.”

He licks his lips, looking absolutely flustered.

“So?” you press. “What gives? Why haven’t you just… caved in?”

He swallows. Hard.

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who wants you because everyone else does,” he says, voice low. “You get stared at. Talked about. People make up shit just to feel close to you. And I—” he moves forward “—wanted to be different.”

Your throat goes dry.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to kiss you,” he adds quickly. “I thought about it. A lot. More than I should.”

Your gaze drops to his mouth.

Then climbs back up.

“I want to do this right,” he says, softer. “Real dates. Not fake study sessions. Not hallway flirting or party games. Just… you and me. Trying to see what this could actually be.”

It's this what being with a Real Man looks like? you finally made it?

You don’t say anything, just grab his jacket, tug him up, and kiss him.

It’s short. Hot. Clumsy.

You laugh into his mouth when his glasses bump your forehead. He huffs a breathy laugh, presses one hand to your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to hold you tighter.

He is.

He will.

But tonight?

Tonight you pull away, lips tingling, breath shared.

“Okay, nerd,” you whisper. “You want a real date?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah.”

You lean in again, lips grazing his jaw. “Then ask me out before I ask you to stay the night.”

Armin blinks.

“... Will you go out with me?”

You grin.

“Depends. Does the date come with more kissing?”

He leans in close, the real him surfacing through the shy boy mask.

“All of it.”

You almost cancel.

You’re not the canceling type — more like the don’t catch feelings and flee when you do type — but still. For a hot second, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re really about to let Armin Arlert take you on a date.

Then you remember how he kissed you, how his hand curled around your waist like he meant it, how he whispered "all of it" with a look that made your knees consider retiring.

And you put on your damn jacket. Your phone pings with a text a second later.

>Armin: I'm here

He’s waiting outside your dorm, standing next to a bright blue car that absolutely does not belong to him.

“Connie’s,” he explains when you raise an eyebrow. “He owed me a favor. I helped him write a breakup email.”

You blink. “That’s… darkly romantic.”

“It had bullet points,” Armin says proudly.

He opens your door. Let you in first. Doesn’t try to play it cool — he’s nervous, you can feel it. The way he drums his fingers on the wheel, the way he sneaks glances at you at every red light.

You don’t speak much on the drive.

But you don’t need to.

Because when you get there — a retro arcade with neon lights, synth music playing inside, and a glowing sign that reads "Joystick Palace" — you laugh so hard you snort.

“An arcade?” you grin as you step out. “Really?”

“You said you like chaos,” he shrugs, locking the car. “And I like a fighting chance to beat you at something.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Inside, it’s loud and flashy.

You pass rows of claw machines, air hockey tables, and ancient DDR setups.

Armin pays for a loaded token card like a gentleman. You immediately waste ten tokens trying to win a vibrating duck keychain.

Armin wins it in one try. You hate him.

Next you two reach the Skee-Ball Showdown table.

“You have terrible form,” he says with a little laugh.

You roll your eyes. “Says the man in a corduroy jacket.”

“It’s fashion.”

“It’s a lie.”

He smirks, steps behind you, and gently adjusts your arms, breathing right beside your ear. “You gotta flick. Like this.”

You try again, and miss miserably. Armin takes a ball, flicks it with clinical precision, and lands a perfect 100.

You stare at him, deadpan. “Are you secretly a Skee-Ball assassin?”

“I had no friends in middle school,” he says simply.

You wheeze.

You finally beat him in a Zombie Apocalypse game. It's basically just gun shooting a bunch of very fast zombies. You know you did actually beat him ‘cause he's doing the face he usually does on the study sessions when he's very concentrated in something. Jaw locked, eyebrows furrowed, a little pout on his pink lips. It's so fucking hot.

When your screen says YOU WIN in all caps and colors and you scream, while flashing him your middle fingers. “ You're a fucking loser Arlert”

He just laughs and try to stop you screaming with a hand on your mouth “People are side eyeing you so hard right now” You could care less about other people when you are having fun with him

You’re both laughing too hard to function when you pile into a tiny photobooth that smells like plastic and popcorn.

“Wait—my hair—!”

“Too late—!”

The flash goes off just as Armin accidentally elbows you in the boob and you scream-laugh into his shoulder.

When the strip prints, you’re both wheezing.

1st pic: You blinking. Him wide-eyed.

2nd pic: You throwing up a peace sign. Him doing jazz hands.

3rd pic: You squished together, cheeks touching, laughing with your whole chest.

4th pic: Him looking at you. You looking back.

And something quiet in the middle of all the chaos.

You don’t say anything, just tuck the photo strip into your jacket with a shy smile and pretend your heart isn’t imploding.

——

The arcade has a crusty pizza lounge in the back. Sticky booths. Cheap soda. Grease stains that deserve forensic analysis. And yet, it’s perfect.

You sit across from him, legs touching under the table.

“So,” you say between bites. “Any reason you picked this place?”

He shrugs. “You’re loud. Competitive. Terrifying.”

“I will throw pepperoni at you.”

He grins. “And I wanted to see what you looked like when you’re having fun without trying to impress anyone.”

You pause, chewing slowly. “That's... dangerous, Armin.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You say stuff like that and I forget I’m supposed to be the one in control.”

He flushes pink, but doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want control,” he says. “I just want to know the real you. The girl who wins at claw machines. The girl who laughs like she doesn’t care. The girl who stole my hoodie three days ago and never gave it back.”

You grin.

“And what if I’m in love with you?” You weren’t supposed to say it out loud. But the words fall out before you can stop them, soft and simple and devastatingly true:

“I think I’m in love with you, Armin.”

You don’t look away, don’t take it back.

Armin stares for a second, like you just gave him a cheat code to life. Then he reaches across the table, hand covering yours, thumb tracing your knuckles. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you told a TA to suck your ass in lecture.”

You cackle loudly, the kid at the next table looks mildly traumatized.

But it’s fine, because Armin is still blushing and smiling and not even trying to hide it.

And you?

You’ve never felt more real.

——

The arcade’s closing now. The glowing neon signs flicker out one by one, and the last dregs of teenagers shuffle toward their rides, greasy paper cups and leftover tokens in their wake.

You and Armin walk back to the car, the buzz of the evening still crackling in your chest.

The laughter's quieter now. Everything is, like the night itself is holding its breath.

Armin unlocks the car, holds the passenger side door open for you — and maybe it's the way he looks at you in that hoodie, or the fact that his fingers keep brushing your waist, or the fact that he saw all of you tonight and didn't even flinch.

But whatever the reason—

You don’t get in the car. You don’t even think, just grab him by the front of that stupid corduroy jacket and kiss him like your life depends on it.

And he melts.

“Wait—” he says, breath hitching, “what—?”

“I’m done waiting,” you mutter. Then, with exactly zero shame, you shove him back into the driver’s seat and climb into his lap.

Straddle him. Close the door. Like a prize.

Like a goddamn throne.

“W-wow —holy sh—” His hands hesitate — just for a second — before gripping your hips tight, thumbs digging into the curve of your ass like he’s been dying to. His glasses fog. His mouth opens against yours, wet and hot and messy, and your bodies crash together like magnets misbehaving.

“Still think I’m scary?” you whisper, teeth and lips grazing his jaw, kissing down his delicious throat, nails scraping his undercut.

“Yes,” he gasps.

“Still like me?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

You rock your hips once — just once — and the breathy moan he lets out breaks you.

He’s flushed from collar to ears, fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you can feel him getting hard and you head is spinning from how deep he's kissing you, like he’s catching up for every second he didn’t.

Tongue deep. Hands firm. Lips bruising.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters into your mouth.

You grin against his lips, breath ragged, hands in his hair, tugging until he groans. just as you’re about to grind again — as the windows fog and your body trembles with too much clothes and not enough skin — A loud, sharp knock on the window.

You freeze. Armin freezes.

A woman’s voice — annoyed and nasally — slices the moment in two:

“There are children in this parking lot.”

You turn your head. A mom. A literal mom, holding a juice box and glaring like you just kicked a puppy.

You blink. Smile and wave politely.

Armin chokes on his soul. “I—I am so sorry—!”

You slide off his lap, giggling uncontrollably while he smacks his forehead against the steering wheel and mutters something about “crawling into the sun and staying there.”

The drive back to your dorm is a blur of laughter and blushing and your hand resting on his thigh like nothing happened.

He walks you to the door like a goddamn gentleman.

Hair’s a mess, lips are swollen. His glasses are still a little crooked. His hands keep twitching like he wants to grab you again.

And you? You’re a little more in love. It’s terrifying, really and somehow, it feels like freedom.

You lean against the doorframe. “Thanks for the date, nerd.”

“Thanks for hijacking it and almost getting us banned from an arcade.”

“Tell me you didn’t love it.”

“I loved it.”

You smile. He steps forward, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. Slow and soft.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, even in the poor light, his eyes shine.

“Not a chance,” you whisper. He grins, backing away.

You watch him walk off, hoodie riding up a little, hair practically bouncing, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s hiding a secret.

You wait until he’s gone.

Then you take out the photobooth strip.

And you post it to your story. No caption, just hearts and his @.

And for once, you don’t care who sees.

You can feel the hallway buzz before you even turn the corner. Phones clutched too tight. Whispered “oh my god that’s her”s. A heady mix of staring and pretending not to stare.

Which… okay. You did post that photo strip. You did let Armin hold your waist like a man who paid rent to be there. And yeah, your caption was literally just a heart, but that’s basically a marriage license in social media language.

So, you knew. But he didn’t.

You round the corner and spot him before he spots you. He’s standing by at locker, trying to act normal, wearing that dusty green hoodie you like and a pair of black jeans that absolutely weren’t tight until you noticed they were. His blonde hair, messy and softly curly at the end, are falling over his forehead. His ears are red.

He looks like someone who accidentally became an overnight meme. You sneak up behind him and poke his side.

He jumps. “—Oh my god, warn me!”

“Sorry,” you smirk. “You looked too approachable. I had to ruin it.”

He groans softly, leaning back against the metal locker. “I don’t know how you walk around like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… everyone’s looking at you.”

“They always look.”

“Yeah, but now they’re looking at me too. I got high-fived by like three dudes I’ve never even met. One of them said that I'm a ‘lucky bastard’, another one asked what shampoo you use. I dropped my bag.”

You try not to laugh, but his expression is so pained, so violated, that it slips out anyway.

“I feel like I accidentally joined a frat,” he mumbles.

Then, quieter:

“And I don’t like the way they talk about you.”

Your know what he means and don't like it too, but after having to deal with it alone, you've learned to ignore it.

He doesn’t look at you — just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage away the emotions. “Like you’re a trophy they lost to me. Like you’re something they didn’t win.”

Your voice softens. “And that bothers you?”

He finally looks up. “It bothers me that they talk about you like that. And yeah, I guess I’m jealous. But mostly? I just feel like they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re not a prize. You’re a person. Who happens to like me for some reason.”

You tilt your head. “I like you for so many reasons.”

“You’re gonna make me faint in the hallway.”

“Promise?” He laughs — real and shy and warm — and that’s all it takes. You link your arm through his and tug him toward the cafeteria.

The moment you step into the lunch area, the chaos hits.

Mikasa waves you over. Connie yells “Power couple alert!” like a town crier. Eren whistles loudly like a proud Dad who's watching his son score a goal playing soccer. Jean does finger guns. Sasha is halfway through a croissant and still manages to shout “FUCK SOFT LAUCHING, THAT'S QUEEN BEHAVIOR RIGHT HERE LADYS AND GENTLEMEN.”

You sit, Armin hesitates. Then squeezes in beside you like he’s bracing for impact. And for the first few minutes, it’s a tornado of teasing and food stealing and Sasha throwing paper napkins at Connie’s head. But eventually, everything softens.

Mikasa slides a tray in front of Armin without asking. “You didn’t eat yet. I know.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Miki.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That your other girlfriend?”

Mikasa deadpans. “Only if he passes the final this time.”

“I—I’m studying!”

You lean into him. “I’ll quiz you later.”

Jean snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You throw a grape at his face. But Armin’s laughing again, shoulders easing down inch by inch, as the table noise wraps around him like a safety blanket. For all their chaos, this group is home. And when his hand brushes yours under the table, you squeeze it. Soft. Sure. Grounded.

Because yeah, people are talking. People are always going to talk.

But at the end of the day?

It’s just you and him, and that’s more than enough.

——

You’re slipping your headphones in, fingers already fumbling for your lighter and gum at the bottom of your bag, when you hear someone say your name.

You look up.

It’s Mina. Alone this time, no textbooks hugging her chest like a shield, no fake smile plastered on. Just her — big cardigan, soft eyes, and that slightly awkward energy that used to make you roll your eyes. But today, it doesn’t hit the same.

You tug one earbud out. “Hey.”

There’s a pause. A big one. The kind that stretches out like taffy and begs to be cut clean.

“I just…” Mina begins, eyes flicking somewhere past your shoulder. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I ever made you feel weird. Or like I was… trying to compete. That wasn’t my intention.”

You shrug. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I kinda did,” she says. “You were never cruel. And I might’ve been quietly hoping you’d disappear for, like, a week or two.”

You snort. “Just a week?”

Mina smiles, a little. “Okay. Maybe a month.” You both laugh, short but real.

Then you say, “He likes you, y’know. As a friend. A lot.”

“I know,” she nods. “And you’re… something else entirely. Which I guess is what he needs now.”

You hum. “I didn’t plan any of it.”

“I know that too.”

Another pause. More gentle this time.

“You look happy, though,” she says. “He does too.”

You nod. “I am. And he is.”

“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”

You both glance toward the buildings across the quad, like you’re searching for the next thing to say — but there isn’t one.

Just a nod.

A quiet, simple goodbye.

You turn and walk your separate ways.

Not friends. Not enemies.

Just two girls who grew up a little.

———

Armin’s dorm smells like cotton detergent and anxiety.

You’re barely past the threshold when your eyes land on his desk: two mugs, one with a tea bag tag still hanging off, and a notebook open to the densest study notes you’ve ever seen. There’s highlighter color-coding like he’s about to present a thesis, not cram for a final.

And then there’s Armin — already flustered, running a hand through that fluffy blond hair, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and joggers like the unintentional thirst trap he is.

“So… you made it,” he says, nervous smile blooming.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you toss back casually, setting your bag down and peeling off your hoodie to reveal your usual black tank top. His gaze drops instantly to the curve of your collarbone. Then lower.

You pretend not to notice.

He clears his throat. “Uh, tea or water?”

“Tea makes me feel like a Victorian child with tuberculosis. Got soda?”

“…Water it is.”

You snicker and flop onto his bed without permission, legs crossed, and fumble for your notes — not that you’re going to use them.

“I ran into Mina on the way here,” you mention offhandedly.

Armin pauses mid-pour. “Oh.”

You nod. “She was cool. Said some nice things, actually.”

His eyes meet yours cautiously. “You’re not… mad at her or anything, right?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “She’s sweet. Just had a crush and a little passive-aggressive attitude. It happens.”

He nods slowly, sets the water down on his desk. “You’re handling this really maturely.”

“Trying to impress someone,” you shrug, giving him a sly smile. That earns you a blush. Bright and adorable.

You both try to study for maybe twenty whole minutes. He sits at the desk; you sit cross-legged on the bed, actually reading the damn thing, until you catch him looking at your thigh tattoo for the fourth time.

It’s a Medusa, coiled and dark, peeking out from the hem of your shorts like it’s daring him to say something.

You stretch slowly, just to watch his eyes darken.

“Problem, professor?” you ask, voice low and teasing.

“I—no. I just… I didn’t realize it was that detailed.”

You smirk. “You could see it up close, y’know. If you asked nicely.”

He looks like he might short-circuit on the spot.

So you rise, slow and deliberate, walking over to his desk, taking the pencil out of his hand and placing it down. Then — as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — you straddle his lap, knees on either side, hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t focus,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “Me either.”

And then you kiss him.

Hard and messy.

There’s nothing slow about it — not this time. This isn’t the photobooth or the moment outside your dorm. This is heat and need and weeks of pent-up tension burning through both of you.

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him already half-hard under you. You grind down, and his head falls back with a low, helpless noise that shoots straight through you.

Your lips leave him only to trail down his jaw, to the base of his neck, biting gently just to hear him gasp. He says your name like it’s a prayer. A warning. A plea. then he touches the strap of your tank top.

“Can I—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Take it off.”

He does, slow like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His hands tremble a little, but his eyes never leave yours. Then they drop — to your pierced chest — and he exhales like he’s been sucker-punched.

“Holy shit.”

You grin. “You like it?”

He answers by taking one nipple into his mouth, gently at first, then with more confidence as your fingers tangle in his hair. His tongue flicks over the piercing leaving a gentle bite, and you whimper.

Teasing until you can’t take it anymore — his shirt needs to go. You tug it off him and toss it somewhere behind, letting your nails drag down his pale chest. You just knew he would be the sleep builder type, abs muscles marked by soft lines, his peck with cute pink nipples, skin shivering.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, and your heart stutters.

You grind again, harder, and this time his hands grip your ass, guiding you. The friction is blinding. You’re soaked through your panties, and judging by how hard he is now, he’s not far behind.

“Fuck,” you whisper, breathless. “I want to taste you.” He stares, stunned, as you slide down to your knees in front of the desk chair, eyes locked on his.

“You don’t have to—”

You shut him up by dragging your tongue along his length through the fabric of his joggers, and he just chokes.

By the time you free him from his boxers, he’s flushed, panting, already leaking at the tip. You lick a slow circle around it before sinking down, taking him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“God—” His hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding. His hips twitch as you hollow your cheeks, letting your tongue swirl. He looks like he’s trying not to scream, red from chest to cheeks, eyes a little dazed, shaking a little by the time you pull off, still hard and dripping, and you crawl back up, tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You good?” he asks, breathless.

You grin, guiding his hand between your legs, letting him feel how wet you are, and then bring to your mouth and suck his fingers clean.

His jaw drops. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No, baby,” you whisper. “I’m going to ride you.”

You sink down onto him slowly, both of you moaning, your thighs trembling from the stretch and the sheer fucking emotion of it all. He fills you perfectly. Like you were made for him.

You move slowly at first, circling your hips, watching him fall apart beneath you.

“—fuck, you feel— -uhgg” Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pick up the pace. His hands are on your waist, your thighs, your ass — anywhere he can touch, he eyes your tits as they bounce slightly like he's hypnotized, groaning like he can't handle it and goes back to sucking on it again.

You ride him until you're shaking, grinding your hips and biting your lips. The knot inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

But Armin’s not done.

He carries you to bed, laying you like you're made of glass, take off his glasses, and kisses you like he’s starved. You're a moaning mess, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgams. He kisses down your throat, the vale between your tits, your stomach and when his head is between your legs he looks up at you, big blue eyes you know and love, but with a little wild in it, “Pussy so fucking pretty, bet she can cream for me again.” He gives you a long lick, then a cute little kiss.

“Minnn” you whimper, hands holding the sheets tightly.

“Taste so good, smells amazing, looks so fucking pretty,” his words make you dizzy, its hard to process that sweet Armin who still blushes when you hold his hand, is the same man that its climbing up to rest his forehead against yours and saying with a smirk: “You're a perfect little thing, ain't you? And that's all for me? Huh?”

You nod whimpering his name as he slides back in, thrusting slow and deep, holding your face, eyes locked, sucking your lips lazily. Until you bite his lips back, gripping him inside you. That's when something in his eyes darkens.

Suddenly, he's so close you wouldn't know where one of you starts and the other ends. Bodys sweating, chest to chest, one arm around your lower back as the other hold you head, finger griping your hair, legs locking on his waist as he fucks you fast and hard, sometimes mumbling incoherently, sometimes dirty shit you could never imagine spitting out of his mouth.

He tells you how long he’s wanted this.

How many times he’s thought about bending you over a desk, study sessions be dammed.

How good you look taking all of him.

He's fucking whimpering in your ear.

Vision whitening, your eyes roll to the back of your head, toes curling, nails gripping his back, mouth open on a silent scream. Even the noise the bed frame is making while hitting the wall gets turned down. All you could hear it's him . Feel him, just making you take it. No space to run.

“You’re mine,” he whimpered, eyes glazed tugging on your earlobes with teeth, it's all too much “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum”

His hand, the one on your lower back, snakes between your legs and he begins to circle your clit, making your body lock, pussy gripping so hard he makes a cute painful face, slamming one last time and letting out a pretty broken moan, your body shaking as he fill you up. Nice and warm.

The moment seems to linger, his arms around you, two hearts beating fast, breaths hard, your sanity coming back.

You just had the best fuck of your life with the Armin Arlert, the campus adorable nerd, and open your eyes to see his dorm room, crumpled with books, cute figures and wall with Star Wars posters.

“If I knew your dick game was this good, I would've fucked you sooner” Armin giggles. Fucking giggles into your ear like he didn't just railed you so good it ruined you to everybody else.

“And the dirty talk? ” you say and he whines embarrassed.

Armin’s face emerges from your neck, flushy with wet hair clinging onto his forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” You shift, and he gently slips out of you, grabbing a towel from the desk drawer — probably prepped days ago with overly optimistic hope. It’s soft, and he cleans you carefully, like you’re something precious.

He tosses it into the laundry after, climbs back into bed after putting on a boxer with a shy smile, gives you a clean t-shirt then when you're done, pulls you into his arms without hesitation.

You melt into him.

“Stay,” he says softly, voice muffled in your messy hair. “Don’t leave yet.”

You nestle closer. “I wasn’t planning on it.” And just like that, you sleep.

——

You wake up tangled in warmth.

There’s light creeping through the blinds, golden and soft. Armin’s arms are still around you, one hand tucked under your (his) shirt — possessive and sweet. He’s snoring, faintly. His hair is a mess.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment, heart full.

And then, like a wave crashing over you:

Holy shit, you love him.

You love the dumb way he looks at you, all big eyes and sweet smiles. You love his nervous hands. His annotated study guides. The way he tastes when he kisses you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You love Armin .

He stirs as you shift slightly, blinking himself awake.

“…Hi,” he says, voice still gravelly.

“Hi.”

“You okay?” he whispers into your hair, fingers brushing over your thigh tattoo again — featherlight and curious, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Mhm,” you murmur. “More than.”

He shifts just enough to look at you, his blue eyes sleepy and searching. “Not sore?”

You snort. “Armin, you fucked me like you’ve got something to prove.”

“I do,” he says, so seriously that you laugh.

“You win, baby. Gold star. Five out of five. Would let you destroy me again.”

His cheeks go crimson. “That’s not— I mean, I didn’t want to go too hard—”

“Shhh,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throat. “You were perfect. Actually…”

You roll to your back and stretch, wincing dramatically. “I think you might’ve ruined me for literally anyone else.”

That makes his entire body go still.

Then—

“Good,” he mumbles, pulling the blanket over both of you. “'cus you’re mine.” He doesn't say it like a joke or a challenge. Just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

You blink up at him, heart skipping. “Yours?”

Armin’s eyes flick down to yours. He nods. “Unless… that was just a one-time thing for you?”

You frown instantly. “What? No. Of course not. I—Armin, you know it’s not like that.”

He nods again. “Okay. I just— I’m not used to this. Having someone. Like this. You’re…” He exhales. “You mean a lot to me.”

Your chest tightens. You lean in and kiss him slow, one hand cupping his face.

When you pull away, you say, “You’re my person, Armin.”

He smiles, not that flustered little curve you used to get — this one is full. Confident. A little smug. “So I guess that makes me your boyfriend?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Guess?”

“Okay,” he amends. “That makes me your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head. “Say it again.”

He leans in, kisses your nose. “Boyfriend.”

You grin. “Girlfriend.”

“Mine.”

“You are. Mine.”

You let the moment linger — sweet and weightless — then raise a brow. “So... what are the girlfriend benefits, exactly? Am I getting snacks? Back rubs? Photo booth printouts in your wallet?”

“You already got extra credit,” he smirks, dragging a hand down your bare back. “What more do you want?”

You fake gasp, hitting his arm.

Armin chuckles, burying his face into your neck. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you love it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, gaze tender. “I really do.” he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s known it longer than he’s known anything.

You kiss him, slow and sure.

No rush this time, just your heart in his hands, and his smile against your lips.

#armin x reader #aot x reader #x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x you #armin smut #armin fluff #morden au #attack on titan x reader

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theladybrownstarot · 20 hours ago

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𝜗𝜚 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ?

|𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ִֶָ |𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ִֶָ |𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 ִֶָ |

|𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ִֶָ |

HOW TO PICK A PILE ? Take a deep breathe , close your eyes after your open them up choose the pile where your sight goes first in calming inner silence . If you are called up by more than one pile you please feel free to choose them.

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

The month of July is going to be about forgiveness and acceptance. You may let go of some opportunities you waited for because they didn't turn out to be as expected. You are moving towards those choices that are aligned with your plan. I can see that you are becoming more spiritual than a material person. Basically, you have realized yourself and your goals, which won't let you take choices that are less for you or do not support your long-term plan. I can see some long travel this month; some people may leave their home. The energy of this month for you is very still because you are calm and controlled, almost like a siren. This is a good month to do charity also. The theme of this month is more self-reflection and searching for higher emotional ground, understanding them. You are developing inner strength. You will be lifting many heavy karmic energies. There is a divine plan for you, which you are following, so do not fear or get scared if things do not go your way. I can see Gemini energy, which can indicate that there could be the possibility of it having misunderstandings this month or being delusional too. Something from your past will be repeated. For monthly messages, it is coming that there is an old pattern rising up in you, and it's time to deal with it and release it for good. You know what you need to do, so don't delay it any further. What you need is courage and one step at a time. Also, don't let yourself feel unloved. Trust your intuition. Be assorted because you are ready for the great miracles of this month because divine trust you at the same time thatyou think that you may continue what was started in July within the next few months.

🌸Here's my link to personalised readings - link

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

In the month of July for pile number 2, you people will need to make a decision between what you love and what is your priority, but how you will make this decision will depend completely upon you. Some people may need to make specific decisions regarding their love life or with any current person they are with right now. This is an ethical decision that needs to be made. It is possible for a few people to meet someone romantically this month. You will need to take care of your routine this month because I see anxiety over some things, which could possibly result in you having bad sleeping patterns as an effect. There could be a period of tension, but anyhow, you will come out of it successfully ending another cycle of karma or karmic cycle. You people may go through some Venus transit or Venus dasha. For Oracle guidance, look beyond your current situation, raise your vibration, focus on love, and always remember that where your eyes cannot see, your heart will definitely see it. Don't allow your ego or doubt to play games with you; just stay calm and keep your eyes open towards what you want. You people may start tarot readings or any occult studies too. I sense here that people may connect with some spirits, basically a beyond-human-comprehension type of thing. You may have to face a major downfall, and this will lead you to interact with them. Listen to and believe in your intuition. No matter what happens, there is always a peaceful solution for everything. Some of your expectations might not be fulfilled, which is only to protect you.

🌸 Here's my link to personalised readings - link.

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

From what I am getting, somebody will betray you this month, and I feel that you know who this person is, so trust your intuition. People may act against you out of jealousy, hatred, envy, aggression, or retaliation. You will definitely grow up this month, but you need to keep your eyes on the people because they will definitely try to bring you down, but anyhow, you will get them back down out of revenge. Whoever this person is, they are younger than you. You are someone of importance; remember that. Do not overthink this month, and keep your hopes high. Apart from this, the month will go by connecting with your inner child, healing your trauma, and understanding your feelings. You will daydream a lot this month. This is childlike energy here. You can expect some romantic confession this month through someone. Allow your creativity to surface. You're definitely going to make some major decisions this month regarding your life, like you are going to change everything, but of course, as I said, you will rise, but people will try to get you down, so you need to protect your energy and trust your intuition. There is a possibility you may get sick this month, but you will improve. This is a perfect time to start something, but you need to look for some sign, which is the sort of protection too from negative energies. Don't rush; just follow the signs by asking God.

🌸Here's my link to personalised readings - link .

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

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clfixationstation · 3 days ago

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ngl I cannot bring myself to agree with the "Catra's redemption was rushed" crowd, whether they like the show overall or not. Perhaps I have a different view of redemption than most. To me, a redemption arc begins when a character experiences guilt and remorse for their actions, which Catra expresses in early season 4 when she has a nightmare about how she threw Entrapta under the bus and activated the portal. Catra's nightmare shows her images of Entrapta and Adora questioning her, placing the onus for her actions on her: "What did you do to me?" "Why did you do it?"

Derailing: Why did she do it? Not because Adora made her. Catra can't use that excuse anymore. "Why did you do it?" Adora also asked Catra this as a child (s5ep3 Corridors) after she hit Lonnie. Back then, it was because Catra was terrified of losing Adora's friendship and thereby being "discarded" by Shadow Weaver. She was scared for her life. But now? Catra didn't activate the portal for safety; she did it to win. She did it to prove to the world she could be victorious, to Shadow Weaver, Hordak, Adora, to everyone who refused to believe in her. Yet after pulling that lever, Catra's true desires were revealed; she wanted to be relatively safe, surrounded by friends, allowed to love Adora, and recognized for her worth. She didn't need to dominate. When that false reality shattered, Catra's hope was shattered with it. She fell back on her sense of injustice, reduced to her own agony, inflicting it upon the world and herself. After the portal, Catra had to face that her goal of ascending through the Horde was hollow.

One could even argue Catra feels regret at the end of season 3 with this look she gives Adora of "ohhh I fucked up, I fucked up big time." Catra looks sickened, with herself and with how Adora now sees her.

From this point in the story, it was blatant to me that Catra was headed for redemption. Catra clearly knows that she went too far and may have completely burned every bridge and ruined all hope of redemption. But she can't yet confront that her ambitions will not fulfill her. So, she doubles down. In classic sunk-cost fallacy fashion, Catra seemingly strengthens her allegiance to the Horde, taking control and commanding operations. Despite herself, Catra's guilt creeps up on her, not only through the nightmare but also in her approach to Adora. Unlike in s1-3, throughout season 4 Catra avoids Adora almost entirely, only engaging from afar. Catra evades confronting the amount of pain she's caused Adora, the seemingly irreparable chasm she's clawed between them, focusing solely on strengthening the Horde. She still cares, but she denies herself that regular interaction.

This suppression poisons Catra's fragile friendship with Scorpia as well. Catra continually lashes out at Scorpia, projecting her own insecurities and frustrations onto her. Her behavior pushes Scorpia away and causes her to leave the Horde, to leave Catra. This is the first time someone left because of her. It almost feels like self-sabotage, Catra pushing Scorpia more and more, becoming crueler, creating reason for her to defect. Catra doesn't feel worthy of Scorpia's friendship, of anyone's. And so Scorpia's kindness enrages her, reminds her of how far she's fallen, and how much lower she will go. Catra also lashes out at her former comrades, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle, further isolating herself from anyone who cares about her, pinning her entire existence on proving herself through Horde victory. She failed in the friendship department; the Horde is all she has left.

But Catra can't fool herself forever, and she certainly couldn't fool Double Trouble. After defeating Hordak, who does Catra have left to prove herself to? Horde Prime? Herself? Neither of those people care. For the first time, Catra is completely alone, and Double Trouble doesn't let Catra hide from how she got there. They read Catra to filth, summarizing what I wrote above: Catra pushed all her friends away in pursuit of a villainous role she didn't desire; her heart laid elsewhere. Now both goals are in ruins. Depleted, with nothing left to prove, Catra asks Glimmer to kill her. Catra's guilt permeated season 4, seeping into all her relationships and degrading her mental state. But guilt is meaningless without action. Which brings us to season 5.

I got soooo off track, so I'll try to wrap it up. So yes, Catra's redemption arc started in s3/4 when she first felt remorse for her actions - not in season 5. Even then, her change took time to develop. Initially, Catra still tried to align herself with Prime, but convinced him to spare Glimmer, indicating her shifting allegiance. The girls begin to empathize with each other and Catra sees how much Glimmer cares for Adora and the life Adora has built for herself. Fully expecting to die, Catra chooses to throw away the small amount of favor she earned with Prime and save Glimmer, therefore protecting Adora. Catra apologizes to Adora for everything. Her body is stolen from her and she dies as a consequence of her actions. She's revived and chooses to join the Rebellion. She slips up but genuinely tries to make amends, not for her own conscience but because it's right. She wants to do better. She accepts ire from the Princesses without retaliation. She defends Adora from Shadow Weaver. She gives Adora the strength to choose to live and allow herself to desire, and together they save the world.

This redemption is not immediate. It was given time, the foundation established across seasons. Catra does not have a sudden change of heart. It builds gradually, even within the final season. Nothing about Catra's arc was rushed and nothing about it was easy. Each day, she fought the harmful instincts cemented in her from years of abuse to become a better person, experiencing realistic regression and growth. Catra was tormented by others and herself for her entire life and all it did was make her worse. She deserves a soft universe, the new world she and Adora created together

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tismchasm · 2 days ago

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Thinking about the implications of Rouxls being the rules card and what that means for his mental state and the way he acts after being “abandoned” by the lightners. Spoiler free for chapters 2 3 and 4, just a long post.

In any card game, the other cards interact with each other, play off each other, and are used by the player. But the Rules Card? That doesn’t really interact with other cards. If anything, the player interacts with the card, then uses that information to interact with the regular cards. It’s always one degree of separation away from the other cards.

I would imagine this heavily influences how Rouxls acts. He’s desperate and “grateful” for any attention, (fully committing once he thinks he gets someone he can hang onto). Makes sense- people usually memorize the rules and don’t check them again after the first time. So he’d be attention starved right off the bat. His existence as the rules is so dependent on other beings: not only does he need a player to do anything, as it is his main purpose, he needs a set to be attached to.

In other words, a complete deck of cards on its own is still pretty valuable as long as you know some games to play, or you can hand it off to a friend.

The rules card has to come with a set of cards. Useless on its own (which would explain why he keep chasing after bosses. He needs a set, some kind of game to even be considered moderately useful), and it needs the full set or the rules don’t work. And if he isn’t considering as powerful in the set, nobody will obey his rules.

I honestly think he was probably a lot more relaxed before the knight put the other kings in jail. Several other sets to attend to, he had options. But when there’s just one, (King Spade), his desperation makes sense. If he falls out of favor with the last king, he’s worthless. There would be nobody to apply the rules to, because he’d be out of a position of power.

TL;DR: Is Rouxls power hungry? Yes but he has a reason because of the real-world object he’s formed from. (Also more touch starved and attention starved Rouxls content please)

#spoiler free #roulxs kaard #txt #tismqueuesm #deltarune #kingkaard #< if you squint #king of spades #king spade #king deltarune

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thursfys · 1 day ago

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Ok ok so I have some personal headcanons bout Eddie and Volt along with their interactions with the homeowner/you I have to share otherwise I will explode-

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Volt

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I'm probably reaching here but along with the obvious Frankensteins monster and Jekyll and Hyde theming, I've noticed Volt has a bit of vampire coding? That pale and almost unnatural, otherworldly beauty he possess and that cheeky, effervescent charm kinda tipped me into the vampire camp for him. Also, it makes the funny energy vampire joke so yeah.

His ears are pointed at the tip and he has a killer set of fangs to boot; his left (forward perspective right) one is slightly longer than it should be and peaks out a tad when smirking, even without a full toothy smile.

Playing more off of that, I think Volt can absorb or even pass on some extra electricity to Eddie if the need arises. Ed having some nervous jitters from an excess amount of power? Walk over and bite him to siphon it off! Ed feeling worn out and drained? Walk over and bite him to give him some energy! Volt doesn't do it that often as Eddie is exceptionally stubborn (+ embarrassed) and will tuck his head into his neck and flare the collar of his shirt to prevent the loving nibbles. He knows he can't pass any power to you without, ahem, dire consequences, but he still gives occasional nibbles as a show of affection.

On a different note, you know how he turns blue when pissed off in the their hate ending? I don't think it stops just there, nonono, I think Volt can go full on supernova glow stick if you fully managed to unleash his wrath. The only reason he probably didn't go full concentrated power of the sun mode was out of grief and self control. If something were to happen to both Eddie and you, well, I don't think it'd end well for whoever or whatever hurt you both. (This was inspired by that one meme of the glowing dude sitting in a diner-)

Now that you're part of the couples lives, that overprotectiveness that Volt feels for Eddie has been doubled and passed over to you too. Any shenanigans around the house that the other inhabitants might involve you with are under supervision of Volt and Eddie, but mostly Volt. He follows from room to room through the wires, carefully observing interactions with those he knows are trouble incarnate like the Hanks or Scandalabra. If he sees any form on discomfort etch itself across your face, the lights in the room flicker violently and dangerously; the bulbs rattle like the tail of a viper and the conductive wiring glow red hot as a warning to the offending object.

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Eddie

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Again reaching really far for this, but I think he used to look more like Volt before he made him. Still himself but maybe longer hair, with more streaks of white hair that resembled Volts. I guess a better way to describe it would be that the ends of Eddies hair as it is now used to have Volts hair at the end. V has always been there but I think it's not just in a metaphorical sense but physical as well.

Even though the wire is fixed now, he still has a habit of rubbing the part of his chest where it is. He can't say if it's because he was so used to it's ache that he still traces the spot or from a deep, unfounded anxiety that it could come back. He'll paw at the spot if he's starting to feel overwhelmed and overworked, it'll be one of his only tells that he's fraying himself.

Eddie gifted Volt his copper bracelets as a way to ask him out and gifted a small set of rings to the homeowner as a symbol of his love for them too. I think he enjoys metal working even with the pain he feels in his hands and wrists from his arthritis, bending and twisting the copper into beautiful shapes. Some of the other objects noticed the rings on your fingers and now Eddie has a side hustle much to his chagrin (he enjoys it but some of the requests made are so ridiculous it makes him want to toss a bar of metal at em)

Again on the overprotectiveness, Eddie can be just as bad as Volt but instead of watching and waiting, Ed will book it from the Breaker Box to snatch you up and escort you back to your room. The vicious side eye he gives the offending dateable as he walks away with you tucked away in his arms is enough to drop the temperature in the room by 10 degrees (he and Hector have an agreement-)

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Both <3

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This is a more bit of a self serving hc, but I think Eddie has the better singing voice between the two while Volt is the dancer. Eddie's singing voice is a touch deeper than his speaking voice, that chest deep rumble translating to a gorgeous serenade that is reserved for you and Volt alone, despite begging him to perform for the club. Volt on the other hand is as graceful as a professional ballerina and just as flexible too, moving as swiftly as a bolt of lightning.

Volt, unfortunately, is just as tone deaf as Johnny Splash, causing him to feel a kindred connection to the poor shower which is why he's still allowed into the Breaker Box. Though Eddie has put his foot down slightly and limited Johnny's "performances" to 3-4 times a week.

Eddie has two left feet and can't dance even when putting in a proper effort; last time he tried he managed to trip himself up and smashed his head against one of the tables. The bar was closed for 2 days for him to recover physically and emotionally.

They've also taken to sponsoring Beverly's bar to help her get some more traffic from the upstairs inhabitants, and in turn she has taken to supplying drinks part time or even taking over the bar temporarily whenever Eddie is out of commission (ie strapped to their shared bed and forced to relax for the night)

Volt has taken up a bit of Eddie's workaholic nature now that he's being forced to relax, nearly pushing himself to exhaustion some nights and having to be forcefully dragged to bed like a grumpy toddler by you. The best way to keep either of them from trying to get up to open the bar is to lay on em, whether it be you or one another, the warmth and pressure keeps the complaints to a minimum and prevents them for working themselves to the wire.

Lastly I think they have decent friendships with all the objects that rely on their shared power, except Freddy (drains a lot of their power but he tries to make it up to them with snacks) and Lux (keeps turning himself and his lamps on at night to "enhance" his live streams, Eddie is contemplating unplugging all of them and locking em up in the Breaker Box storage closet). They tried to have a conversation with Lux about it but had to cut it short before either of them blew a fuse from anger, Eddie moreso than Volt.

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That's my brain rot for the night, I hope y'all enjoy it!

//DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR GENERATIVE AI I WILL THROW HANDS//

#date everything spoilers #date everything #date everything x reader #date everything x you #date everything eddie #date everything volt #date everything eddie x reader #date everything volt x reader #eddie x volt #thurs musings #im rotating these two in my brain at hyperspeed #i love them both so muchhhhhh ;0;)#this is the first time ive actually finished writing AND POSTED character headcanons #so this is entirely new territory

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xechu · 2 days ago

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[Honor & Vengeance] S. Geto - 夏油傑

Pairing: general!suguru x fem!reader Word Count: 11.6k Series Warnings: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, depiction of gore and violence, mature themes Chapter Warnings: mature themes, emotional angst, description of violence, childhood emotional abuse and trauma, suicidal thoughts, death, grief, description of injuries - please read with care Tags: historical au, non-curse au, marriage of convenience, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: Yu Haibara—Suguru’s right-hand man and childhood best friend—recounts the rise and fall of House Geto, and the oath that bound them together. Suguru's ambitions are revealed, and King Sato had summoned him in private to task him with a secret mission. While all seems calm within the Geto Estate, unresolved issues from the Eastern Campsite continue to fester. a/n: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though it's a bit emotionally heavy. I never expected to write a whole chapter in (mostly) Haibara's POV, but he's easily becoming one of my favorite characters in this series. Also, for clarification in this chapter "sworn kin" = godchild. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading! x

Master List: << chapter 5 || chapter 7 (tbc) >>

[Chapter 6]: All-Seeing Advisor

Yu Haibara was the official advisor of House Geto and Suguru’s right-hand man.

One would think that he was constantly shadowed by the Conqueror of Stars, but fear not! For the All-Seeing Advisor was brilliant in his own ways, and a palace court favorite too, particularly among the female servants.

Ah. The tragedy of being the keeper of many beautiful women’s hearts, and by beautiful, he meant the kind who smiled freely and laughed with their whole heart. And if they didn’t? Well, there’s beauty in the quiet mystique as well. And dare he say, even more alluring?

But by no means was he a womanizer!

No. Never.

More like a painting if he might humbly suggest. Destined to only be admired from afar. After all, being his best friend’s right-hand man was already enough—his life’s purpose.

The two arrived at the palace earlier this morning to relay further details of the incident at the Eastern Campsite. It was an unusual request, though not entirely unheard of, but Sato had asked for a private audience with Suguru. There was a special task that he needed to assign to his general, which was how Haibara currently found himself waiting alone in an empty corridor.

In the silence, Haibara couldn’t help but reflect on the current predicament back home.

On the surface, everything at the Geto Estate seemed status quo, but underneath, it was anything but—like a simmering volcano ready to erupt without warning. The silence was more deafening than any scream.

It had been two weeks since everyone returned, but ever since, you had confined yourself in the guest house. Yumi was the only connection between you and the rest of the world.

“How is she?” Haibara asked Yumi in passing.

“Our Lady is recovering steadily.”

As usual, Yumi’s answers were always short and lacked explanation. Of course, he was relieved to hear you were recovering. But her words were underspoken, because he knew the wound on your hand wasn't the only wound that required tending to: it was the one inside your heart, undoubtedly still bleeding and perhaps even more severe.

Everyone had seen it that day, how Suguru leapt to Ayaka’s defense. It may have seemed noble, even loyal. But it was also revealing. Because if a man truly loved his wife the way Suguru so convincingly appeared to, his first instinct would have been to protect you. Even if it meant treason. Even if it meant death.

Lord Shinjiro would have protected Lady Sumire—even at the cost of the King.

“Master Haibara… if I may,” Yumi said softly. “I know it is not in my place to say such things, but it pains me to watch my Lady wither away like this…”

She didn’t even have to explain the details for dread to weigh in the pit of his stomach.

“I hope Geto-sama can understand how much this cost her. My Lady is beloved by many, and also has many hobbies. She can no longer write to her father, nor ride a horse properly—and most of all, she may never pick up a sword again.

“Surely, Geto-sama must understand as a soldier himself—that this is akin to a death sentence. Does your lord not think he should at least grant some decency and visit her?”

Haibara swallowed the lump in his throat. Truth be told, he completely agreed with Yumi. How could he not? Since the first day they had gotten back to the estate, he had tried to convince Suguru several times to go see you, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

He knew that this time Suguru didn’t dare to visit, not because he was too proud, but because he didn’t think he deserved to face you.

And Haibara understood the feeling of guilt and shame better than anyone else—it eats you alive.

It was like that day all over again.

The one person Suguru refused to see a final time before the cremation…

Was Sayuri.

It may come as a surprise to most, but Suguru wasn’t just some cold, calculated warlord from birth. He used to be a boy filled with hopes and dreams just like anyone else. He laughed, smiled, teased, and could even be a little mischievous. On the other hand, Haibara—believe it or not, was the complete opposite. He was quiet, observant, and even a bit distant.

By the age of eight, Haibara was already well-accustomed to shame and embarrassment, and worse yet, how to smile through it.

Now, why would such emotions be placed on a boy who was far too young, far too unequipped, to navigate such feelings?

It was all because of his father: Akito Haibara.

Akito was best described as a sly fox. A social climber. An opportunist. His ambitions outweighed his morals. Though he was intelligent and competent when he needed to be, his achievements had never been through merit, but rather through the connections he had sunk his claws in. He was a senior finance clerk within the royal palace, another administration role among the hundreds within its golden walls, but the only reason such an opportunity was even afforded to him in the first place, was because his wife was a minor lord’s daughter. Otherwise, as a person of common birth, he couldn’t even dream of stepping through the palace gates.

As a senior clerk, Akito was tasked with low-level treasury duties but still made a decent salary, yet, fortune on its own was not good enough. He wanted prestige. Status. Legacy. His dream was to become the Chief of Treasury.

And so, whenever he could, he would try to rub shoulders with whoever he deemed may be useful in catapulting his career, while blatantly ignoring anyone who didn’t serve his ambitions. In hindsight, Haibara was sure that his father saw everyone as chess pieces—quite literally and figuratively.

But sometimes, the universe seemed to favor the cruel, because very soon Akito struck an opportunity of a lifetime: Shinjiro Geto.

Shinjiro came into the House of Revenue one quiet afternoon while Akito was alone at the front desk. And right away, he recognized who the imposing figure was—the famed General of the Nine Suns, the embodiment of good character and integrity, a man that was almost more regal than King Sato himself. In fact, if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Shinjiro was the king.

Akito, being the conniving fox he was, was already scheming, thinking of what sweet and enticing words to say and make an impression on the unassuming general.

“General Geto, what a pleasant surprise.” He put on his best smile.

“Ah, yes. You are…”

Of course the general—up on his high horse—wouldn’t have known a lowly clerk like himself.

“Forgive my impoliteness. I am Akito Haibara, the senior finance clerk here,” he lightly bowed.

“Akito, a pleasure. And, please, there is no need for such formalities. We are all civil servants here,” Shinjiro chuckled.

Indeed, Akito was a great opportunist. Too cunning for his own good.

That one introduction sparked a string of conversations, and soon, he somehow secured himself an invitation to the Geto Estate.

“I have a son who’s just a year older than Yu, perhaps, if it��s not too much to ask—you can bring him to our home some time,” Shinjiro smiled earnestly.

“How could I ever burden you like that, General Geto?”

“Please, Akito, you can call me Shinjiro. I insist… besides,” the general let out a small weary sigh. “Suguru needs more friends. He spends too much time between books and the sword—I worry for him.”

“Ah, but I’m sure it’s only because he wants to live up to his father’s legacy.”

Shinjiro hummed, but there was a slight sadness in his eyes. “I often wished it weren’t so.”

“I understand your sentiment, Shinjiro. We only ever hope for our children’s happiness.”

“Precisely, I’m glad you understand. Sometimes... I wish my boy wasn’t so hard on himself.”

“And sometimes I wish my boy was more disciplined!”

The two men paused and exchanged an amused look. And then broke out into laughter.

“Then it’s settled—Suguru and Yu could learn from each other.” Shinjiro let out a sigh of relief.

“If it is for our children’s future, then allow me to be a shameless father.” Akito agreed heartily.

—

Confusion washed over Haibara as his father abruptly woke him up. Before his vision could even focus—before he had a chance to understand what was going on—his father had already begun yelling at him for being slow, muttering something about a place they had to visit. The Geto Estate—wherever that was.

Akito screamed for his wife, who bolted into the room, flustered. He barked out the order as he walked away: “Change him into his best clothes, so he doesn’t embarrass me.”

Haibara watched as his mother fumbled to the wardrobe, a familiar feeling bubbled in his chest once again. He had only recently learned the name of this feeling through a book he’d read by chance. Whenever he saw his mother, the name of that feeling was pity.

It was confusing, he didn’t know why his father was so awful to his mother, and he didn’t understand why his father seemed to hate him. He had never said it out loud, but it was evident in his eyes. His father always gave him a mean look. But in front of others, he was timid, soft-spoken—like a kind man.

So which one was his real father?

He wasn’t sure.

He had only hoped it was the kind man.

But he knew, deep down, it probably wasn’t.

…

Haibara found himself standing beside his father in front of the large wooden doors of the Geto Estate. It was enormous! He was certain the door alone could fit twenty of him.

Excitement washed over him as he admired the sheer size of the doors, but it faded quickly as his father let out a harsh grunt. The small boy immediately froze—a warning that he recognized all too well. It usually came before his father lost his temper.

As the doors swung open, he watched his father’s expression shift instantly. The kind-man face was back.

Hand-in-hand, the father and son crossed the threshold and into the front garden. Haibara had never seen such splendor before. The landscape was spectacular—well-manicured greenery, a serene zen garden, vibrant trees, and a few groundskeepers tending to the yard. If the Geto Estate was already this beautiful, he could only imagine what the palace must look like.

“Quit ogling like you’re some low-class commoner,” Akito hissed under his breath.

But he was a hypocrite. Green with envy, his own eyes scanned the yard and the immaculate estate.

If only he hadn’t been born a commoner.

If only his wife weren’t a minor lord’s daughter.

If only his son wasn’t such a weak, fragile thing.

He was competent. Intelligent. Handsome. He had all the makings of nobility. So why did the universe deal him such a lowly hand?

Why couldn’t he live Shinjiro Geto’s life?

As they continued toward the estate entrance, Akito couldn’t help the jealousy simmering inside him. It only deepened when he saw the Geto family standing there—waiting to greet them.

The whispers about Sumire Geto were true. Even after two children, she was still exquisite. A woman whom kings would go to war and tear down kingdoms for. It was a surprise that King Sato did not take her for himself.

A beautiful, picturesque family.

The envy of all men.

“Father, you’re holding my hand too tight!” Haibara squirmed under his grip.

Akito clicked his tongue and glared down at his son. Weak. His boy was so infuriatingly weak.

The day hadn't even begun, and Haibara was already wracked with anxiety. Were the Getos going to be nicer than Father? Or do they also have their kind-man faces?

“Akito, I’m so glad you could make it!” A welcoming voice called out.

“Shinjiro, thank you for your generous invitation.” Akito bowed.

Haibara timidly followed, “Thank you for the invitation, Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire.” Mimicking his father’s movements.

“My, you are a polite boy!” Shinjiro smiled, kneeling down on one knee to meet the small child in the eyes.

Lord Shinjiro indeed had a kind-man face, but it was different. His smile felt like the sun, and the slight crinkles around his eyes reminded him of the rays. All Haibara could do was stare at him in awe and slowly nod.

“This is my boy, Suguru, the two of you are around the same age,” he gently pulled Suguru to his side.

Haibara’s first impression of Suguru was that he was rather intimidating. He may have only been a year older, but he was already a few inches taller. He was also handsome like his father, but unlike Lord Shinjiro, Suguru felt like the winter snow. Cold, yet there was also a certain gentleness to him. His voice was rather soft, but his words were unwavering and precise. Sayuri, who was only four, was already a lot livelier than her older brother. And though she looked like Lady Sumire, Sayuri, too, felt like the sun.

But among all of them, if Haibara had to be honest, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Lady Sumire. If Lord Shinjiro and Sayuri were the sun, Suguru the winter snow; Lady Sumire reminded him of sun glitter—the shimmering light on water. He never knew it was possible for someone to be so radiant, and her voice was like a soothing lullaby.

For the first time, Haibara experienced the uncomfortable pangs of jealousy.

Because when he looked at Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire, he wished his father could feel like the warm sun too—and his mother could sparkle like sun glitter.

“Suguru, why don’t you go show Yu around? Perhaps you two can get to know each other more.” Lady Sumire smiled.

Suguru nodded and turned to Haibara. “What would you like to do? I can show you the training field or my study.”

“Oh yes. My boy has a variety of interests! He’s very keen on books and the sword as well!” Akito exclaimed.

Haibara shot a nervous look at his father. The sword? That wasn’t true. He had never even touched a wooden sword in his life! He wanted to tell them that his father made a mistake. Perhaps he remembered wrong. He loved books, yes, but never the sword—

“Is that right?” Shinjiro seemed amused. “Then it seems our two boys have a lot in common!”

Nervousness settled in Haibara’s chest as he followed Suguru’s lead. He quietly hoped they'd go to the study instead, and forget all about the training field. But of course, just as luck would have it, Suguru led him straight to the field.

“Here.” Suguru gave a small smile as he handed him a wooden practice sword, a slight interest glimmering in his eyes—unlike Haibara’s, which probably looked like those of a scared deer.

Especially with his father and the Getos watching from afar, he already dreaded how this would unfold.

Why did his father have to lie?

Why did he always put him in these kinds of predicaments?

“Are… you ready?” Suguru asked, but there was a bit of uncertainty in his voice. As if he’d caught on his pretense.

Haibara only nodded. Perhaps he’d just block a few of Suguru’s strikes and then it would be over. Surely, it wasn’t that difficult… right?

Wrong.

It was a lot more difficult than he had imagined.

Thanks to beginner’s luck, Haibara barely managed to block his first strike. Suguru’s wooden sword grazed his shoulder from the way he deflected the sword, and it stung, but Haibara endured it. On the second strike, he completely missed the block with his sword, and blocked it with his wrist instead. By the third strike, Suguru nearly hit his head but immediately stopped when Lord Shinjiro gave him a stern warning that he was being too rough.

Immediately after the warning, Suguru completely deflated—letting out a small huff, and returned the sparring swords to the rack.

“Why did you agree to spar when you didn’t want to?” he asked. There was an unamused look on his face.

“I… don’t know how to,” Haibara murmured, staring down at his feet.

“But your father said you were interested in the sword.”

“No… not really,” Haibara quietly confessed.

“So is your father a liar then?”

Heat rose to Haibara’s ears. He wanted to tell Suguru that his father was indeed a liar... a very good one, too. But what if the truth was relayed to Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire—and they never invited Father back?

Father would be angry.

He wished he could tell the truth, but the fear of his father's wrath gripped him like an icy vice.

“N-No…” Haibara lied.

“Then if your father isn’t a liar, then you must be a liar.” Suguru let out a breath of disbelief.

“I’m not!” His voice came out louder, more desperate, than he intended.

All heads turned toward the commotion, and when Haibara met his father’s scornful gaze, the blood drained from his face. The world began to spin, and it felt as though the sky was falling on him.

Everything was too overwhelming.

Tears welled in his eyes, and the more desperately he tried to hold them back, the more they threatened to spill. Father always hated it when he cried. Said that tears were for the weak-willed. Said that emotions were weak.

But he couldn’t stop it this time.

He burst into tears.

Everyone crowded around him, their faces etched with concern. All but Suguru, who stood behind his parents and watched everything unfold with a cold stare. Yet in a moment of vulnerability, Haibara's arms flew around Lady Sumire instead of his own father, seeking comfort and refuge. It caught everyone by surprise—except Lady Sumire, who cradled him without hesitation, as if he were her own child.

“I apologize, Lady Sumire!” Akito said, flustered, as he tried to pry his son off. “The boy must miss his mother.”

“It’s fine, Lord Akito,” she smiled gracefully. But her hands tightened around Haibara. “Let him stay.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in her warm embrace, but she never let him go. Her hand moved in soft, comforting circles along his back as she cooed to him gently. In between sobs he would mutter apologies, though he wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. But among the muffled sniffles and hiccups, Lady Sumire’s voice rang clear: It’s not your fault, Yu.

After that embarrassing debacle, Haibara was certain he would be reprimanded once he got home. Lady Sumire’s beautiful garment was a mess from all his tears, which his father profusely apologized for. The day dragged on, as he prepared for his impending doom. Suguru also became extremely quiet afterwards, retreating to his study room and then pulling out a book to read. Uncertain, Haibara trailed behind him hesitantly.

“Aren’t you going to join me, or are you just going to stand there?” Suguru murmured.

Something in his tone, and in how he avoided Haibara’s gaze, it reminded him of the way he avoided his father’s gaze whenever he thought he’d done something wrong.

Was it possible… that Suguru was feeling sorry?

Haibara nodded and quickly pulled a seat beside Suguru.

“What books do you like? I have many,” he said, flipping through his own book, but it was clear that he was not actually reading.

“I like all kinds of books—poetry, literature, fiction,” Haibara listed.

Suguru sighed, and reluctantly handed him the book he was currently holding, “How about this one? Your father said you liked books too. I am… a little confused about this one.”

Haibara’s eyes widened and he nodded, gingerly taking the book from Suguru’s hands. As he flipped through the pages, he enthusiastically explained each paragraph while Suguru quietly nodded along.

Little did he know, Suguru had already read the same fiction book five times. It was his favorite novel, but he just felt bad for making Haibara cry.

And just like that, a new brotherhood began.

…

“You have done wonderfully today, my boy!” Akito could barely contain his excitement as he stepped inside their home.

It was surprising, he thought he would be reprimanded after his outburst back at the Geto Estate. Instead, his father picked him up and gave him a few spins, chanting praises for being smart and brilliant.

For a moment, it felt good—that his father was finally pleased with him.

Haibara looked up to his father, as he was set back on his feet. Akito was grinning from ear to ear, and the boy couldn’t help but return the smile. But very soon, his father's features subtly twisted into something dark.

“It’s all because you tugged at that woman’s heartstrings,” he practically snickered.

That woman? Was he talking about Lady Sumire?

Haibara’s heart sank at the thought. An unfamiliar feeling coiled in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but all he knew was it didn’t feel so good anymore.

Still, he kept smiling.

“Perhaps your weakness can finally be your strength.”

Did his father mean his tears?

“Just cry a few more times and she might even make you her sworn kin!”

His smile immediately dropped as he watched his father hum happily and retreat into his office.

Ever since that day, Haibara never cried again.

Even from the young age of eight, he realized…

He never wanted to break Lady Sumire’s heart.

He never wanted to abuse her kindness.

—

Since that fateful day, on the twelfth of every month, Akito Haibara would bring his son to the Geto Estate without fail, until his son was the ripe age of fifteen, when he was old enough to travel on his own.

As soon as Haibara gained his independence to travel solo, he would make frequent visits to the Geto Estate, a place that had felt more like a home than his own home. Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire would always welcome him with open arms. His and Suguru’s bond continued to deepen. Meanwhile, everyone watched Sayuri blossom into a spirited young girl—a mirror image of Lady Sumire. Haibara treated her like a precious younger sister, though sometimes, the way she bossed him around and teased him, it felt more like she was the older one. It was amusing and strangely endearing.

But even in those warm years, guilt and shame still clung to Haibara like a phantom—an inescapable fate. It was all because of who his father was, and how all this only came to be through his manipulation.

Surely, there was no way someone like Lord Shinjiro couldn’t see through Akito’s deceit…

So then why? Why did he still maintain a relationship with his father? Why did he still help Akito get what he wanted?

Why did he still welcome the likes of Haibara?

He didn't understand it. And a small part of him wasn't sure if he ever wanted to find out.

—

Thanks to Shinjiro’s good word, Akito quickly ascended through the ranks and became the Chief of Treasury. Who would have guessed that a single general had so much sway in the palace? But perhaps, it wasn’t just his simple title—it was the prestige behind the Geto family name.

By then, Akito had also learned to tame his temper—he had an important image to uphold now, and high society (finally) had its eyes on him. Even so, Haibara’s mother eventually divorced him. She cried when she walked out of their home for the last time, but neither Haibara nor his father shed a tear. His father didn’t cry because he was glad to be rid of her. Haibara, on the other hand, did not shed a single tear—not because he was cold, but because he was happy. He no longer had to feel pity every time he saw her. His mother was free. Free from a wrath she never deserved.

It wasn’t a time for mourning.

It was a liberation worth celebrating.

But of course, for a leech like Akito, the satisfaction of his newfound status and fortune quickly faded. After all, human greed was a parasite.

He hungered for more. He wanted his son to be more.

Haibara had always irritated Akito. His son was too soft. Too moral. He may have inherited his intelligence, but he had his useless mother’s judgment. He’d never succeed Akito’s legacy.

Not like Suguru.

Suguru would become the next great general—arguably even greater than the General of the Nine Suns. Everyone could see it and had high hopes for him. Shinjiro Geto’s legacy would live on, whereas Akito’s hard work would be all for naught. The Haibara name would never be remembered. So if Akito couldn’t make his son into something great, then he’d tie him to greatness another way.

Sayuri.

Yes. She would be the key.

She would be his son’s wife.

…

Haibara had just returned home from the Geto Estate. Since his father’s new promotion, they now upgraded to an estate—just like the Getos. The only reason why he appreciated their new living conditions was because of the space, which meant there was more distance to avoid his father.

It always irked him… how his father seemed to be at some odd competition with Lord Shinjiro, except he was the only one entertaining his own delusions. When they first moved, his father immediately hired workers and groundskeepers to bring out his vision for the front yard. And it turned out to be a near replica of the one at the Geto Estate. Thankfully, Akito never extended the Getos an invitation to their new home, because quite frankly, it would have been embarrassing.

Regardless, Haibara kept his mouth shut, because he knew there would be no point. If his father was even reasonable in the first place, his mother would still be here, he would still be a senior clerk, they would still be living in their modest home, but at least they would be happy.

As he quickly made his way through the front of the estate, Akito emerged from his office and pulled him aside for a private word.

“My son, you are at the age where you ought to start considering a wife,” Akito said out of the blue.

“Why the sudden thought, Father?”

“It is not sudden. You will be eighteen soon. I also married your mother when I was that age.”

“I will consider it another time—I am not eighteen yet.” He tried to shut down the conversation.

“Don’t be foolish, son! Surely, you must have met a suitable woman already. Is there anyone who has caught your eye?”

Haibara sighed. “No, Father.”

He had already dreaded this conversation. Akito never spoke to anyone without an agenda, including his own son. He knew his father wasn’t asking out of genuine concern; he was trying to gauge him for something. Whatever scheme he was trying to orchestrate this time, Haibara knew he wanted no part of it. Still, he would at least pretend to hear him out.

Akito leaned in, his voice disturbingly lighthearted. “How about Sayuri?”

Bile rose in his throat, the pit of his stomach churning with disgust. Not because Sayuri disgusted him, but the fact that his vile father had set his dirty sights on her.

“No,” he replied firmly.

“Why not? She is growing up to be just like her mother—you will be the luckiest man in the country!”

“I will not consider her, Father. She is like a sister to me.” Haibara tried to contain the fury swirling inside him like a storm.

“But she isn’t your sister! Think about it—”

“There is no thinking about it. I will not entertain this conversation any longer,” Haibara snapped, beginning to walk away. His body trembled with rage and repulsion.

His father was a lecherous fiend, who only saw women for two things: status and pleasure. And for the first time ever, Haibara finally admitted… he hated his father.

Before he could take more than a few steps, Akito yelled after him. “Have you become so shortsighted?! Sure, you go visit them all the time—but do you think they really consider you as their family?”

Haibara gritted his teeth, ignoring his father and marching straight to his room.

It’s not that what his father said wasn’t true. Even now, he wasn’t sure if the Getos truly saw him as family. But if he must admit, a part of him felt it was for the better that they didn’t, because to this day, Haibara still felt like an outsider among them. He was unworthy. And he never wanted to sully the Geto’s good name.

They could never be family, because he was Akito Haibara’s filthy kin.

Ever since his father had gotten what he wanted, he had even stopped visiting the Geto Estate—stopped visiting Lord Shinjiro altogether.

It was shameless.

How he made it so obvious.

How he couldn’t even pretend.

Every time Haibara visited, Lord Shinjiro would ask him how his father had been doing, and all Haibara could do was come up with the same feeble excuses—that he was busy because of work, or busy entertaining other officials for work. When in reality his disgraceful father would just spend his days gallivanting around town and visiting tea houses… which were fancy fronts for brothels.

At this point, he was quite certain Lord Shinjiro knew he was lying. Yet, after every feeble excuse, he would give the same warm smile, and remind Haibara to tell his good friend Akito that family and health should come before work. Haibara would return a polite smile and promise him to relay the message to his father.

But he never would.

His father didn’t deserve Lord Shinjiro’s kindness.

He himself didn’t deserve Lord Shinjiro’s kindness.

All these years… Haibara felt like a fraud.

Because no matter what, they were cut from the same cloth.

Like father, like son.

And the thought made him sick.

—

Akito’s marriage conversation replayed in Haibara’s mind over and over again. The more he thought about it, the more disgust churned in his stomach. Normally, he was pretty good at hiding his turmoil, but recently, the mask was too suffocating, too heavy to keep on. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend.

“You’re spacing out again, Haibara,” Suguru mused.

“What’s wrong with him today, nii-sama?”

Suguru turned to Sayuri and shrugged.

“It’s nothing… I fell off my horse on the way here, so my back is sore,” Haibara absently lied.

“I don’t believe it,” Suguru gave him a half-amused, half-skeptical look. “You’ve always been a steady rider.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Haibara casually countered, but his gaze was still fixed outside to the courtyard. There was nothing interesting about the courtyard, but his guilt kept him from meeting them in the eyes—especially Sayuri’s.

Sayuri gave Suguru a puzzled look, which he returned with a knowing nod. “Could you bring Haibara an herbal patch?”

She was tempted to protest, but held back from doing so.

“...Fine,” she relented, understanding her brother’s tacit request: a boys’ talk.

She quietly left and slid the room door shut. Suguru stayed silent, carefully listening to her retreating footsteps, until he was confident she was far enough from eavesdropping.

“What’s on your mind?” He began.

It was inconvenient how perceptive Suguru was, nothing ever escaped his keen eyes. And for someone like Haibara, it was uncomfortable, because there were too many shameful things he couldn’t say out loud.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then why are you sulking?”

“I am not—” Haibara clicked his tongue. “I do not sulk.”

“I beg to differ,” Suguru returned, a small lilt in his voice.

“It’s nothing, Suguru. Stop asking.” He rolled his eyes.

A brief stillness fell over the two boys.

“...is it your father?”

Haibara paused, and turned his head slowly to meet his friend’s gaze.

“How would you know?”

“You’re not upset unless it’s him.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Suguru hummed. “Not really.”

It was true, Haibara hid his emotions well. But Suguru also knew his best friend better than anyone else, and it was something he took great pride in. After all, he would be a terrible friend if he didn’t notice.

Haibara let out a deep sigh—a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. He was utterly ashamed, terrified Suguru might see his father’s cruelty as a reflection of him.

But now that he was here, confronted by his best friend, it felt wrong not to confess the truth… when he’s been lying to them for so long.

“My father is a monster.” The words spilled from his lips before he even had time to properly articulate them.

There was a look of surprise in Suguru’s eyes, and immediately, regret surged in Haibara's chest.

He had already started this conversation wrong.

From here on out, his best friend would never be able to see him the same way again.

“Why is he a monster?”

“He… he’s not a good man. He doesn’t see anyone as an actual human—just a pawn for his gains. Whether it’s his own family or anyone else… I’m sorry I lied to you and your family.”

Heavy silence filled the room. Every second felt suffocating, every breath felt harder and harder to take. Haibara didn’t dare to look into Suguru's eyes.

The shame. The guilt. The remorse. It was all too much to bear.

“I’m sorry, Haibara.”

Was this it?

Was this the end of their friendship—?

“I should have asked you sooner.”

Haibara looked at his best friend, eyes wide in shock, and for once, words failed him. This wasn’t the outcome he expected. He thought Suguru would be angry. Disgusted by him—or at the very least, disappointed. But instead, he was apologizing. Accepting him.

He didn’t know what to say. What to think of this situation.

Because Haibara had only ever prepared for the friendship to be doomed, once the truth of his father’s nature came to light.

Suguru let out a small sigh and narrowed his eyes. Now he was the one who avoided Haibara’s gaze. “I had a feeling—he hadn’t been kind to you. I should have said something.”

“It’s fine…” Haibara quietly said, blinking out the sting in his eyes.

On one hand, he was relieved that Suguru still wanted to be his friend. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel exposed and embarrassed.

“He is my father. He’s not your problem, Suguru. I just feel remorseful that he used your family as well.”

Suguru let out a small scoff. “You think my family would easily be tricked by someone—even like your father—into using them? You think too lowly of Geto.”

“Lord Shinjiro helped my father become Chief! That was all he wanted from him this whole time!”

“And what of it?” Suguru crossed his arms, and leaned back into his chair.

In this light, Haibara realized—Suguru had truly grown into a formidable young man. He was almost the spitting image of Lord Shinjiro, but he had Lady Sumire’s smile and calm demeanor.

“Your father may be insufferable, but he’s competent,” Suguru continued, “And as you said, it is thanks to my father he is where he is now, which means he owes my father.”

“Still, Lord Shinjiro is far too kind. He always wishes my father well and asks how he’s doing, when my father doesn’t even care to visit anymore!”

“Well, have you relayed my father’s messages to him?”

“O-Of course, not! He doesn’t deserve it—”

“You should have delivered my father’s messages.”

Haibara shot him a frustrated glance, but Suguru’s gaze only softened.

“Haibara, I can assure you—his well-wishes were never intended for Lord Akito...

“They were for you.”

Haibara blinked, unsure if he’d misheard. He struggled to draw the connection. He didn’t understand how those kind words were for his sake.

A small, understanding smile graced Suguru’s lips. “That was my father’s way of warning him… that he was watching over you.”

His breath caught. The revelation knocked the air out of his lungs.

He had always known Lord Shinjiro was sharp. His level of perceptiveness was a rarity even among other like-minded individuals. Yet he never understood why he continued to treat Akito with such patience, with such… grace.

But now, it made sense.

Because Lord Shinjiro wasn’t showing kindness to a man who deserved it.

He was showing kindness to protect someone else.

To protect him.

A sense of remorse and unworthiness washed over him. All this time, he felt isolated, like a stranger looking through a window. But he realized it was not his father, it was not his circumstances, it was him—his own insecurities and resentment towards Akito that kept him from being close. That kept him from truly accepting the Getos.

No more.

He cannot hide behind self-pity and play victim like his father.

That would be an insult to Lord Shinjiro, to Lady Sumire, to his mother.

Still, one question lingered.

“When… did he know?” Haibara’s voice shook.

There was a brief pause that followed, only the delicate songbirds cutting into the silence of the study room.

And then, Suguru smiled at him—truly smiled. His eyes carried that same warmth as Lord Shinjiro’s, which was rare.

“It was my mother who noticed it first.”

Lady Sumire?

But how?

“That day,” he said softly. “When you ran to her instead of your own father.”

On that quiet spring day, its gentle warmth thawed the cold vice that had always gripped his conscience. Between two sworn brothers, a liberating realization took shape, lifting the weight Haibara had carried for what felt like a lifetime. He never realized how good freedom could feel—like he could soar through the sky and take on the world.

Did his mother feel the same when she left?

Probably not.

Because Haibara understood that she loved him. And no loving mother would have wanted to leave their child behind.

When Haibara finds his own footing in this world—he will visit her, not as the son of Akito Haibara. But as a worthy, capable man in his own right. A man she could be proud of.

Alas, life always takes the opposite turn when one least expects it.

—

Haibara felt as though the world was ending. Silence drowned beneath a deafening buzz ringing in his ears. His breathing became erratic. He clutched his chest—his heart pounding so rapidly, so harshly, he thought he was having a heart attack.

In fact, it was better that he did and just passed away.

Because what the hell did his father mean that the Geto Family had just been massacred?

Suguru.

Sayuri.

Lady Sumire.

Lord Shinjiro…

“Did you hear me, Yu?” Akito asked, irritation creeping into his voice. He hated repeating himself.

He looked up at his father, who was completely unmoved by the news. Without a flicker of sympathy or sadness, he tossed the scroll aside—a message from the royal court announcing their tragic death.

How could this bastard be so cruel?

Lord Shinjiro welcomed them to his home. Helped Akito rise to power. And this was how he delivered the news? Without even a shred of sympathy? Treating it like it’s an annoyance?

For the first time in his life, Haibara felt something dangerous snap inside him.

A violent, burning rage surged through his veins.

He wanted to kill his father.

Without another word, Haibara rose, grabbed his sword, and secured it at his hip. It was a precious item that was gifted to him by Lord Shinjiro last year. He had always abhorred violence. Mostly because his father had glorified it in such a twisted, hollow way. But over the years, after training with Suguru and Lord Shinjiro, Haibara had learned there could be honor in the sword. And sometimes, it was even a necessity—to protect the ones you cherish.

“Where are you going?” his father asked, irritated.

“I’m riding to the Geto Estate,” Haibara replied, voice unfaltering.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Akito shot up from his seat, his cup of wine spilling all over the desk.

“I should ask you the same,” Haibara snapped, his glare sharp as a blade. “Do you have any honor? Any decency? After all they’ve done for you—this is how you thank them?”

“You really are stupid, just like your mother! What makes you think going there will change anything?! They’re dead—”

Haibara drew his sword, the tip pressing against his father’s throat.

“If you don’t hold your vile tongue, I’ll send another soul to the afterlife tonight,” he said coldly. “Though I doubt even hell would open their gates for you.”

Akito trembled. For the first time, he had seen something foreign in his son's eyes, there was no doubt, no fear, no emotions. He no longer looked weak. Even one more breath, and Akito knew he would certainly be dead.

For all his boasting about power and strength, he folded quickly when faced with the real thing.

Haibara scoffed, sheathing his sword.

If only he had found his strength sooner. If only he could have protected his own mother.

If only he hadn’t been so afraid of this coward.

Without another word, he disappeared into the night. Praying for a miracle, Haibara rode full speed toward the estate, focusing on the pounding of his horse’s hooves—anything to drown out the dark voices in his mind

Because he didn’t know if he could live on, if Suguru was dead.

—

It was dawn by the time Haibara made it to the estate. The sky was painted in hues of blue, purple, and pink—Sayuri’s favorite colors. As if the universe was sending a message, that their souls had found peace.

Standing before the grand doors of the Geto Estate brought back a rush of nostalgia—like the very first time he arrived with his father at eight years old. But now, the wood was splintered, blood stained the entrance.

Haibara had never seen the effects of war or violence, he had only read about them in books. But he could already imagine the gruesome sight he would encounter beyond the doors, because he could already smell it—the acrid tang of putrefaction. Like a rancid meat odor, but a hundred times more pungent.

For the first time, he had come to learn the smell of death, and they say that once you’ve smelt it, you could never forget it. No books, no theory, could prepare him for what’s to come.

Despite it all, he must persevere.

And so, he took a deep breath and marched through the front doors, determined to face the truth, no matter how much it may break him.

There were already royal guards diligently patrolling the premises. Lines of bodies had been covered by white cotton sheets—presumably the servants and in-house workers. Even the horses and chickens were not spared. He made it only a few steps into the front garden before being abruptly stopped by one of the soldiers.

“Halt! What are you doing here?”

“I have come to pay my respects.”

“Does this look like the appropriate time to pay your respect?! Leave now before—”

“I do not think you understand your position,” Haibara snapped. “I am Yu Haibara, son of Lord Akito Haibara, Chief of Treasury—and I am also the sworn kin of Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire Geto.”

Using his father’s name felt like swallowing glass, but perhaps Akito was no longer the only one in the family well-versed in manipulation and deceit. At least this once, his name had served some purpose.

Haibara drew his sword—the steel glimmered under dawn's first light—and presented it to the guard, who assessed it with a discerining eye. The pommel bore the crest of House Geto, while the blade was engraved with his name: Yu Haibara. The guard immediately stiffened, casting a glance toward his superior.

“Now that we are in understanding,” Haibara said coldly. “Do not stand in my way. I’ve come to mourn my family.”

“Our apologies, Lord Haibara. You have our deepest condolences,” the soldiers nodded, and without another word gave him a slight bow—gesturing to him to proceed.

As Haibara made his way through the familiar corridors, every step was bogged by the weight of grief, regret, and sorrow. He should have been here. Not that he would have been useful if even Lord Shinjiro had been felled. But at least he could have been with them to the very end.

Each step brought him closer to the brink, brought him closer to a truth he wasn’t sure if he could survive. How much more could he endure?

Should he just end it here, and be with them?

No.

He had sworn not to be a coward. At the very least, he should see all of them—see it with his own eyes. And then he can decide what to do next…

“I need a report on the bodies recovered,” Haibara demanded, stopping one of the soldiers in the corridor.

“Y-Yes, Lord Haibara,” one of the soldiers replied. But his wavering gaze and unsteady breath were enough to tell Haibara that the brutality of this massacre shook even the strongest of men.

As the soldier listed the names one by one, Haibara sank further and further into despair. Lord Shinjiro died a gruesome death—countless stab wounds and arrows to his back. He was found shielding Lady Sumire and Sayuri until the very end. Both Lady Sumire and Sayuri died swiftly. Apparently the killer gave them quick deaths—a merciful kill they said. But there was nothing merciful about this. They had done nothing to incur this heinous atrocity. Haibara couldn’t stomach the details and told the soldier to stop. He didn’t want the images of their final moment engraved in his mind—especially not Sayuri’s death. He just wanted to know if they had suffered or not. And as the soldier finished up the list he realized: Suguru’s body had yet to be discovered.

Call it instinct, or a brotherly bond, but he felt it in his very core: Suguru was still alive, somewhere. And he needed to find him quick, before anyone else did. Without wasting another second, Haibara began to walk towards a secluded area of the estate, his heart beating rapidly.

Logically speaking, by now, the entirety of the estate should be swept—so if they hadn’t found Suguru yet, it was safe to assume that he had gone somewhere obscure.

Somewhere easy to miss.

Like Sayuri’s hidden tea garden.

It was a small area that she had cleared in the courtyard—hidden behind bushes. Her safe haven, as she liked to call it. For when she wanted to hide herself away from the world, read her books, and enjoy sweet treats. It was a secret that she had only revealed to Suguru and Haibara, as her most trusted confidants.

Please be there, Suguru, he silently begged.

As Haibara approached the area, he noticed two unfamiliar bodies.

Were they servants of House Geto?

But as he looked closer at their uniform, he realized they couldn’t be—because he didn’t recognize the all-black attire.

Perhaps they were the assassins?

Did Suguru take them down?

As Haibara continued to track behind the vibrant patches of green, he noticed the blood streaks trailing into the bush.

There was no doubt. Suguru was there.

He quickly wove his way through the bushes, and there he was laying face down on the ground with deep wounds. His blade was still clutched in his hands.

He never yielded, even when his body broke down.

With trembling hands, Haibara reached out, searching for breath.

Please, live, he chanted over and over again like a silent prayer.

You must live, Suguru.

And then he felt it.

It was shallow, to a point where it could have easily been swept with the gentle breeze of the wind. But there was no denying it, he was still alive.

Haibara nearly broke down right there and then, but there was no time. Each second was precious. Each second dragged him closer to the edge of death.

“Suguru,” he whispered.

He remained unresponsive.

Immediately springing into action, he tore the fabric of his clothes—trying to wrap up any large injuries. As he was tying up one of the wounds, a hand reached out to him, nearly causing him to yell.

“They…” Suguru said with a strained breath. “They can’t… be trusted…”

They?

What was he talking about?

Was he perhaps delirious from losing too much blood?

“I’ll get you out of here, I swear it, Suguru.”

“Do not let them… see you…”

Then, he fell out of consciousness.

…

After Suguru’s warning, Haibara somehow managed to slip through the Geto Estate undetected, and returned home.

Akito’s face drained of color when he saw Haibara carrying a battered, barely recognizable Suguru through the entrance.

“What are you doing, Yu?!”

Haibara ignored his father and rushed to his room with Suguru still on his back

“Call the physician—now.” He commanded, desperation bleeding through his voice.

“No! I will not! Why didn’t you just leave him there?!” Akito protested, urgently trailing behind his son. “This is clearly an omen! Surely, the Geto family must have incurred the gods’ wrath!”

Time and time again, Akito proved himself a heartless bastard. Yet, he shouldn’t have expected any less from this bottom-feeding scum. However, now wasn’t the time for arguments—Haibara needed his father’s cooperation.

“Don’t be so short-sighted, Father,” Haibara said, sliding open the bedroom door with urgency and carefully setting Suguru on his bed.

“Think about it—he’s now the sole survivor of House Geto.” He locked eyes with his father.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! What if the assassins come for us?!” Akito was hysterical. His hands trembled, fear finally breaking through his usual conceited demeanor.

He was scared.

Good. Now, he would prey on that fear, the same way his father always had.

This would be the last time. Like father, like son he shall be.

“Have you grown complacent after becoming Chief?”

“That’s not true—”

“I thought better of you, Father. I never expected your ambitions to be so… shallow.”

Akito grumbled. His ambitions were shallow? Never!

“This is different! You don't know what you're getting all of us into!”

“Do you think you would be safe after all this, Father? Think about it, now that Lord Shinjiro—the man who vouched for your current position—is gone. What’s not to say that your position as Chief would soon be given to someone else?”

There was a brief pause, and as much as Akito loathed to admit it, his son had brought up a valid point. When had he become so cowardly and short-sighted?!

“Then what do you suggest?”

Haibara smirked, spotting the greed glinting in his father’s eyes. A glow Akito couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“We make him owe us—owe you, father. He has no family, no one to turn to—so naturally, he will turn to you, his savior.”

Akito began to nod, the gears already turning before the words had even fully settled. In the face of opportunity, he never hesitated. Covetousness flowed through him like blood—vital, instinctive, endless.

“If he survives this, you will have all of House Geto under your thumb. And you will be revered among the court as a man of integrity. Lord Shinjiro’s trusted friend, the savior of his only kin. And that House Geto was only able to survive, because of Akito Haibara, the honorable Chief of Treasury.”

There was a moment of silence, but Haibara already knew he had his father right where he wanted. As wicked as his father was, at least he was predictable. His greed and selfishness made him ironically easy to manipulate.

“My son…” Akito’s eyes glimmered, as he gave him a strong pat on the arm. “You have grown to be a brilliant man! I see you are indeed intelligent and wise, just like your old man!”

The compliment felt more like an insult. And his smile only made the rage inside him simmer.

“Of course, Father. I only learn from the greatest of minds,” he smiled and leaned in. “But we must make sure this does not get out. Otherwise, others will try to steal your glory like vultures.”

Akito grinned and nodded with grotesque enthusiasm. Only a man like him could still manage to find gold among bones. He wasted no time and sprang into action. He ordered the servants to tend to Suguru, stationed guards outside his room, and summoned only the best physicians.

“I want to make sure not even a strand of this boy’s hair is lost!” He barked with urgency.

“Prepare the warmest and healthiest meals with haste!”

“Summon Physician Masashi immediately!”

“I want two guards stationed by the door at all times, and one guard standing watch inside!”

“Be sure not a single word gets out that the head of House Geto is here, or I’ll have your tongues!”

Servants all scrambled as Akito took matters into his own hands.

It was always the heartless ones that could act so convincingly.

He had never understood why Lord Shinjiro had decided to help elevate his father’s career. But now, seeing him take charge so efficiently, Haibara grudgingly admitted his father could be competent when it suited him.

Regardless, Haibara harbored no resentment at this moment, because he had gained what he needed out of this: a second wind for Suguru.

—

3 days later…

Everything was cold and dark.

He was sinking into an endless black sea. All he could hear was the burbling of water. He wasn’t sure how long he had been freefalling. Time and space seemed to warp in this realm, but as time passed, he slowly grew accustomed to the perpetual darkness. It became oddly comfortable, even.

Is this what the afterlife looked like?

Just an endless abyss of nothingness?

Or was he being condemned for making his sister cry?

He was supposed to apologize to her. In fact, he was about to—he didn’t want her to go to bed misunderstanding him. It had never been his intention to say something so callous.

The more he thought about his sister’s words, the more he realized that she was just… scared.

And there was no sin, no shame in fear.

Because that night, he too had been afraid.

Fear gripped him when he heard the blood curdling scream from outside his study room.

Terror washed over him when he armed his sword to his hips and stepped outside to find the courtyard already painted in crimson and gore.

Anxiety coiled around his body when he tried to make his way to his family and protect them.

Dread loomed over when a group of assassins intercepted him and he finally had to arm himself to kill.

Horror devastated him when he sunk his blade into two of them, but was dealt a fatal blow from behind.

Despair consumed him when his world began to fade to black… because he knew he’d never have a chance to properly reconcile.

He was scared that she would never forgive him.

Suddenly, a harsh light ripped him from the black sea. And that was when he realized…

He had survived.

He’s awake. Someone call the physician immediately! A muffled voice said.

He still felt a bit disoriented. But he soon realized it was Haibara’s voice.

“Suguru!” His good friend called.

Yet in this moment, he couldn’t think of anything except for Sayuri, Mother, Father.

“Haibara.” His voice rasped as he mustered the strength to grab his friend. “Where is my family?”

Haibara didn’t need to say anything for Suguru to understand—the look of despair on his friend’s face said it all: they were gone.

Damn it.

Why didn’t he go with them?!

Why was he the only one to live?!

Why must the universe be so cruel?!

He laid there, numb and devoid of emotions, Haibara explained to him what had happened. How he immediately rode to his residence when he heard of his family’s demise. How he had miraculously found him in Sayuri’s tea garden. How he had been in a coma for three days.

What will he ever do now—now that all he’s ever known and cherished is gone?

How could he move on?

It was impossible.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before, so much so that it became numb.

And then that numbness eventually prickled.

And then it turned hot.

And then it became scorching rage.

A heaviness settled in the room. Haibara had sent everyone out.

“It was King Sato,” Suguru finally muttered.

Haibara’s eyes widened. “King Sato—why? A-are you sure?”

Suguru nodded. His eyes were hollow, but rimmed with unshed tears.

All these years, Haibara had never seen Suguru cry. Even now, his best friend was stubbornly holding onto his tears. Nobody would have blamed him for crying, his entire family had just been murdered in cold blood.

“There were talks of a rebellion,” he let out a shaky breath. “I heard it in passing a few nights ago... before the attack.

“They wanted to make my father king—but he didn’t want it! He never asked for it!” Suguru’s voice cracked. “Even if they handed my father the crown, he would have never taken it!”

The dam within Suguru broke. He faltered, and agonizing sobs filled the room. The pain, the grievance, the injustice—it was all palpable.

The revelation was earthshattering.

Haibara’s entire body trembled with rage, sorrow, but also… with fear. Because if it were true, then this was no simple agenda.

This wasn’t the work of mere enemies.

This was an execution order from the crown itself.

He had heard of rumors and read in some historical texts that every monarch throughout history had something called a Shadow Division. As the name implies, those among this covert group lived in the shadow of the king who appointed them. And their duties ran anywhere between espionage to assassinations—essentially, anything the crown wanted hidden from the world.

Like specters, nobody knows who they are, what they looked like, how they were recruited. Apparently, even among the group itself, it was entirely possible that they didn't know who their fellow members were. They were all discreetly enlisted by the king—and they died with their king.

That would explain two of the unidentified bodies wearing unrecognizable uniforms, found near Suguru.

Surely, there will be repercussions.

Surely, King Sato would not sit idly by while the heir of House Geto remained undiscovered.

No… there must be a way to survive all this. Because fate—although cruel—had allowed Suguru to live.

“I’ll kill that bastard who took my family—who took everything from me!” Suguru seethed.

Haibara’s heart beat violently in his chest. Suguru was not just pointing his sword at anyone, he was pointing it at the crown.

It was utter suicide.

This would not be what his family had wanted.

But the unyielding look in Suguru’s eyes said it all: there was no stopping him. There was only vengeance. Only pure hatred. It was an inferno that could never be extinguished. And perhaps, the only thing fueling him at this very moment to live.

There was no doubt, if Haibara left Suguru in his current state, he would have just marched straight through the palace and gotten killed by the royal guards before he even had a chance of touching King Sato.

Suguru needed a voice of reason, someone to steady his feet, someone to ground him.

Or how else was he going to exact his revenge?

A part of Haibara, too, wanted revenge.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Trying to think of the next move on the board.

Together, they will endure this.

Together, they will survive this.

There were no guarantees, but he will have to roll the dice and leave the rest up to fate. And should it be the universe's will to have the two die in the process? Then so be it. At least the five of them can reunite again then, which wouldn’t be so terrible.

There was nothing to lose at this point.

“We will hold a funeral for your family first—a funeral of the century,” Haibara said steadily.

“What would that change? It wouldn’t bring them back, Haibara!” Suguru looked up at him, fury in his eyes. “And you want to have their deaths paraded among the very ones who wished for their demise?!”

“I implore you to think, Suguru,” Haibara gritted his teeth. “I loathe the thought just as much. But if King Sato, and whoever else, truly wants your family gone—it means they’re still after you. They will want your silence. They will want you cowering in fear.”

Suguru’s fists balled so tightly it drew blood.

But Haibara was right.

If they remained in hiding, they would be playing right into their hands. It would only be a matter of time before King Sato sent assassins his way again, and he was certain, this time they would finish the job without issues.

He must solidify his stance. He must make it so he becomes hard to ignore, and that his absence would be noticed, questioned, and could even cause a revolt.

He must swallow it all down. He must prevail.

He must display courage.

He shall walk through hellfire to ensure Sato’s inglorious death.

Suguru looked up, voice tremoring with wrath. “Then let’s give my family the honor and glory of a lifetime.”

Haibara gave a firm nod. Their wills refortified.

“Then from this moment on, Geto-sama, let me—Yu Haibara—be your first ally.

Your eyes, where you cannot see.

Your ears, where you cannot hear.

Your voice, when you cannot speak.

Your mind and heart, when you cannot judge.

My allegiance shall be to House Geto, before all else.”

Without hesitation, Suguru accepts.

“Yu Haibara, you honor me with your allegiance. From here on out, I shall entrust you with my life. You shall become my brother in arms, my All-Seeing Advisor.”

Henceforth, Haibara shall no longer be shackled by the shadow of his father. His intelligence and blade shall be sharp, but with grace. It would be used for good—to protect. Just as Lord Shinjiro had done for him many years ago.

Suguru will never be alone again. He will be his watcher.

—

The day of the funeral processions commenced, Suguru did not shed a single tear and stood there, unmoving, like a soldier on guard. There was no anger, no sorrow, only a numbness accompanied by slight paranoia. Across the sea of mourners, he couldn’t help but try to discern who were the ones that were secretly rejoicing at his family’s demise, and who were genuinely mourning their deaths.

Akito Haibara shamelessly pushed to the front, weeping on his knees like the fraud he was, loudly professing how beloved a friend Shinjiro had been. His acts were so grossly performative, that Haibara couldn’t stand another second, and waved to a guard to usher him away. And as they plucked Akito off the ground, he continued to hold steadfast onto his performance to the very end, wailing, sobbing, and calling out Shinjiro’s name.

Don’t trust any of them. They all wanted your family dead. The thoughts wound through Suguru’s mind, threatening to corrupt like poisoned tendrils.

It was all too overwhelming. He just wanted this to be over soon.

How he managed to keep a blank face when King Sato approached him was beyond Suguru’s comprehension. Perhaps he had already disassociated. Nevertheless, it was something he would need to master if he wanted to exact his revenge.

And then, just for a fleeting moment, something unexpected happened.

His eyes found a father and daughter standing quietly at the far end of the crowd. If it hadn’t been for his naturally keen eyes, he might have missed it. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, the intrusive whispers vanished in an instant.

How strange.

Though he didn’t know then how your fates would intertwine, and he would have long forgotten this moment by the time the two of you met again. At the time, he silently thanked you for giving him a moment of reprieve.

A chance to breathe again.

—

A year later…

Shortly after the funeral, Haibara abandoned Akito overnight and began his new life serving under House Geto. During this time, Suguru and Haibara worked tirelessly to revitalize the Geto Estate, and vetted out loyal servants.

Their first political gamble had been successful; there had been no further assassination attempts since the funeral. Perhaps, it was Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire, and Sayuri’s way of watching over them. Whatever it may be, they had to stay vigilant. There was no room for complacency.

It may surprise some that Suguru chose to remain on the very grounds where his family had been massacred. But for Haibara, who had been there from the beginning and had become a part of their family, he too, wouldn’t have abandoned this place.

The Geto Estate was a sacred place that should be remembered and celebrated, not reduced to a haunted ground of tragedy.

Of all that had been destroyed, the cherry blossom tree that Lord Shinjiro gifted to his beloved wife survived. That alone stood as a testament to their enduring legacy.

One afternoon, a royal messenger came knocking on the front gates of the Geto Estate.

“A letter to the kin of Akito Haibara,” the messenger said, handing the scroll to Haibara, who received it with both hands.

And as he returned to Suguru’s office and read its contents, he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh.

The universe truly had its strange sense of justice.

To the kin of Akito Haibara, It is the Royal Palace’s utmost regret to inform you that your father, Akito Haibara, has passed. According to the palace physician, he contracted multiple brothel illnesses and was found deceased in his estate. In light of this disgrace, His Majesty has seen fit to posthumously revoke your father’s title as Chief of Treasury. Furthermore, it has been decreed that his next of kin shall not be granted the privilege of serving within the palace. Akito’s ashes are currently held at the Royal Crematory Hall. Should they remain unclaimed within seven days’ time, they shall be discarded. House of Civil Affairs By Royal Decree of His Majesty, King Sato

“What’s so amusing?” Suguru asked, an eyebrow arched.

Haibara handed him the letter. As Suguru’s eyes trailed the words, he let out a scoff.

“What do you intend to do?” He passed the letter back.

Haibara shrugged and threw the parchment into the brazier.

“Nothing.”

Life indeed worked in mysterious ways. For all the pain, suffering, and chaos that Akito Haibara had wrought, this quiet ending seemed the most befitting way for him to go. One where he would not be remembered, honored, or mourned…

Reduced to nothing but dust, and blown away with time.

Present Day

Over the years, the two sailed through turbulent waves, and faced countless trials and tribulations. But through it all, their bond remained strong. It goes without saying that Haibara would lay down his life for Suguru without hesitation. Yet it’d also be a lie to say that there weren’t moments of doubt.

Was their path to vengeance reasonable?

Would they ever succeed?

It had been exactly ten years since they began working within the shadows—trying to find an opportunity to overthrow King Sato. Still, there was a final piece missing. Haibara could see that Suguru was growing impatient. But something had shifted lately—an undercurrent in the air, as if revolution was nigh.

Suguru didn’t need many allies, but he needed someone who was powerful in their own right. Someone who would not bow down to the crown so easily. Someone who will not cower in fear. Someone who could turn the tides of war.

Someone like you.

Haibara let out a small sigh as he glanced toward the palace courtyard. A few servant girls passing by giggled and waved. He returned his signature smile and politely nodded, garnering timid gasps and gushes. Even amid the beauty, unease still churned quietly within him. Suguru may have successfully evaded a war, but the chasm between you and him had only widened.

It was going to be a long road ahead. He feared that the path to reconciliation would not be an easy one. But it was during these trying times that it was Haibara’s time to shine.

He had full confidence that you, Lady Geto, would not crumble so easily. And that Suguru will make things right—he always had.

And as the All-Seeing Advisor, whose allegiance is to House Geto, Haibara will not falter. Suguru may not have realized it yet, but Haibara knew from the very beginning: you were his perfect match. He had known it since the day you stepped off the carriage and took your first steps through the front doors of the Geto Estate. The way you were nervous, but your eyes still glimmered with hope. The way you remained dignified and determined, even in the face of injustice and obstacles. The way you were strong and intelligent, but used it to protect and not to gain.

Courageous. Honorable. Indomitable.

They were all qualities that House Geto represented. There was no doubt that Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire, and Sayuri would have welcomed you with open arms, adoring you as their own.

Haibara may serve as Suguru’s right hand until the day he dies, but his loyalty had always begun with Lady Sumire.

The woman who showed him safety.

The woman who showed him kindness.

The woman who showed him unconditional love.

The woman who helped him realize…

It’s not your fault, Yu.

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