#i think his jealousy is a lot more quiet and directed to himself

[seiwas]

Oof a jealous Katsuki bc of shout 🥰 say less

it’s what my dreams are made of nonie

[1d1195]

Traditional - Extra VII

Read Traditional here | ~4.1k words

Warnings: smut. 18+ only. oral (m), sex, maybe public if you believe enough. Otherwise, it's kinda fluffy

From me: idk I think Harry can be a little TOO self-loathing. And he is really so sweet and nice overall. I think he deserves some TRADITIONAL sugar-daddy CEO treatment.

Summary: Harry is a lot calmer now that the client fiasco is over. But he's still on edge. Fortunately, she has an idea to take the edge off.

Harry was much more pleased with the direction of his company now that the biggest crisis of his career was finally in the rearview mirror. Now that her arm was healed and his clients were stable, everything was much better.

Except Harry didn’t fully accept it.

It was like there was a little worm in his brain that ate at him and whispered directly into the auditorial processing space that something, at any moment, would go wrong. The other shoe would drop and he would be back at square one.

“Baby?” She interrupted his thoughts of worthlessness and impostor syndrome. God he needed to see someone. But when was there time? “I asked about dinner, it’s Monday,” she reminded him gently. His mind reeling but he wanted to focus on her.

He wasn’t angry. For the first time in months. It felt like that for everyone around him. It created an entirely different vibe in the office. People weren’t scared during meetings. He didn’t slam his phone down when something was late.

But she noticed how withdrawn he was because she knew him.

“Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was still quiet. Like she was a little afraid she would set him off. But he hadn’t bought new electronics in months. The accounting department joked they would get to decrease the furniture budget this quarter as it closed. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh because it was true. It was the first time he felt at ease since the mess happened.

It was awful.

“M’fine,” he smiled gently at her. It was their daily meeting. The one Harry didn’t even know they had until he saw it written on her calendar back when her cramps made her sleep through it. But he knew she didn’t believe his hand-waving denial. He wasn’t fine, she knew it.

“Okay,” she sipped her drink and eyed him suspiciously.

He was looking at the papers on his desk and every little negative number made his heart skip a beat.

This wasn’t healthy.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

That wasn’t helping him either. How perceptive she was and knowing exactly what he was feeling. It was almost annoying that she could do it. All he wanted to do was hide his feelings from her the way he was supposed to, and she made it so difficult.

God, she was perfect.

He nodded silently, not looking up at her because if he did, she would read him like an open book. She would praise him and tell him he was perfect. He didn’t want that. It was stupid, but he needed to believe it himself. It was partially his own fault. Styles Inc. suffered very few hiccups other than getting up and running. Back when he had just graduated, and he had stuffed every penny he had into the two offices he and Niall needed to get started. It grew before his eyes. He believed he was important and doing important things. He knew he was talented and doing well.

Almost having to fire her was the worst wakeup call.

“Harry,” her voice broke his thoughts again.

“Yeah, kitten?” He hummed trying to admire the green numbers on the spreadsheet before him. They were large and lovely. The red ones amounted to next to nothing in comparison. But it didn’t matter. They were terrifying.

“Baby, I just asked you if you think I should go out for drinks with a client that keeps hitting on me so that we can get a bigger contract from him, and you said that was a good idea.”

His head snapped up. Jealousy pierced his heart and ran hot through his blood in seconds. “What client hits on you?” He scowled. They were dropping said client. Effective immediately. Not even feeling like an impostor would deter him from that kind of behavior. It wouldn’t matter if they were his biggest client either. If they were hitting on her—

“You really think a client would be stupid enough to hit on me knowing you’re my boyfriend?” She asked a slight smirk on her lips.

He ran a hand over his face. Of course they wouldn’t. Harry had a scary side, and everyone knew it. If they even tried to flirt with her Harry would probably break their neck. The little jealous monster inside of his head was more powerful than the worm that told him he wasn’t talented, and he could lose it all at a moment’s notice.

And he hated that word lately. He needed to add another reminder on his phone to remedy that immediately as well. Boyfriend. It was so childish sounding. He was a successful businessman, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who made him feel like... well... like he deserved to own such a successful company. Fiancé. Husband. That had a nicer ring to it. He needed to fix that soon.

“Harry,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” she was blushing. Looked away as she sat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.

He sighed and smiled tiredly. “Course,” he really looked at her again, not just spaced out like he had been doing. The way her hair fell, the way her lip gloss coated her straw. The way her nail polish chipped—he would send her for a manicure (with Eleanor so she’d actually go) even though she preferred when Harry painted them—hence the chipping.

Harry was so captivated by her. It did seem like a crime that he hadn’t given her his full attention during their coffee break. Part of him thought she should model for offices or office furniture. It was sexist and lizard-brained of him. But she was so pretty it was the only thing he could think of in that moment. Then he considered the notion of her being a professor or a doctor—even though he knew she wasn’t qualified for it. But it didn’t matter. He suspected she could do it without training. She was too lovely. The fact that she was intelligent and beautiful and nice was unfair. He didn’t deserve something so good when he could lose the biggest reason she was in his life. “You’re so pretty, kitten.”

Her cheeks turned red again. Harry thought he would explode. “Don’t change the subject.”

“M’not,” he pouted. She did the cute little nose wrinkle that made Harry’s heart skip a beat the same way the negative numbers on spreadsheets did but this time he didn’t mind.

“Your brain has been elsewhere during this whole meeting—”

“Can y’please stop calling it a meeting, kitten?” he grumbled. It felt so wrong to call it a meeting when he was in love with her. Like he needed a corporate excuse to have her sit in his office.

“Pretenses, baby. Don’t want anyone to know I’m your second favorite.”

He grunted, running a hand over his face as the irritation sank in again because of her words. “Niall is not m’favorite.”

She smiled impishly. Her cheeks looked like little apples that Harry wanted to kiss and take bites out of. Her eyes danced with mischievousness that he thought she could only have learned from Louis.

He loved her so much.

Which was why he was so mad that he was worried. If this company suffered the thought of letting her down, of telling her that he wasn’t successful anymore. He met her only because he did well and was successful. How would she love him if that wasn’t true anymore?

“Harry, I’m going to drag you to the hospital if you don’t tell me.”

“Can we talk ‘bout it at home?”

She frowned. “Oh, it’s not work related?” She asked.

He shook his head, confused as to how she would conclude such a thing. “What do y’mean?”

“Well... if it was work-related, you would tell me now. You only tell me relationship-related things at home. Which means now I have to go back to my office and conference call Louis and Eleanor and pull Niall from his work so we can discuss where I’m going to live because you can’t take the sound of me singing in the shower anymore. What’s worse is Louis will agree and he won’t want me to live with him and Eleanor either. Then I’ll have to find my own place and it won’t have room for a porch swing and—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kitten, shut up,” he sighed. She smiled sweetly, unperturbed by the way he said it because he sounded exhausted with her, which was almost definitely her goal. He knew she liked to annoy him—even when he was already suffering internally.

“I don’t want to say it’s your fault, baby. But if you would just tell me what—”

“I don’t feel successful.”

She tilted her head at him curiously. “You don’t?”

He shook his head feeling the nerves in every inch of his skeleton. Right down to the bone. Past the bone. Probably to the atoms or even further to each proton and neutron. Telling her made it real. Telling her anything meant he had to deal with what he was feeling because she wouldn’t let him brush it away.

She was about as bad as the worm in his head.

“Okay,” she nodded. Then there was silence.

They stared at each other for a significant moment. Harry thought it could have been ten minutes, but it might have only been ten seconds. “You’re not going t’say anything?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I could,” she smiled gently. Almost pitifully. It made Harry feel the slightest bit worse. But then she made it better. Of course she did. She made everything seem so... simple. In the best way. A point of view he hadn’t considered. “I could ask you why. Or tell you how it’s not true—all of which I do believe. But I actually think it’s kind of more serious than that. I think you went through a really difficult thing. It piled and piled and you dealt with it. More than anyone here. Because you care and love this place with everything in you,” she listed. “I think you’ll need to talk to someone more qualified than me to fully deal with it. But I will list every reason why you’re completely, totally, and simply wrong another time. When you’re not so sad looking and it won’t fall on deaf ears,” she assured him with a pointed expression that he had fallen in love with so many times over it was uncanny.

Had he mentioned he loved her so much?

“Oh,” he murmured.

She stood up, moved around his desk and leaned against the edge in front of him. Her eyes didn’t move from his and she brought a hand to his face, traced the curve of his jaw, the soft pink lips she loved so much. “Why are you worried you’re not successful?” She asked.

She really knew where to hit him where it hurt. “Y’won’t love me...if m’not successful.”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby—”

“I know,” he turned into her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “But I... I only met y’because m’successful. If m’not... then...”

“You know I don’t love you because you have money, right? We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” he nodded. “Really, I do. But s’like...there’s something in m’brain, kitten. I can’t turn it off and m’exhausted. After all that... I mean... y’saw. It was reallybad. Like really bad. M’still kind of worried and—what are you doing?”

“Turning your brain off,” she smiled, full of mischief once more as she slunk down to her knees. She wiggled into the space of his desk where he normally pushed his chair in. “Surely you’ve thought about this?” She asked, her hand sliding up his thigh.

Harry was suddenly illiterate. And mute. What was she talking about? Were they talking about something? The only thing he could hear was his uneven breath and the clinking sound of his belt and zipper. “Oh,” he groaned as her lips mouthed at the outline of his dick against his briefs.

“Cause I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

“You have?” He murmured dumbly.

She nodded, looking up at him from between his legs, crammed under his desk. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even imagined before thirty seconds prior and there she was: making it come true. Her lashes seemed so long, and her hand was massaging him through his underwear. His heart was pounding. All thoughts of negative numbers were gone.

She deserved a raise.

Her fingers hooked around his underwear, and she tugged on them, pulling him free. He didn’t even realize he was straining against the fabric. Within seconds her lips enveloped around him, and she sucked quickly. Hard. Everything was warm and wet instantly.

Harry had done this before with the companions he had found on the very website he found her, but he wished he never had because this was her. She was so perfect. She was everything he wanted. She was beneath his desk making him feel important and it was so ridiculous for him to feel that way but it worked. It was working.

Her mouth was meant to be around him. At least that was the way it felt. It never felt like this. She didn’t even care about herself. Which was fine because Harry would return whatever she gave him now plus interest. For the first time in a year, he felt utterly relaxed. Her head bobbing up and down the length of him. He put a hand on the back of her head, and she moaned softly sending a vibration through him and up to his chest. His cheeks felt hot. Not that he was embarrassed. But it was so much rapid blood flow. Everywhere. He was going to lose his mind.

There was a knock on the door.

She froze but didn’t remove her mouth from him. Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, carefully tucked himself further the edge of his desk without bumping her too much or crushing her. “Yeah?” He called tentatively.

Her lips focused on the tip of him making him struggle to maintain his composure.

“She’s not here?” Niall frowned from the doorway.

Harry shook his head staring at the screen trying not to let his best friend know that his girlfriend and Niall’s very favorite coworker was crammed beneath his desk and sucking him for all he was worth. Even though Niall was right there. “Ran an errand,” her tongue slid down the underside of him silently. He cleared his throat, shifted. Hoping she wouldn’t torture him in front of his best friend. When did she get so brave?

Oh. Traditional. That’s what that meant. Harry thought to himself.

“When she gets back can you ask her where the file from yesterday’s meeting is? I don’t want to mess with her organizational system,” she dug her nails into his thigh not very hard but so her presence was known. As if the thought of Niall messing with her system really was the worst thing he could do in that moment.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” Harry chuckled. But the movement made him shift in her mouth which nearly sent him cross-eyed. He cleared his throat again.

“You okay? She’s been worried about you.”

“M’fine,” he rolled his eyes.

She silently sucked harder as if to prove a point. Moved him further down her throat. Harry took a deep breath to maintain any semblance of control he had left over the situation. Which was very little.

“I like that she worries about you.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Harry muttered. To both of them.

“When are you going to marry her?” Niall asked.

That paused her. She released him, peered up through those sinful lashes and smiled more mischievously than he had ever seen. Harry shifted. Silently and blindly lining himself up with her mouth again to keep her from saying I knew it or just generally giving herself away in front of Niall. She obligingly took his length down her throat again and it was a miracle she didn’t make a sound with the amount of spit lodged in her mouth. “Soon,” he assured Niall.

“She left her cell in the office,” he said. “Hopefully she’s with the driver or something.”

“Yeah, I called for him,” he wanted Niall out. “What time are we teeing off tomorrow?” He asked the last bout of normalcy he had left in him. Her lips were dragging so slowly over him it felt nearly painful. The moment Niall left he was going to come.

“Nine fifteen.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be by later for the new account model for—” He coughed as her fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, reaching for the space of his cock that didn’t fit in her mouth as well as underneath— “Excuse me,” he covered his mouth over the fake cough before dropping his hand to his lap—her head—and pushed ever so slightly toward the back of her throat. Fortunately, his phone rang. Niall nodded waving him off; allowing him to tend to his phone call—that he was not going to answer.

“I got it,” he assured him and closed the door.

Harry yanked from her mouth, shoved from the desk, barely pulling his pants up at all. He hurried across his office to twist the lock on his door. Once turned around, she was already there, knelt before him again and sucking him into her warm mouth again. Sucking hard. It was probably loud. Wet. Anyone that happened to be by his door at that moment would know what was happening on the other side. Maybe they would make a rumor. Maybe they would assume it was her—neither of which Harry wanted. “Not here, kitten,” he groaned quietly and lifted her begrudgingly from her knees. He pulled her toward the bathroom. He briefly thought of the first time he was in there with her, knelt himself, to take her shoe off and Louis and Eleanor assumed he was prepared to do something he loved doing to her and strongly considered doing it again. Just as he lifted her bum onto the counter she stopped him.

“Nope,” she slid down again. Knelt once more. “Said it was turning your brain off,” she reminded him. Her lips around his dick once again. Now, with an office separating them from the rest of the company, she openly slurped. Made obscene noises that would satisfy him just fine on business trips where he didn’t get to take her with him and leave him with nothing but fantasies before falling asleep in a lonely hotel room. He slammed the bathroom door shut just for further privacy.

He groaned lowly, meeting the bob of her head as gently as he could so as not to cause her to struggle but enjoying the warmth of her mouth and throat. Her lips looked so sexy around him he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. “Love,” he tilted his head back. “Y’need to—”

“Shh,” she pulled back, pressing the most chaste of kisses along his length which was an oxymoron. “Just worry about you,” she hummed. “Please?”

Harry groaned his hands gathering her hair at the back of her head as she slipped her mouth down as much of him as she could take and it felt so good it made him

“Aw fuck, kitten, s’good,” he groaned and held her in place as he released in her mouth. His breath was ragged, his hips stuttering slightly. She continued sucking even though it was sensitive. Even though it was more than he deserved.

“Do you really think I would stop loving you because you didn’t have money?” She asked, fluttering her lashes. Voice the slightest bit hoarser.

He lifted her from her knees, putting her on the counter again and shoved her dress up to her hips. Thank God she wore a dress. “This underwear is ripped,” he grumbled.

She frowned. “It is? It’s my favorite I didn’t notice a rip when I put them on this mor—”

But she didn’t realize he was predicting the future. He pulled on the nylon cotton blend with so much force her already hoarse voice died in her throat. He groaned, tossing them on the floor. He lined himself up with her entrance and brought her bum to the edge so the sharp corner dug into her flesh. It would leave a bruise and the only thought that was left in her head was that Harry would kiss it and make it better later.

His length slid inside her so effortlessly. She should have been embarrassed how turned on she was sucking him off—especially when Niall got to the office but she couldn’t help it. Now the length that had felt so good in her throat was making her core ache. He thrusted into her quickly. Hardly letting her breathe or realize what was happening, but it felt so good. She was moaning into the curve of shoulder. Clinging to him. “Baby, I—”

“S’good kitten. S’good. I love you so fucking much,” his hips were relentless. All thought escaping her mind. A fire could have broken out in the shower and she wouldn’t have moved—couldn’t have moved.

“Oh wow,” she sighed as Harry pulled her closer to him—her legs wound around his waist. Her butt barely on the counter. Her eyes fluttered with each thrust. “Oh, oh my God,” she moaned. “You’re—”

“Gonna come on m’cock, kitten,” it was a question. Or a command. She didn’t know. It was both. Neither. Part of her wondered if he even said anything.

But she did. She did come on his cock. Hard. She fluttered around him for what felt like minutes. Hours. Centuries. Color ceased to have meaning. There was no sound. That was heaven. She was sure. A blasphemous thought that she didn’t even have the strength to laugh about because she was deliriously good.

Her voice was hoarser than only moments before. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her breath shaky as he pushed her further back toward the mirror at the end of the counter behind the sink. Further from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could only imagine what he had done to her hair. But his pupils were massive. His lips pinker than ever. His chest heaved.

Clearing her throat, she gently tucked him back into his pants. Then tucked in his shirt too. With the same delicateness as she did with his cock. It was intoxicating. Made him want to go another thousand rounds with her. “So, in conclusion,” she whispered. “I will love you whether you have a kajillion dollars or one dollar,” she looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“That was very sexy, kitten,” his eyelids practically fluttered.

“I...” she cleared her throat. “I surprised myself, actually.”

“We should do this more often,” he pulled her skirt down and brought her closer to the edge of the counter again. She hissed at the contact against the bruise that was definitely forming. He frowned. “Oh, love m’sorry,” he cupped her face and gazed at her. “Was I too rough? I shouldn’t have—”

“Harry, if I didn’t fear for the stability of my leg muscles I would probably bend over your desk for you.” He swore under his breath. “You did bruise my butt though.”

“No good deed,” he mumbled and lifted her gently from the counter. His hand cupping her backside and gently rubbing each cheek as if it were normal. But it felt normal.

She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly. “Niall’s going to see right through me,” she murmured.

“I’ll fire him again if he makes y’uncomfortable.”

She snorted and laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are my favorite person Harry Styles. I love you so much. Even if you ruined my favorite pair of underwear.”

He smiled as mischievously as she had earlier in the day. “I’ll buy you more...a hundred pairs of them. Then I’ll ruin them all again,” he promised, then pressed his mouth firmly against hers. A gentle, soft kiss in comparison to all they did in the span of half an hour. “I love you too.”

She grinned. “Say it again.”

He shook his head at her, kissed her forehead, effectively turning her to mush, which was probably his plan so she couldn’t deny his next request. “Stop calling our coffee break a meeting.”

But her senses were returning. The ones that weren’t primal and horny about how massive Harry’s dick was in her mouth. She was going to say something funny; he could see it in the glint in her eye. “Well, I can’t put ‘sex’ on your calendar now can I?”

--

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[grandline-fics]

hi! i just read all of your oneshots and they’re perfect, i’m in love. hoping it is okay to request something with zoro having a soft spot towards reader? he doesn’t even realize it a first, but since reader is somehow quiet and gentle (not weak though!) he starts to take note of small things to do/don’t do or notice their actions (ex: taking care o the crew) a lot more than others. thank you. <3

DESCRIPTION: Who knew you were Zoro’s soft spot? Apparently both of you are the last to know 

WARNINGS: none, just pure fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 856

A/N:  Thank you for your kind words and for this request! I hope it's to your liking. I've been feeling a little under the weather these past couple of days so some fluff was needed <3

MASTERLIST

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

It’s tiny things; little, practically meaningless things that are so easy to miss but they’re there. When you first joined the crew, your presence fell into the likes of his and Robin’s; strong but relatively quiet and easily looked passed if you wanted. You didn’t see the point in wasting energy needlessly and knew the value in waiting until letting yourself be known. Zoro unknowingly enjoyed that kind of calm you naturally brought and found himself gravitating towards it because it seemed even when he was in his own space you were still in his eye-line. In the beginning he found it a little strange that it kept happening, he knew you weren’t following him. Hell most of the times you were on the other side of the ship or talking with someone else so he cleared it as coincidence and thought nothing of it. As time went on, there was a lot he was putting down to mere coincidence. 

When you were all exploring new islands it was purely happenstance that you two walked side by side. Neither of you were the type to bound about and race ahead without a cause for urgency. He found he didn’t get lost as easily when you were close. You always seemed to know the way to go. On one trip Brook had commented to Zoro how lucky he had been that you were there to talk to him at the right moment otherwise he would have kept walking towards a path that would have taken him towards a ravine. Because of your voice suddenly pulling him into conversation he’d kept the right track and avoided possibly injuring himself and getting a lecture from the others. Lucky right?

It was also luck of the draw that when eating or drinking off the ship, Zoro was sat at the table in such a way that his back blocked you mostly from view from any unwanted stares. It was never in a subconscious way to keep you from interacting with others but it was like another sense he had that he was able to tell when you just wanted to sit with the crew and enjoy your meal. It seemed to go both ways too in that regard. If women tried to approach and flirt with him you effortlessly had a way of making a joke to dissuade them and steer them in Sanji’s direction. Was any of it done out of jealousy, possessiveness of the other’s attention, or an overwhelming need to protect? Not in the least, it was just doing what needed to be done to help out a friend and fellow crew-mate.

On the Sunny it’s no different. It’s not even a second thought, his body just reacts without thinking. In the early, barely waking hours when he’s finished his night watch and is about to grab a quick snack before training he always pulls out a specific mug from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. It’s never for him and like clockwork you appear just as he’s finished drinking a glass of water. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stifling a small yawn you always offer him a small smile and greeting that is returned. You both pass each other, your only motivation is caffeine to see you through the last of the watch before everyone else is awake while he goes to the crow’s nest to train. 

After all this time it’s never occurred to you to question why your mug is waiting for you when you rise. You don’t know why but it’s something that immediately makes your morning a little bit brighter. It’s also routine now that an hour or so after breakfast, you and Zoro both nap; him to rest between his training sessions and you to grab another couple hours after your night watch. Nami occasionally glances up from her charts to shake her head at your sleeping forms. Robin finds it adorable while Brook chuckles, nostalgic over youth and love’s first stages. 

“Jeez they’re both so clueless.” Sanji grumbles, he’s accepted long ago that he doesn’t have a chance with you but is so infuriated that nothing has actually happened. He lost you to the swordsman who hasn’t even thought to make a move. Usopp grins and watches as you stir slightly in your sleep which in turn makes Zoro react before his body relaxes again. Currently he’s lying on his back with one hand tucked behind his head. While the other that’s draped over his chest, his fingers almost touching yours that are curled by your head as you sleep on your side. 

From his spot on Sunny’s head, Luffy grins. “I don’t know. I think they do know, in their own way.” It’s the little, insignificant things that you both do for each other that are easy to miss and while a lot of little things add up into something bigger, none of it compares to the way that you and Zoro unknowingly look at each other at any given chance. Because that is something so big that no one else can ignore. 

[joocomics]

Hii can u do what XH likes to do or how they’ll act if they’re jealous? Thank you!

cw: none

a/n: this might be a little bit messy, but expressing my thoughts on more angsty topics like this isn’t my strongest point when it’s not a drabble oof i apologise in advance if this isn’t what you expected, anonie! even a bit over the place i still hope you enjoy the read. ty for stopping by 🫶🏼

♡ gunil

i think he’d be good at hiding it, so if it happens a few times - most of them you might not notice that he’s being jealous until later. but it really depends on the situation and the person he’s being irritated by. i see him pretty protective as a boyfriend, and if someone is really getting on his nerves he might turn quiet and reserved; just thinking about how he wants to drag you out of the place with a hand on your waist cause he hates how they’re looking at you. after you’re finally left alone his feelings would immediately show, and he wouldn’t try to hide them; he couldn’t even if he tried. he’d sit down to talk to you about it, and after you assure him there’s nothing to worry about he’d calm down, and treat you like a princess till the rest of the night (he always treats you like that but when he’s jealous he really goes all out)

♡ jungsu

it’s a little bit difficult to put my thoughts together when it comes to him. on one side i see him get jealous easily, but then not so much. i see him being more vulnerable when it comes to this in the beginning stages of your to-be-relationship - when you’re in the talking stage, going on dates, but still haven’t talked about anything more than that. when he’s jealous he might overthink things a bit, and contemplate for a while if it’s something that he should bring up or not. that’s why i see him waiting to see if ‘this something’ happens again or grows into something bigger. if not, eventually he would just add it into the conversation lightly without any conflict in mind. when you show him he’s the only one you’re interested in, he most likely would double the physical contact while also putting his arm around you, and grabbing your hand more confidently in public

♡ jiseok/gaon

in a relationship i see him keeping his jealousy moments to himself, and i think those jealousy moments won’t be many tbh. he might even feel good if he catches guys checking you out, cause he knows you’re all his and you would never give those guys even a crumble of your attention. if someone tries to spark a conversation that rubs him the wrong way he’d be extra touchy with you or pull you on his lap, but he won’t feel the urge to bring it up after you’re left alone, cause in his mind that would be unnecessary. if you make him feel secure and loved, then i don’t see him paying too much attention to his temporary sparks of jealousy. he might even make a joke about it to make you laugh, “did you see that guy checking you out? in front of me?!”

♡ seungmin/o.de

i see him a mixture of jiseok and gunil. a part of him would feel good, proud even, that his gorgeous girlfriend is desired by people who can’t have her, but if someone tries to cross a boundary he’d hold you close and change the direction of the conversation. his body language when he’s with you would always be enough of a sign that you’re together, and there’s a chance depending on the situation he might get overprotective, but in a subtle way if that even makes sense? he wouldn’t want to ruin your mood on the spot or make you uncomfortable, so he would wait for you to get home and talk about it. the conversation would be chill and would end in a lot of soft kisses and i love you-s

♡ hyeongjun/junhan

oh he would be so obvious when he’s jealous. it won’t be difficult for you to catch him cause the emotions would be written all over his serious face. if you ask him about it he’d do his best to convince you he’s not jealous at all, cause he wouldn’t want to seem insecure in front of you. he’d laugh it off, but on the inside he’d be thinking about it all day, especially if you’re still not officially together; if you are it would fade down more quickly. he wouldn’t get extra touchy or something like that like the rest of the members, because he’d be too much in his head; he wouldn’t want anyone to notice (even though he suddenly goes quiet in the middle of the conversation?)

♡ jooyeon

i just have to bring up the perilla leaf debate here, and how quick he was with his answer - that his s/o will not help out his guy friend with separating those leaves. even if this clip didn’t exist i’d still be a firm believer that he’s the jealous type of boyfriend. he’d get jealous easily, and you’d always notice the subtle changes in his mood. he’d never do anything to frustrate you during the moment, and he’d try his best to be chatty and all with a hand on your thigh or around your shoulder. he’d play with your hair, with your hand, and he’d lean in your ear to whisper you things all of a sudden. people who know him well can always tell when he’s being jealous, but those who don’t wouldn’t notice a thing. he’d most likely be grumpy and extra affectionate after you get home

[spiderlandry]

Routine — ethan landry

Description: Ethan feels you slowly drift away as you spend time with another person.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader (they/them pronouns)

Warnings: unedited, kinda wordy, fluff, jealousy, some angst but happy ending

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s note: can u guess who reader’s chem partner is ??

Tradition and routine are important to Ethan Landry. Since you’ve made the decision to have lunch with him every Wednesday at the diner a few blocks from his apartment, he eventually begins to expect you to show up there without a text message. It’s routine, now. It’s a tradition—and he didn’t realize how sacred it was to him until his phone pings with a text from you on a Wednesday:

hey im sorry i cant make it to lunch i got assigned a small project in chem and its partners :/ and we could only find a time for today (ugh) lunch next wednesday?

sorry again. have a good lunch!! dont have too much fun without me tho

He’s not bothered. Why would he be? You sound like you’d rather be with him than working on that project, so he’s flattered in that aspect that you sound somewhat possessive with the, ‘don’t have too much fun’.

It’s not like he’s already at the diner already.

(He was on his way.)

But it’s only a blip in the hundred other moments you spend with him, even if those moments are also spent with other people present.

So he doesn’t take it to heart. Even if his heart slightly aches without you beside him, almost a symptom of withdrawal, which he won’t realize until much, much later.

-

Ethan often spends time in the main library on Friday nights. He’s not a stranger to the usual people who also spend their time there, there’s not a lot of people because there are better things for a college student to do on Friday nights. Ethan is different. Although, he only started going on Friday nights because midterms are soon and he can’t afford to fail or retake anything.

However, a familiar figure comes into the library next to a tall stranger. You, with some guy, trying to playfully shush him as you enter the quiet space earning some dirty looks from students around.

You lightly slap the stranger’s arm with a grin, and you don’t see Ethan—he’s sitting in a corner and you’re turned away from him.

There’s no denying that the stranger is handsome. Tall, brown hair, somewhat dorky mannerisms but in a charming way. Ethan could be in love with this guy if he himself isn’t so in love with you.

Ethan opts to look down at his work instead, eyes almost unfocused as the thought of losing his chance being brought to the forefront of his mind.

What he doesn’t see a few seconds later, between the shelves, slightly closer to Ethan, you finally spot him. He doesn’t see the way your smile droops slightly, and how the man next to you asks who you’re staring at.

“Oh,” you whisper to your chemistry partner, Peter, “That’s Ethan. The guy I told you about.”

“You’d look good together.” He teases.

You almost kick him jokingly, but he dodges. “Just because I told you my crush doesn’t mean you get to tease me. Plus, if you do, I’ll tell Gwen about yours.”

But of course, this conversation happens outside of Ethan’s earshot. You’re not looking at him anymore, and as he glances up one more time, he only sees the smile directed at that stranger that used to be reserved for him on Wednesday afternoons.

Yeah, I’ve lost my chance, Ethan thinks.

-

Ethan has decided to spend more time with his friends. It has nothing to do with you, not at all. (It’s not denial.) He lounges in the Carpenter apartment on Saturday night with Chad and Tara. Mindy was also supposed to be there, but texted last minute she can’t make it.

They assure him he’s not third-wheeling, but he definitely is.

But he stops himself before he suggests he can leave. He gives it a chance, because otherwise he would be alone in the dorm—and on a normal occasion he’d leave and call you instead, but he has a feeling your voice will only draw him back to the reliance of your presence. You haven’t talked since Wednesday, since that text message that Ethan believes is the beginning of the end.

Chad notices Ethan’s faraway look, they’re both sitting on the couch while Tara gets a drink from the kitchen.

“You okay, man?” His roommate snaps him out of the daze. “You seem sad.”

“I’m not.” Ethan has answered that too quickly to either of their liking, but it goes unmentioned.

“You can talk to me. If you want.”

Chad’s become more emotionally available since the first time they moved in together, Ethan appreciates that his friend makes an effort even if it seems to take some work. So Ethan humours him.

“Y/N. They’re spending time with this guy and I just—I don’t know.”

Tara comes back with a few sodas, handing one to him and to her boyfriend.

“Y/N?” She echoes, sipping from her drink. “You mean they’re spending time with Peter?”

Ethan realizes maybe he shouldn’t have said anything because Tara’s close to you and if he says something she might say something—

“I won’t tell them.” She says, sensing Ethan’s panic. “They’re just friends, if you’re wondering.”

Chad is grateful for his girlfriend stepping in. She certainly knows more, at least in that respect.

“Aren’t they chem partners, or something?” Chad asks her, wanting to alleviate the tension he can sense on his best friend. He remembers Tara offhandedly mentioning it one time.

(Let’s be honest, anything Tara knows, Chad knows too.)

“Well,” Tara prevents herself from a grimace. “They were partners. Y/N told me they finished the project. So now they’re just friends.”

It has the opposite effect that Chad had wanted.

It only lets Ethan know that it won’t be long until you introduce this Peter to the group as your boyfriend, probably.

“Can we change the subject?” Ethan requests.

He’s thankful as they adamantly jump into another topic about something funny that happened recently, an inkling deep in his soul that they did it on purpose to make him laugh—a hint of relief as he thinks, friendship isn’t that bad. (It’s good.) You and him could still be friends, he thinks. And that’s what he wants, for you to be in his life in any capacity, long as you’d let him.

-

Sunday nights are movie nights in the Carpenter household. And that tradition is extended to the entire group, including you. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous—his palms are sweating, his legs are bouncing, and his mind is anywhere else besides the present.

You arrive late, and the movie hasn’t started because they’re waiting for you.

Ethan thinks Chad or somebody must have done it on purpose, because the only empty seat on the couch is the one right next to him.

Obviously, you take it. The proximity is almost too much for Ethan, but he’d be a damn liar if he said it didn’t help his anxiety just a little bit. You take away his nerves after they appear in the absence of you. You’re his medicine.

The movie starts and you still don’t say anything to each other. He ignores the looks from Chad and Tara, and you seem to be oblivious to it as you keep your eyes on the television.

By the second movie, you’ve both gotten more comfortable, leaning into each other— and to Ethan’s surprise, you put your head on his shoulder. He looks around and no one notices. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re all asleep.

You fit so perfectly almost as if you’d been like this before, in a different lifetime of another universe.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, you had your own intent coming into this movie night, late on purpose and nerves taking away your courage in the absence of Ethan.

SUNDAY MORNING

Sometimes, you’d invite someone to get coffee with you when mornings were pleasant enough to be with other people.

Today, Tara said she was available to get coffee after you’d sent a text to the group chat asking if anyone wanted to come—so you got coffee with her.

It wasn’t your intention, but still, you end up at her apartment half an hour later, chatting about what’s happened in the week.

Somehow the topic of dating has come up, and Tara rambles about Chad’s funny ideas about dates that you laugh at.

Much to your dismay, the question tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. “How do I know if I’m in love with someone?”

She can’t read your face, it’s blank. But she can read your tone: the layer of uneasiness and worry that you’re trying to hard to bury and keep hidden. She tries her best not to show any emotion, either. Because there could only be two possible answer to the question Tara is about to ask.

“Who are you in love with?”

“Who said I was?” Quick answer, deflect the question.

“You’re thinking it, though.”

“So what if I am?”

And she just decides to lay it on the table. “Is it Peter?”

Your instinct is to laugh, because from your perspective, not a universe exists where you and Peter have any romantic connection. And you say, “Why would it be Peter?”

Tara realizes you’re serious pretty quickly. “Everybody thinks that.”

Your face drops, brows furrow. “Seriously?” Tara nods.

“Does Ethan think that?”

Tara smiles.

She has her answer.

PRESENT

The feeling of being close to him is intoxicating. You snake your hand toward his, playing with it until you loosely begin to hold his hand.

Your hand in mine feels right, he thinks. For a split second, his breath is stolen, but the tiny space between your palms get warm—he can breathe—and the warmness travels throughout Ethan’s body and suddenly he wants to verbalize every unspoken word from each interaction with you, but all words come back to I love you I love you I love you.

But there is one thing.

“What about...” He whispers, gulps. “Peter?”

And that’s when you finally look up at him and he turns his head to face yours—a mistake—you are much too close for his heart not to burst. He can feel your breath and he’s sure you can feel his, and there’s nothing else he can think of as he waits with bated breath for your response.

“Why would I wanna be with him when I want to be with you?”

You say it so casually, so surely, as if you’re certain nothing can take away that statement—that truth—from your grasp. The tone catches him so off guard that his words are lost for a moment.

Your eyes aren’t expectant in that moment, though waiting. You’re patient, as if you know what he’s going to say.

“Will—” he tries to be quiet, “will you go on a date with me?” Your smile gets impossibly wider and it mirrors his.

“Always.”

Tara, laying next to Chad nearby—pretending to be asleep—suppresses a grin of her own.

Additional A/N: personally i think their first date is at the diner !! and the diner staff see the progression of their relationship every wednesday lol and yes the chem partner is peter parker (specifically had andrew’s peter in mind, i think that’s clear with the ‘tall’ if not the gwen part LMAO)

[turtletaubwrites]

The Sounds You Made ~ Part 3.5

Thank you so much @vespidphoenix for the inspiration, I hope you enjoy it!

This mini fic can be read on it's own, or read after part 3 of We've All Got Needs, linked below.

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1422

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Sanji overhears you discussing and enjoying your casual arrangement with Zoro. He doesn't like the way Zoro talks to you, so he listens in to make sure you're okay.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Voyeurism, Casual Sex, Masturbation, Penis in Vagina Sex, Pet Names, Jealousy, Cigarettes, they’re gross, don’t smoke, Sanji’s a perv

A/N: I hope you enjoy Sanji's version of the night! This was a lot of fun to write 😊

Sanji yawned, running through his prep list for the kitchen before he could call it a night. Putting out his cigarette, he walked back through the quiet ship, heading toward the galley. 

His hand was almost touching the swinging door, but froze as he heard your voice. 

“-need to agree that if either of us starts to feel uncomfortable or hurt, we need to talk about it, and reassess.”

Brows tensing, Sanji almost stepped inside, but he heard movement, and a low, smug voice. 

“Sounds good, Needy. But I don’t think anything would stop you from begging for this dick.”

Sanji’s body was on fire, and he was about to charge through the door feet first until he heard you moan softly.

Sanji’s breath was gone, and he leaned against the wall beside the door. That sweet sound was like a shock through him, and he winced at the pulse in his suddenly hard cock. 

Trying to focus, Sanji leaned his ear toward the door, hearing parts of Zoro’s hoarse whisper. 

“-fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk…”

Sanji’s blood was boiling, he wanted to kick Zoro’s teeth in before he could speak to you so roughly again. 

But you gasped louder this time, the pure beauty of it sending his eyes rolling back as he tried to stay on his feet. 

Sanji didn’t want to let this green haired barbarian harm a hair on your head, but he couldn’t interrupt the pleasure you were clearly enjoying. He didn’t want to get in the way of your desires. 

But I have to make sure she’s alright, right? I have to make sure she’s safe.

That pleading voice in his own mind felt sweeter than cigarettes, the temptation being excused with chivalry. 

He realized that he’d been too busy lying to himself to listen closely, but now slowed his breath to hear more of your innocent voice, and Zoro’s boorish demands. 

“Tell me how much you want me to fuck you right now.”

You didn’t answer him, and Sanji’s mind went wild. Of course she doesn’t want to fuck a brute like him. He’s disgusting, she’s-

“Don’t lie, pretty girl. Aren’t we here to be honest with each other.”

Sanji was seconds away from charging in, until he had to cover his mouth to keep from moaning at the sound of your heavenly voice. 

“I need you to fuck me right now.”

Sanji leaned his head against the doorframe, his cock throbbing so much it almost hurt. 

She’s perfect. 

Sanji lost himself for a moment, reaching his hand down to cup himself over his slacks, fighting to keep in a desperate moan. 

His eyes flew wide as he realized Zoro was pulling you out of the galley. 

Sanji had seconds to decide where to go, choosing to practically leap toward the exit. He pulled out a cigarette in case you saw him, he could pretend he was going out for a smoke. 

But there was no need. Zoro was gripping your arm, pulling you in the opposite direction. 

He’s too rough with her. 

Rage burned through Sanji at the sight of Zoro’s harsh fingers on your skin. He remembered your moan, remembered that you wanted this, otherwise he would have kicked the first mate’s face into the wall. 

But she still might need me- need somebody. He might hurt her. I should make sure she’s okay. 

Sanji let himself believe his reasons as he stalked toward you, moving towards the quarters. He had heard Zoro’s door close, and almost went to it before he saw you. 

Flattening himself against the wall, he saw you hiding alone. Your eyes kept darting down the hallway, until you seemed lost in thought. 

I should go to her. I can give her what she needs. I can take care of her. 

Before Sanji could push himself forward, he watched you make the choice to sneak into Zoro’s room. 

She really does want him. 

Disappointment sickened his gut, but Sanji’s mind didn’t let it stay. 

He's still too rough. I’ll stay, just to make sure she’s safe. 

Sanji kept a cigarette in one hand, his excuse if anyone saw him in the hall. And then he leaned against the thin wall, tilting his ear toward Zoro’s door. 

I’m so sick- no I’m doing this for her. He’s too rough with her, she might need help.

“Show me that tasty cunt of yours, Y/N. I’m gonna ruin it for anyone else.”

Sanji’s fists clenched, his cigarette falling to the floor. 

But he heard your little whines, and his head fell back against the wall. 

“Fuck me, Zoro. I wanna feel you.”

Sanji’s eyes were closed as he listened to Zoro chuckle softly, but then he strained to hear more. 

I should go. She wants this. 

He almost left, he swore he was going to leave. 

Then your beautiful little noises floated through the door. 

She’s got something in her sweet mouth, muffling, fuck, muffling those needy moans. 

Sanji’s body started moving on its own, minute thrusting happening against his will. The desperate soft sounds you let out seemed to be made just for him. 

The wet sounds of your body became louder, and it was too much. 

She’s so perfect. Fuck, those sounds…

Sanji couldn’t lie to himself this time. He bit his lip as he grasped his cock, already so hard and ready. Ready to give her what she really needs.  

Zoro’s voice cut into his reverie.

“Who’s making you feel like this?”

“You are, Zoro. You feel… unf, so…”

“That’s right, Y/N. Say you don’t want anyone else in this greedy cunt but me.”

Sanji’s hand spasmed around his cock at that demand.

Don’t say it, angel, don’t lie. He’s not the only one you want. 

“Say it. Say my cock is the only one your hungry pussy wants.”

Sanji was stroking himself now, rubbing over and over through his dress pants.

She’s not lying. She’s too perfect to lie. I can give her what she wants, what she needs.

You stayed silent, and Sanji wanted to worship you for refusing to lie.

“Oh, you’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

Sanji wanted to save you from him, but then your muffled screams did him in. 

Sanji shoved his fist in his mouth, tears streaming from his eyes as he came in his pants. The hot, wet shame of it soaked through to his hand, making him shake. Your quiet screams were still rolling through the door, and he still couldn’t walk away. Not even the stain of his deed could tear him away from the hypnotizing sounds of your pleasure. 

“Fuuck, your pussy is fucking sweet, baby. You take this cock so- unh so well, Needy girl.”

Even the sound of Zoro’s voice wasn’t enough to turn him away. Your muffled screams kept going, and Sanji couldn’t stop touching himself. Even through the damp clothes, and the overstimulation from his release, the sound of your moans was everything. 

She’s perfect. I know I can give her what she needs. I know she can take me. 

Sanji stayed there after your soft screams and moans had stopped. All he heard now was the low rumble of Zoro’s snores, too soon after all your pleasure. 

Did he even care for her? Is she awake in there all alone?

Sanji almost convinced himself to go rescue you from such an inconsiderate lover, but felt the wet evidence of his intrusion on his hand, shaking him out of his fantasy. 

I’ll show her tomorrow. I’ll show her what she deserves, what I can give her. She’s perfect, and I’ll make sure she feels it.

Shivering with his conviction, Sanji made his way through the hall. He’d picked up his cigarette, needing to change his clothes before he could think of anything else. 

But when he got to his room, all Sanji could think of was you, and your sweet, desperate little noises. All the sounds you made. How you’d begged for Zoro to fuck you.

She needs a true lover, someone to give her all the pleasure she can take, everything she needs. 

Sanji tried to strip and clean himself up, but he was already stroking himself again, your soft voice dancing through his mind. 

I’ll take such good care of her. She's so good, I know she can take all of me. I’ll treat her like an angel. 

Sanji’s back arched as he came again, moaning your name. 

Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect. 

Thank You for Reading! 💜

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*Hi tagged friends! I wasn't sure if you'd like to be tagged in the extra scenes without the reader, so please let me know if you'd like me to leave your name out of these going forward.

A/N: I really enjoyed this request, and I plan to try out some more fics focused on other character's perspectives. Let me know what you think, or if there's another part of the series I should flip perspectives on. 

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[a-libra-writes]

Hello Libra, I just like to say that I really love your work and I love how you depict all these characters so well!

I was wondering if you can do some jealousy headcanons for the Lackadaisy characters?

Danke!! GN reader, most reference a relationship or romantic interest.

♣️Rocky - His jealousy is very obvious to anyone who bothers to pay attention. It is not less obvious or pathetic when you're in a relationship, either. Rocky will find any excuse to interrupt you and the other person, scare them off, redirect your attention, and so forth. It can become very distracting and annoying, so it's best to address the problem right away. The jealousy 100% stems from Rocky's fears of abandonment - not that he'd recognize that - so reassuring him and soothing that insecurity helps a lot. Sometimes his jealous reactions are just that, knee-jerk reactions that he doesn't fully think through. It's safe to say the insecurity is less of an issue the longer you both are together, especially if you're already a very affirming and affectionate partner.

♣️Freckle - The big-eyed boy has a quiet, passive jealousy that he may not notice right away. It stems from inadequacy, and he believes himself to be inadequate in many things, especially when it comes to relationships. He doesn't exactly have a lot of experience, you know? It'll be a constant needling build-up, though his uh, night time shooty activities helps get a lot of that aggression out. He's very open to talking things over, but you'd have to bring it up first. Freckle would rather stew in Catholic-level feelings of guilt before ever talking about it; but talks help a lot! Reassuring him goes a long way, and making sure he brings up his negative feelings before they get so bad.

♣️Ivy - While she's quite easygoing and not prone to jealous thoughts that often, when they do pop up, it manifests as an intense "my best-friend-who-I-tooootally-have-platonic-feelings-for-is-dating-someone-new-and-I-suddenly-hate-that-person". She pouts, she plots, she makes her displeasure known to you - she just gets an off feeling from that person. No, it's not mature, and she can get pretty catty about it - but she's also only 18~19. If you're femme then Ivy can easily dismiss her feelings as just missing her best friend - it'll take extra time to realize they aren't entirely platonic. If you both were together and already had conversations about this, that burning jealousy melts away to a little spark she feels now and again. She'll ignore it, knowing it's just a dumb thing that'll pass as soon as you're back at her side.

♣Mitzi - As much as she acts like she's above such things, Mitzi is the same as anyone else in developing jealous feelings. She recognizes them at once and just wants to bury them down, it's so embarrassing. It's even worse if she gets antsy about someone being overly friendly or flirty with you. What is she, a schoolgirl? The anger at herself might irk Mitzi even more than the person whose being so forward with you. She can get quite passive aggressive toward them, coating her barbs with honey - and that might get directed toward you if she feels you're also being too friendly with them. None of this lasts long - Mitzi would rather have a drink and kiss and make up. She's too old too ladylike for this silly nonsense.

♣Viktor - Just because he recognizes what he's feeling doesn't mean the old Slovak processes them in a healthy way (like, at all). To strangers, he's his usual frightening self, but to those who know him they can tell there's a distinct animosity coming off him. He's not a possessive type, but Viktor already feels miserable about himself and that he doesn't deserve you in the slightest - the idea of someone better coming along is not an impossibility. Now, he can't simply grab them by the neck and throw them out a window just for talking .. .and that'd upset you. So Viktor settles for being in a terrible mood until you soothe him. Attempting to talk him through it just makes him feel worse about himself.

♣Zib - Oh, he recognizes it quick, and Zib haaaates feeling this way. It's so pathetic, so annoying. He should be the bigger person, just suck it up and walk away, but ... nah. If he's been drinking, he's absolutely going to make snide comments and act inappropriate. You drag his drunk ass aside and he does feel a little (kinda) bad about he acted ... some days he's better about it. It's so cliche, but he knows what he's like as a partner. He doesn't offer much, and even if you've made it clear you still care about him, the insecurities and negative feelings can dig into him... especially after booze. He perks right up after some cuddling.

♣Atlas - He doesn't show it outwardly at all. Atlas keeps his impassive expression, outsiders can't tell the difference, but you and his two closest triggermen might pick up the iciness in his eyes. Eventually, that frost would melt into his voice. He would consider any jealous feelings beneath him, if he deigned to call them that. Instead, he'd translate it as disrespect: Whoever is being too personal with you and inspiring these feelings is disrespecting him. It's ... probably best that they move on.

🏵Serafine - Jealousy isn't something that comes easily to her. She's too free-spirited, and she doesn't like the idea of holding another down. She'd hate for you to restrict her, so why should she do the same to you? That said, there are a few times when it comes up. There are always those who want to flirt with you and get too close for her liking, but ... it's also fun to watch. She lets the little pangs of jealousy build up until you return to her side, and Serafine will tease you for doing it on purpose. There's a reason she likes to leave lipstick stains and bites on you. Note, if you try to incite jealousy in her on purpose, she'll see it as a game - but if you're seriously trying to provoke something, it's just irksome. Isn't that a bit childish?

🏵Nico - Like his sister, Nico isn't one for jealousy. He's inspired plenty of it and isn't a fan, and like Serafine, he won't tie you down if you don't do the same to him. Truthfully, he has much less patience for it. Some may think he doesn't feel jealous at all; but Nico is actually just good at dealing with it in a healthy way. He waits until you're back at his side and showers extra attention on you - it's pretty funny when the person who was flirting starts glaring at you. As long as you're not intentionally trying to get a rise out of him, he's chill.

🏵Mordecai - He's awful about it, made worse that he refuses to acknowledge it. It really doesn't kick in until you both have this sort-of-kind-of understanding that's a mess to navigate to begin with, never mind if jealousy comes into play. Mordecai both feels it strongly and denies it with as much strength. Some stranger trying to be smooth is irksome, but not the end of the world. But someone who has a sustained relationship with you? Who gets to touch you and be close to you on the regular? Nope. He's argumentative and prickly anytime they come up. By the time he figures out what his feelings are about, he'd rather chew off his own tail than ever bring it up.

🏵Wes - His flavor of jealousy tends to come from either inadequacy or possessiveness. If the person flattering you and getting too close is some idiot he works alongside, you better believe his hackles raise and he puts them in their place. If it's someone he can't immediately beat down, or if they seem ... well, better than him in some way, the jealousy quietly simmers underneath. Your initial attempts to talk it out are bust, considering the time period and his own machismo ... but he can come around once you reassure him. And wait, didn't he want this to be a casual thing? What's he getting so worked up about, anyway?

🏔Wick - When they build up, he quickly recognizes the jealous feelings in himself. It's something Wick is familiar with, and dislikes - as if it's a personal failing, and not a thing everyone goes through. Depending on how long it sticks around, he can become a little withdrawn and even unsure. It just feels so childish, but he's still glad to get some reassurances. He insists it's not necessary, but Wick still gives you that dopey, painfully affectionate smile you're used to. He's also someone who handles it maturely, and they seem to go as quickly as they come. They may linger if there's already some obstacle between you two - maybe he hasn't brought up his feelings, you're masc so he can't be as open with his affection, and so on - but he's still recognizing these negative feelings and willing to work through them.

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Two: I Think I Wanna Marry You

a/n: here’s chapter two of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

-

-

The move itself brings a second dose of reality you never fully thought through.

Seeing Steve there, with his dark BMW, sunglasses on his face. He’s popped the trunk already and it’s with that sudden clarity you’re reminded that it’s happening.

That this is real and not some dream you’ve imagined in your mind.

You’re marrying him. In four weeks. Thirty days, exactly. A countdown to the next three years of your life. The other half of your “paperwork” you’re going to sign when you scribble your name along that certification of your marriage.

You work in comfortable silence. Robin and Nancy come along too for assistance, and with the combination of efforts, Steve’s car is packed in less than two hours. You’re shocked he’s even bothered to do it himself, and not order some sort of moving company. But when you point that out to him, he only shrugs and says he wanted to help.

Apparently it’s the least he can do for getting a wife at the end of all of this.

That and countless zeros on a check that he doesn’t even need or want.

Once your things are all settled in the trunk and backseat, Robin wanders over to where you both stand on the sidewalk, arms looping tight around your frame. She steps back and moves to tousle Steve’s hair, earning a sharp jerk of his body out of contact and an utterance of complaint from the taller man.

With a snort, she says, “You love me, don’t deny it.”

And he does. You know that much. He’s been closer with Robin for a year or so now. A direct result of her relationship with Nancy. Nancy’s job as a journalist, often documenting his life or the accolades of his family, has established a bond between the three. You try to tamper that slight jealousy.

The fact is that both Robin and Eddie have more insight into the man you’re marrying than you do.

You were always too busy, after all. Working or deep in your own studies and missing out on the many evenings Steve invited them all to join him in his outings. You suppose you’ll rectify that soon. There’s a lot two people can learn in three years—if he’s open to it, that is.

That awareness of truly not knowing him settles in as you clamber into the passenger seat, thumb sliding awkwardly over the band of your engagement ring to fiddle idly. He turns the dial on the music, something pop and current, and you lean back against your seat, letting the quiet of the morning wash over you.

You wake some time later to the sound of Steve’s voice in your ear, announcing, “Hey. We made it.”

Sleep lingers in your eyes as you shift in your seat to take him in. Dark eyes greet yours, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt. Your gaze then slides to the imposing building on a side of the city you’ve never really ventured outside of your coffee date with him some days prior.

It stands proud, tall and looming, with workers at the ready, prepped with carts for your things.

“They’ll take care of bringing everything up, and I thought maybe we could grab a coffee,” he suggests, moving to open his door. He tosses the valet his key and waltzes over to your side, opening the door for you. “How does that sound?”

You’re suddenly aware of the state of your clothes. Nothing more than a pair of baggy mom jeans and a striped tee shirt. Some white tennis shoes that are veering on brown in some areas from overuse.

Then there’s Steve, in dark wash jeans and a shirt you know likely still cost him a small fortune. Effortlessly handsome as always with a Chanel watch strapped around the wrist extended toward you.

You take his palm, nearl tripping over the bump of the curb as you go, your side thumping against his. He curls you there instead of letting you go, an arm around your shoulder, waving to the workers as they shift and swirl around you.

Keeping up appearances already, you suppose.

One pauses to dip their head your way, beaming brightly, asking, “It’s the girl from Instagram. Congratulations, Miss. Or rather, soon to be Mrs. Harrington.”

The name drops something akin to cool dread in your stomach. But you smile all the same. “You know what they say. When you know—” You tip your head up to look at him, gripping him by the jaw and giving him a soft wiggle. “You know.”

In your palm, Steve forces a grin. A little wild, a little smushed and silly, but the worker smiles all the same and wishes you both a good morning. Leaves you standing beside your soon to be husband on the side of an unfamiliar street, in an unfamiliar new town, ready to walk into your unfamiliar home.

“Coffee sounds good, actually,” you decide, wanting to be anywhere other than stuck in the awkward silence of the moment, and follow him down the sidewalk.

-

By the time you return, Steve’s been alerted that all your things have been brought up to the penthouse. Coffee in hand, you walk through the swirling doors, standing as close to Steve as humanly possible without truly touching him. There are people there to greet him, realizations in the back of your mind that he must be well-known. Amicable and kind, they offer warm welcomes to both you and your future husband as you’re led to an elevator that brings you all the way up to the top floor.

It’s from there, you’re brought into the place you’ll be spending the next few years. But what greets you is far greater than you even imagined. Endless floor to ceiling windows that overlook the cityscape. High, vaulted ceilings, impossibly white walls. Dark furniture throughout the living area, the kitchen. Against the living room wall rests the largest television you’ve seen, presently off, though Steve turns it on to allow some music to play and break the awkward silence as he walks you around.

He’s already told you the general layout of his space: two bathrooms, multiple bedrooms, a fully decked out personal gym, movie area, dining area, outdoor patio, a study that also poses as his office, a library. It seems impossible to have this much space, and yet the further into the suite you walk, the more real it becomes.

“Seems not lived in, though,” you comment out loud, taking in the impressively clean place. Especially knowing Steve doesn’t spend much time at all here. “Like there’s all this space and nothing to fill it with.”

He huffs out a laugh, not disagreeing. “You can spruce it up if you want. I’ll give you my card. Whatever you like to make it feel like yours. Because, well, it is yours.”

“Yours, mine, and ours, right?” You awkwardly laugh, walking over to look out the windows and take in the bustling city below. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s…yeah, you know, I guess it is.” He sidles up next to you, peering out where you are. He frowns, contemplative. “I guess I don’t think about it often. I wake up to it every day.”

Another stark reminder of just how different your lives are.

“How was wedding planning with my mom?” he asks, drawing you attention to his face. His fingers card through his hair, his feet carrying him over to the kitchen to pull out a glass. He adds a second, asking, “Anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” you say, hands clasped behind your back as you join him. “We went over color schemes. I ended up with pale pinks, lavenders and a tiny pop of gold. More so the accents. We will be looking for a dress tomorrow. Kind of shitting myself over that one.”

“I can come—if you want?” He suggests, holding your glass in front of him.

“Isn’t that bad luck?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Pretty sure that’s only at the wedding.”

“Right.” The wedding. In thirty days. “I mean, if you wanted to come…”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, opening his phone and showing you the calendar app. “What time?”

“Your mother got us a private appointment at twelve. I told her she didn’t have to do that but—”

“She’s excited. She’s getting a daughter out of this. Sometimes I think she wishes I’d been a girl,” he laughs, though there’s a hint of bitterness there you don’t miss. “Here—let me show you your room.”

You trail after him in silence, eyes taking in everything you pass. Boring, empty walls. No pops of color. No personal photos. Nothing indicative of life. Not even a shred of memorabilia from his childhood, or something of sentimental value from his boyhood. It seems odd, though you don’t press him on it. Instead you allow him to bring you through the tour, before stopping in front of a closed door.

“This,” he says, tapping on the exterior, “is my room. In case you ever need me. And here…”

You walk further down the way and stop in front of another door. “Will be your room. All your things will have already been moved in. You just have to unpack and make it yours. I do have some work I need to get to now, but I’m around if you need me.”

“It’s the weekend…” you point out, fingers around the door handle.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But with all that’s going on, I want to make sure everything is taken care of before the wedding and our honeymoon.”

Honeymoon.

Right.

To that private island in the Maldives.

A honeymoon for two people who are most definitely not intimate and, therefore, should not be spending money like this is anything more than a mere sham.

Still, your flights are booked, accommodations made, and itinerary is set. It was the first thing his mother had done other than figuring out what color palette you preferred.

“So, uh, I’ll talk to you…later then,” you say, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Yeah, later.” He nods.

And suddenly, you’re Cinderella once more.

Standing there in that doorway, in her too-big home, with that pumpkin instead of a carriage.

-

Though you’ve never spent much time fantasizing about shopping for your wedding dress, it never quite looks like what you see around you now.

For starters, you imagined your mother would be there. Kind, bright and smiling. There to tell you how beautiful you look, to coax you through your nerves, to remind you that this is the most special day of your life coming up and to just enjoy the moment.

But it’s not. And you’re left standing on a pedestal in front of Mrs. Harrington, your father, sister, Eddie and Robin. Further off in the distance is Steve, phone against his face as it has been since you woke that morning.

Steve’s always busy, you soon realize. In the private car to take you to the boutique? He had a work conference call. In the kitchen while you ate your breakfast? Another phone call. Now here, while a bridal attendant works with his mother to find you some options to try on? He’s got some major meltdown to help sort out.

You understand, and yet there’s a slight sting there you’re not expecting. The idea that he said he would be there for your try-on session, but he’s not really there. Not emotionally, at least.

“Still can’t believe you got Eddie to come,” Caroline laughs, elbowing the man in question as he snatches her up and shakes her vigorously. “Stop it, asshole—”

“Caroline!” your father snaps, leaning back into the couch cushion as another attendant passes out glasses of champagne for all present.

They even manage to find some juice for your sister, so she feels involved with the process.

“So, we picked a few beautiful pieces. A lot of these are brand new, so you won’t have to worry about someone else wearing the same dress—”

“Oh I’m not concerned about—”

Mrs. Harrington clears her throat, waving her champagne flute in the air. “Only the best for my future daughter in law.”

You shoot a weak grin Robin��s way.

Eddie gives you a reassuring thumbs up, arm still around Caroline’s neck despite her protesting.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of trying on dress after dress. Fancy beading, endless lace, plunging backs, dramatic trains, striking silhouettes.

You’re decked in beading from head to toe, diamond encrusted gowns, gowns that look like they’re better suited for royalty than on the girl who grew up in Hawkins. Who worked at her little hole in the wall restaurant and had a normal, unglamorous upbringing.

It hits you as you’re standing there, with a veil that looks to be studded with expensive jewels, staring at your own reflection that this isn’t you. None of these are. And even if you’re marrying someone to help them fulfill a will and to secure a debt for your own self, there’s a part of you that wants to do things your way.

If you’re going to get married to Steve Harrington, you want to feel like yourself while doing it. “Do you have something more…simple? Classic. Understated, maybe?”

The bridal attendant looks to your future mother-in-law like you have grown five dozen heads, and the look your mother-in-law then gives you tells you she is agreeing with the same sentiment.

Her gaze wavers, shifting over to where her son is pacing in the background, before she shifts back to where you stand on a podium.

The girl in a fancy ball gown that feels like a costume more than anything else.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” she asks, and you blow out a heavy breath.

Your guests shift on the couch awkwardly as you hop off the podium and peruse the dozens of racks. You point out the ones that seem more comfortable, more like something you would have picked up on your own even before all of this. Simpler designs, classical silhouettes, subtle beading.

All in all, you end up in a stunning a-line princess, v-neck wedding gown with thin straps and a pretty lace detailing along the low back.

A minimalistic veil is placed at the back of your head and draped around you like a billowing halo, trailing down the pedestal and onto the cream carpeting below.

Behind you, Eddie whistles.

Caroline snaps photos on her phone.

Robin’s shouting, “Holy shit, babe.”

And when you turn around to your father and future mother-in-law, you know you’ve made the right decision in trusting your gut. Both have snatched tissues from a nearby tissue box and dab ceaselessly at their eyes, sniffling audibly.

“You look beautiful, honey,” your father says around a sob.

Bottom lip wobbling, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Mrs. Harrington waves in her son’s direction, calling over her shoulder, “Steve, look at your bride. Stop being rude.”

When he turns around, there’s a moment. A brief one, you think, where he pauses. Maybe it’s a realization he’s making a huge mistake, the understanding that he’s going to have a wife in a few short weeks, the idea that he’s giving up his future for three years. But there’s a thought, however fleeting, where his eyes widen and you wonder if it’s actually none of those at all.

Without a name to place that emotion to, you simply swallow and mutter softly, “Well, what do you think?”

Eddie leans against the couch, fingers draping over the plush back as he asks out loud, “Yeah, Stevie, what do you think?”

It’s a threat.

Veiled.

There’s no danger, not really, but Steve swallows all the same.

Wavers a bit as he looks to Eddie, then back to you.

He swallows again, and says, “You’re beautiful, honey.”

Disappointment sinks like an anchor of dread, because you wonder if he even means it.

-

Cake testing a week later fares no better. You’re still getting used to your new routine. Waking up early to an empty home in an empty room that hardly feels like yours. Steve’s usually off to sort out something with the business, while you’re left to your own devices.

Which means phone calls with the wedding planner, pictures sent back and forth between Steve and your future mother-in-law about decisions made, which Steve always just sends and thumbs up emoji back to, and trying to make sense of a wedding that only one half of the couple has been privy to.

Sure, he’d been there when you picked out your dress. But he hadn’t been for the floral arrangements, for figuring out what the bridesmaids will wear as well as the groomsmen. And he’s definitely not there when you’re presented with options for musical entertainment.

So it comes as a shock when he does end up coming for the cake testing. And since he’s free to do so, his mother stays home, suggesting it’ll be an intimate moment for you two. Something about how the cake is important.

You hold back your biting remarks about how it’s just a cake, and instead thank her.

Whine a bit on the phone to really sell the fact that you ‘miss Stevie’—in case she doubts the validity of your engagement. She’s not really shown any indications of such, but you’re growing more mindful of the importance of appearances.

Because it’s in that first week your name pops up in the popular pages of instagram and other social media platforms. There’s even a TikTok of you walking on a busy city street with Steve and Eddie, where people bring to question if you and Steve are already fighting based on your body language.

Though, you do suppose there’s some weight to their remarks. In said video, you’re standing closer to Eddie than Steve, and Steve’s phone is in the hand nearest to you. The one they suggest he should really be holding if he’s as in love as he is. It sounds ridiculous, but it does make sense.

In their eyes, you’re more likely to be dating the famous rockstar based on body language alone than your fiancé.

Wedding planning should be butterflies in your belly, heart eyes for days, wrapped up in one another sort of affection. Steve and you, on the other hand, are two people walking side by side and yet not together.

You understand you need to change that. So as you walk down the street that evening on your way to the bakery, you mutter out, “Hold my hand.”

“What?” He’s typing on his phone, as always. The sound of keyboard clicking meets your ears, before he locks the screen and slides it into his pocket.

“Hold,” you say. There’s a little extra bite this time, “my hand.”

He exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re in love with me and we’re getting married in less than twenty days,” you remind him.

Less than three weeks. Just under that, really. A thought that immediately has your skin prickling with nervousness and anticipation. Three weeks until you have a new name, a new husband.

“And we’re on our way to our cake testing,” you add, lacing your fingers through his. “People have been talking about us on social media.”

“Saying what?” He leads you down a side street, and then another.

“That we look uncomfortable with one another. That it seems like we must be fighting, because you don’t show me any affection in public—”

“I’ve been—”

“Busy, I know. But they don’t know that, so they’ll fill in the blanks when applicable,” you explain, giving his palm a light squeeze. “So I think we should get used to the public displays of affection, don’t you? I mean, we’re going to have to kiss at the altar, for one. And then there’s the dancing at the reception. Photos. Events.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees.

“I know I’m right,” you joke, allowing him to open the door for you to the building.

-

“Cake testing can be intimate. This is one of your first meals as a couple, so it needs to be representative of your relationship. The two of you. The love you share,” the cake maker explains, her hands waving to and fro in the air like she’s painting a picture.

You glance over at Steve. He offers a shrug, likely just as uncertain as to what the hell this lady is getting at. “Pardon?”

“You want a cake that is representative of your love. A symbol—if you will.”

“It’s just a c—” Steve begins, but the older woman narrows her gaze darkly and he clears his throat. Uncomfortable. “Honey, why don’t you handle this one?”

“Oh, but darling, you’re the cake connoisseur.” You pat the hand holding yours affectionately atop the table, forcing a megawatt grin on your lips.

“Is that so?” Madeleine asks, cat eye glasses sliding lower down the bridge of her nose. “In that case, did you have any ideas for what you imagined the cake at your wedding to look like?”

Steve’s hand nervously grows tighter around yours. You hiss at the throbbing pain that develops there when your knuckles smash together. The grasp immediately loosens, a thumb coming to slide gently over the sore areas.

You choose to ignore the rush of heat that swoops low in your belly, though.

“Well—I pictured…a cake,” he expresses lamely.

“What my dear fiancé means to say is…we’ve been so caught up with the rush of wedding planning we haven’t given it much thought,” you giggly airily, faux coyness filling your tone. “You know how it is. We’re just so excited to spend the rest of our lives together. So we were hoping maybe you’d be able to suggest some options for us.”

Because you’re also not sure how to tell them your cake needs to be representative of a mix of high levels of shame and “I was drowning in debt and Steve offered assistance, so long as I become his wife.”

Madeleine huffs and gets to work.

Later, the two of you stumble back onto the street with a cake picked out and designed to Madeleine’s liking. A red velvet center with some endless swirling flowers along the exterior in the color scheme of your wedding.

“A cake reflective of our relationship,” he mutters, shaking his head as he reaches for your palm once more. “And what was that? Sacrificing me to her?”

You bat your eyelashes prettily, shrugging. “My idea of a cake is a boxed Pillsbury one. I figured you were the closest to an expert we would get. Also—you nearly broke my hand there.”

“I was stressed,” he argues, though there’s a hint of a smile curling his lips. His thumb does another one of those low sweeps that has you pausing in your footsteps. “But that was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

You bark out a laugh, following him down the still unfamiliar streets leading home. “A little? I don’t know where your mother and the wedding planner found her. It’s a cake. It’s literally a cake we’re going to have one bite of before the caterers feed it to the rest of our guests.” A shudder ripples down your spine at that. “Our guests. Weird to think, huh?”

“Less than three weeks,” he muses, the two of you crossing at a streetlight. “Still feeling okay with the whole thing?”

“Okay? That's still to be determined.” He waves to someone in passing. Likely a neighbor, you assume. “Backing out? Absolutely not.”

-

One thing you definitely didn’t consider in this whole…fake marriage plot with Steve, is the concept of bachelor and bachelorette parties. You are obviously well aware of the typical fanfare, have been in numerous weddings as it is, but there are no parameters or guidelines in place for a wedding that has been planned in thirty days in an effort to rush to the altar.

So, you leave that part of the wedding planning up to your friends.

And somehow the end result is a joint party.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Holy shit, Steve.” Robin’s head falls back as she enters your bedroom, mouth dropping open, taking it all in. It’s the size of both your rooms combined back at your old place. “At least you got a nice place out of all this.”

You shrug, dropping down onto your bed. Fingers splay across the sheets, soft and cool beneath. Against your closet rests the white jumpsuit you’ve decided on for your party. A sleeveless number that cinches at the waist and a sweetheart neckline that cups your breasts sumptuously.

Pretty.

But there’s the dawning realization that tonight all the attention will be solely on you and Steve.

So what do you do?

-

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve groans, wincing as his shot goes down.

“Actually, it’s probably one of the best I’ve had,” Eddie exclaims, clapping you both on the back.

The sting of tequila burns in your nose. The flowing sash across your chest that says Mrs. Harrington rumples when your arm reaches over to place the glass back down on the countertop. Robin’s there to adjust it, grinning despite your sour expression.

“Wow, look at you two,” she coos, pulling out her phone to snap a photo. “For your story. They’ll eat it up. Plus, better to get all the cute pictures now, instead of when you’re both drunk later.”

Steve pulls you closer to take a photo, grumbling. “We are not getting drunk.”

-

“Steeeeve.”

You’re drunk.

“Yeah, honey bunny.”

Aaaaand so is he.

“F—” You hiccup. He laughs, leaning bodily into your shoulder. “—uck. I’m gonna kill Eddie.”

Even though Eddie’s only responsible for your first drink. Not the second, or the third, fourth…you’re not sure where you’re at now.

There’s at least an awareness that it’s enough; enough to have the room spinning when you sit down, and Steve beside you like an anchor in a shaky sea.

So when he moves to stand, your fingers curl around his wrist and drag him back down again. “No. Don’t go. We’re…to death do us part.”

“Till,” he corrects, snorting playfully. “You’re gonna see me everyday for…three years.”

“But there’s so many people here. Soooo many. And most of them are your friends,” you whine, clasping your hand in his as he leads you back out further into the people spread out along the private rooftop. “You have soooo many friends. Did you know that?”

He simply laughs, just as Eddie’s voice breaks over the noise all around you. A loud shout of, “The soon to be newlyweds should do the next round of karaoke!”

“Edward Munson, you little s—” Another hiccup. Shit, you think, we’re giggly drunk tonight. “shit. I’m gonna beat your ass like I did when we were kids.”

“It’s like something out of a fuckin’ romcom,” Steve later whines as you’re both pushed onto the stage by a bunch of cheering friends. “And they picked our song already.”

“Oh no, which one?” You slur a bit on your words, one ankle rolling like a baby deer.

Steve grasps your bicep to steady you. “Marry You by Bruno Mars.”

“Nooo,” you moan, hiding your face in his collar bone. Shit, you think, I’m a flirty drunk tonight too. “Think we can escape our own party?”

One glance out to your awaiting guests tells you that’s not at all a possibility. Steve’s there, overly affectionate now that you’ve got a crowd, with a hand on your lower back, pulling you close.

To anyone else, you’re a couple celebrating their nuptials in the next few days.

To you, you know he’s laying it on thick.

Making sure there is absolutely no question as to the validity of your marriage.

Especially with potential co workers around, with those who can easily talk rumors in the halls, who might wonder why the speedy engagement and rush down the aisle in the first place.

“One song,” you shout over the crowd, over Steve’s shoulder.

And then, in a puff of breath against his ear you whisper, “Make it count, hubby.”

-

“It’s a beautiful night. We’re looking for something dumb to do. Heyy babyyyy! I think I wanna marry you!” You sing.

If you can consider it that.

To Eddie it’s screeching or a shrill wail, a high pitched thing that makes everyone around you wince.

There’s interference with the mic that has Eddie’s eyes slamming shut against the sharp pang against his eardrums.

“Think we should stop them?” Robin asks out loud, watching Steve awkwardly bob and sway beside you, never really sure of what to do with his body when it comes to music.

“No,” Eddie chuckles darkly, leaning back on his chair. “Those idiots are involving us in a literal crime, so we’re going to have our fun with it.”

“Is it the look in your eyes or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you,” Steve continues, and it’s clearly not up to your standard, because you grab his arm and wiggle it frantically.

“I am marrying him!” You giggle over the microphone, extending your ring to the crowd. “Can you believe it? Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh no,” Robin mutters, gripping Nancy’s hand beside her. “She’s giggly now.”

“She’s fucked up. She’s going to kill us in the morning,” Eddie grumbles.

Robin’s eyes widen as Nancy says, “I really feel like you two should stop them. Because Steve just grabbed her and now they’re, uh, making out on the stage—”

Robin jumps to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

-

You wake in the morning to a bunch of tiny needles stabbing your skull. Like someone took a jackhammer to your brain and pushed an on switch.

Brain practically groaning in your head, you lift yourself slowly into a sitting position and moan at the throb that rolls down the nape of your neck and down your spine.

Wincing, you kick your legs over the side of the bed and insert your feet into the slippers on the floor down below, sighing at the immediate comfort.

The penthouse is full of chatter. Voices mill from the kitchen, soft despite the clanging cymbals you’re convinced are in your brain. And there, at the kitchen island, stands none other than your two (ex) best friends and your soon to be husband, cups of coffee held against their temples, shame ebbing from their forms.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Robin coos, turning around to gauge your expression.

You don’t miss the shock of brows curling high on her forehead, nor do you miss the tick in Eddie’s cheek as he fights a smile.

“I must look like shit,” you grumble, sliding into the kitchen between the group, uncaring as your shoulder brushes Steve’s. There’s already an iced coffee for you on the countertop. Steve must have ordered, you assume, fighting the flutter in your chest at the thought. “I feel like shit. Very unsexy shit. People keep talking about my bridal beauty, but I feel very much like a bridal beast right now.”

Robin shakes her head, hand on your shoulder. “No, you look fine, you look—”

“Like you’ve had better nights,” Eddie says nonchalantly, earning a cough from Steve to his left.

“I’m sorry, it seems like your invitation to my wedding was rescinded. So weird,” you say brightly, leaning against Robin’s shoulder, pinching your eyes against the bright kitchen lightning. “You’re no longer my best friend. Maybe you’ll fare better with Steve here.”

Why did Steve get a building with white walls as far as the eye can see? You also decide your first purchase will be curtains to block out the natural light coming through the large windows covering the entirety of your living room exterior.

“Tell me you guys didn’t have fun,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “Unless you don’t remember much of it. But it looked like you were having fun.”

The thing is, you remembered every moment.

Every interaction with your guests, every brush of shoulders from your soon to be husband.

Every fleeting glance.

Every look over the top of your glass.

The way your heart danced in your chest as he led you onto that stage.

How his fingers had curled around your own as you sang that ridiculous karaoke song.

How his lips had felt when he dropped a hand to the small of your back and tugged you flush against his form.

The way his heart thundered against yours where your sternums pressed together.

The warmth of his palm.

The heat of his breath as you breathed one another in.

The fullness of his mouth against yours, gentle brushes at first that soon grew passionate.

Heated.

It had been scalding.

A burn that simmered.

A burn you relished, wanted to fan into flame, wanted to foster in the moment.

Just a silly, stupid, alcohol-fueled moment.

It means nothing.

Nothing.

“I don’t really remember much after we left here,” Steve says.

He stares at you. Eyes locked on your face. Imploring.

Eddie and Robin shift your way, too.

Curiosity brims, and your heart aches.

You open your mouth. “I don’t really remember much either.”

Seven days.

You’ll be a wife in seven days.

Don’t get it twisted now, you remind yourself.

-

-

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

I appreciate the way you write for D and Alucard Tepes so much it is unreal! I saw your prompt list and I’d love it if you’d be fine with writing how each or either of them kiss and how they like to be kissed. They both deserve so much good, and when I have the time I’ll come back to check out the rest of your prompt list(s)!!!!

Hello anon 🖐️ It makes me really happy you liked them! I've already wrote this prompt with Alucard, it's right here. As for D, I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you'll like it 😘 They both deserve all the love. My ask box is alway open and I love receiving messages like these. Definitely send some more requests my way, beautiful.

He caught himself staring at your lips more times than he’d like to admit. After meeting, the vampire hunter was privy to emotions that he never felt before. Jealousy, nervousness, lust, longing. He was threading an unknown waters and he didn’t like i tone bit. You were too distracting, yet he can’t bring himself to push you away. You tempt him in all the ways imaginable and the most infuriating thing is you don’t even realize it.

First one to initiate is you, naturally. He’s too…shy. Unsure of what to do and how to do it. You say he spends too much time in his head, contemplating everything for too long. He says that you jump into everything head first and ask questions later. He’s never more grateful for this trait of yours as he is now.

The careful, slow brush of your lips is almost too much to handle.You’re both frozen for a moment, but then thankfully, you tilt your head and press another sweet kiss to his trembling lips, this time you stay there longer. D forces himself to stop thinking and just feel, and do whatever feels right. He kisses you back. Cold, pale lips caressing yours. He tilts his head in opposite direction and his hair cascades down his shoulder like a black curtain. One if his hands finds its way to your face, fingers holding your cheek until they slide to your hair. He listens to the little sound you make in the back of your throat. Warmth spreading from his chest to the rest of his being.

You are the one who always initiates the kiss on the lips. He’s always in awe that you’ll so readily envelop in a kiss mouth that hides a razor sharp fangs. D is always so careful not to point them out. Speaking softly and quietly as to not show them, seeking privacy when feeding, trying his hardest not to by overcome by his beastly instincts. But you, oh you, you were never afraid of them. Nor his red glowing eyes or his inhuman growls and hisses in the face of danger. You press your lips against them, tongue licking into his mouth, searching for them while he tries to fight desperate groan  thrumming in his throat.

While he is hesitant to kiss your mouth, the rest of you is not safe from his adoration. D revels in those heartfelt moment when he reuniets with you. He brings you closer to his chest as he presses a small kiss on your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. The slow, deliberate press of his mouth against your temple when he has to leave to the places you can’t follow. A quiet promise of his return.

The vampire hunter won’t verbally express his desire to be intimate with you. He doesn’t need to. He pours all of his passions into that one kiss on your neck, and just so his intentions are clear he places another one here, and another one. Gently pulling your head to the side to shower the expanse between your ear and shoulder with affection.

He places one secret kiss over your underbelly or the inside of your thigh as one last innocent adoration before diving between your legs and showing your the full expanse of his love for you. Or that kiss on your ankle accompanied by a possessive nip of his fangs as he holds your legs over his head? Don’t worry darling, that’s just little something to remember him by while he’s away…

[tennessoui]

i decided to reread ur foolproof, foolhardy fic, and "“You dropped into my lap about five meters away from both our masters in a very unsoundproofed ship and asked all sultry, Wanna fuck? How could a man say no?”" how WOULD poor master skywalker have responded if baby!obi-wan had done that instead of his long seduction? (maybe not where qui-gon could hear)

fun fact!! one of the original ideas for the last chapter of foolproof foolhardy was to go full-circle with this moment and have them fuck before they talk it out - fuck in the ship "because we should just get it out of our systems" on their way to the mission, a fling obi-wan proposes by dropping into anakin's lap and asking him wanna fuck?

and then after they have rough angry sex, they go do the mission they're assigned and something goes wrong and they talk about their feelings then in a big and dramatic way

but that would have meant like. 3 more chapters at least and the last step of the plan was to "be honest and direct" so i figured i had to make them be honest and direct lol

BUT! obi-wan does the lap sitting and proposition thing twice in the story, both times with vos (the one you quoted and then once in the interlude chapter when vos gently turns him down because he's not going to be a stand-in for anakin skywalker)

and then in the last chapter when he and anakin are kissing, it's referenced again:

He doesn’t think he realized until this moment that there is no need to coax Anakin into anything. He’s already wanted, past all logic and reason. He does not need to play on Anakin’s possessiveness, his anger, his jealousy. All he has to do to be wanted by Anakin Skywalker is to drop into his lap and say please. 

so really 'dropping into his lap and saying please' is sort of padawan obi-wan's MO lol i think master skywalker would have turned scarlet and i think he would have caved but it would make their love story even more complicated if they had slept together before they talked about anything

(aka in a stacy's mom au au, let's say instead of master skywalker comming ahsoka to tell her to come back in the first chapter, he goes to get her and decides to personally escort all padawans back to the temple - not vos though as he is a knight and can choke. ahsoka ends up passed out in her bed and obi-wan is really planning to leave but now it's just him and master skywalker and there's something about the man that makes him seem...approachable right now...willing. it may be the exhaustion around his eyes, it may be because this is the first time they've really been alone together since zygerria, it may be because master skywalker had his hand on his lower back the entire time he escorted him and ahsoka back to the temple, it may be because he caught master skywalker looking at his lips at least once tonight, it may be because obi-wan has had way too much to drink really and anakin's pouring a drink of his own because apparently there's important paperwork he must do and and and and it may be a thousand different things that make obi-wan feel just confident enough to drop into master skywalker's lap and ask him if he wants to fuck around - but they have to be quiet because ahsoka is asleep in the next room

and because neither would be able to just do it once, because they're both still in love with each other, they start sneaking around to do it more. there's no bet, just a lot of guilt. quinlan doesn't know, ahsoka doesn't know, and it turns out in the shadows is a good place to kiss and a bad place to have the conversations they need to have....so they don't have them and they don't have them and they don't have them and obi-wan tries to tell himself this is enough this is more than he deserves, more than he ever thought he'd get and anakin tries to tell himself that this is all he deserves and more than he ever thought he'd get)

[remusslove]

Little James and Sirius come back in the middle of the night after a prank mommy had told them they were not allowed to do because setting it up could be dangerous to them. Their smiles are gone once they enter the dorm to find a very unpleased mommy, Sirius's eyes immediately water because he's such a babyboy when it comes to his mommy and she has to calm him down and hold his hand to take him to the corner for time out. James on the other hand goes by himself but not without a bit of sass (they were okay after all, nothing went badly), mommy needing to talk more sternly and maybe a smacking his bottom a time or two.

They carefully snuck back into the room letting out quiet little giggles thinking you were fast asleep, only to be met with your arms crossed and giving them a stern look.

You raised your eyebrow expecting one of them to talk. Sirius lowered his head too ashamed to look in your eyes.

“Sirius. Start talking.” The tone in your voice made a whimper tore from his throat. It was almost so quiet it would’ve been silent.

“M’ sorry mommy. I just wanted to have fun m’swear! His eyes became cloudy with tears as his voice suddenly grew shaky and higher.

“And I wasn’t going to do it but I was bored and I know I shouldn’t have! I’m still a good boy I swear mama!” By now the tears have escaped and he taking shorter breaths.

“It’s alright siri come here” you reassured him opening your arms indicating that you can hold him. He whimpered holding onto you tightly as James stood there with a bit of jealousy but no remorse.

“All your gonna get is a timeout. Only for half an hour then a bath and some cuddles mkay?” You said gently making sure he knows you wouldn’t be too rough with him right now especially because he’s slipping so far so fast.

He nodded letting go of his hold on you before sitting down with his legs crossed in the corner.

You looked over to James who wasn’t looking directly in your eyes. “James. I know this was your idea. Come here” you said, the sternness that recently laced your voice only minutes before returning.

“Well it’s not fair, you never let me do anything fun” he said irritably. “Because that prank was dangerous james. You both could’ve got hurt, especially because I wasn’t there.” You answered to his attitude with reasoning.

“Now come here. I’m not gonna ask again.” You threatened. He tested his luck even further, rolling his eyes. He walked towards you and when he was in arms reach you bent him over and swatted him three times on the bottom.

“Owie!” He whimpered as you directed him to sit down on the opposite side of the room. With getting a kiss on his cheek he sat down wincing at the pressure on his butt. You didn’t give him a lot of spanks but did use a lot of force.

~~~~

“Times up my loves come here” you said half an hour later pushing the papers you were working on to the bed stand as they immediately went and hugged you. You chuckled using both hands to mess with their hair.

“My good boys”

[asunnyh]

∿ ░᪶⃗ 🥢៹┊ easy talk ;; Shikanoin Heizou

cw: fluffy, confession (sort of), not reviewed, gn reader

notes: I can't take him off my mind help

"I fell in love with a detective."

You said simplistic, casually passing your eyes in the beige pagers of your next mission, letters and letters with such detailed instructions you don't get surprised to see a ink blot in some places of the page, like the writer, for an instant, forgot they were writing and soon enough the a weird circle was made.

"Oh, is that so?" Heizou voice sounded too close to where you are, out of the corner of your eye you can see him at your side, your arms almost touching.

"Yes... do you have any tips?"

"Tips?" he clicked his tongue, a mix of disgusting and amused through both his expression and his note of voice. You didn't dare to look straight to his eyes, too afraid you'd lost yourself into it too easily, even if the pages aren't that interesting.

"I don't want him to discover it, how can I make a detective doesn't see through my fail acts that I'm madly in love with him?" You explained calmly, looking for a courage it just happened to you got so suddenly and, Archons, you could even feel your subconscious already thanking don't know how many Gods for didn't stutter.

"Madly in love?" He repeat and you could, almost, too near to completely sure of, that the color of his words had a hint of jealousy, disbelief and avoiding liking tone.

"Did I accidentally broke you?" You tease, for a detective, was he really completely clueless?

The leading thing your eyes catch when you decide to look at him for the very first time from what looked an eternity of doesn't observing the little points in his cheeks was his own green eyes inspecting you. The shiver that passes through your spine when his stare is directed straight to your own eyes felt way too real, enough for you to fake-cough and avoid his sharp expression.

"Oh" Heizou mumbled, you could even see the bright smirk that adorns his lips just by the way he pointed the word and only here you notice your cheeks was slightly warmer than normally would. You cough again.

"It depends" He start speaking; by now, it's clear the amused shade, the way he is sure he is going to have a lot of fun from this "If they are a good detective, they'll know, don't matter how hard you try to hide it"

"And if they're a bad detective?"

You couldn't stop the laugh that scape your mouth when you saw the completely offended expression Heizou's face had, looking at you in disbelief before his words sounded again.

"Oh please, I think you are capable of liking someone smart."

You laughed again, — you didn't know, but he could not avoid to get his expression softened at this view of you.

"And what you mean by it?" You ask with a smile in your lips, looking at him (not eyes, never eyes when this close).

"I simply think you're the kind of liking a good detective, I mean, someone sharp enough, you're too good for falling for a detective who can't even tell your feelings towards them."

"I guess I can't say otherwise, can I?" You asked still with a smile, it's clear you both could have some fun in this little game of yours, and as a plus you are having fun by his reactions.

"Of course not" He says almost immediately, but recover himself very quickly, and with a smirk he lean closer to your face, only to put in place a lock of hair that went out of place, moving away as he speaks "And may I know who is the definitely sharp detective you fell for?"

Your heartbeat stops and speeds up at his tone almost too soft. It's not some quiet voice he usually uses, and even if the teasing still (of course it still-) he reverberates way too kind, almost with a hint of pure lovely esteem.

You could only sigh, looking away once more, a genuine smile as you spoke in the same accent.

"Can't the best detective of Tenryou Commission discover?" You tried, and note in the tried, tease, but you only got a small chuckle of Heizou.

"I can, obviously, but I still want you to say it"

"..."

"You're a little rascal, aren't you?" You said with an accusing expression, getting a ' surrounded ' gesture of him, who laughed at it, nodding as he talks.

"But you fell for it."

"Yeah, I did."

notes: I hope someone likes it alnxosms I feel quite silly so I wrote this but too lazy to re-read to see if it's makes sense so sorry for anything and by any case I can always use the "not my first language" card 🙏🏻 /hj

anyway I hope you liked it and even if not thank you for reading <3 hope you have a great day!

[brighteststar707]

I would love jumin + dark chocolate for the prompts if the slot hasn't been filled! a combo of sweet and suggestive would be fun but I'll leave the content up to you – have fun with it 🤎🍫

congrats on 300 followers too! :)

We did it! We finally reached the last of the event requests. Thank you very much for your patience Ann, this one is a treat for you!

I've tried to match the request for sweet and suggestive (mild spice warning ahead!), and I'm really happy with the result! I'm sorry it took a few months to get to you but I hope you enjoy <333

✧Dark Chocolate ~ Fantasies

The silence in the lift on the way up to Jumin’s penthouse is full of things unspoken. The night so far has been filled with so much to say, so many thoughts, indulgences, memories that just begged to be shared. So, their silence now is not uncomfortable. Both Jumin and the woman with him are processing all that has passed between them, and for that, the lift serves as the perfect reprieve. 

Then, all at once, their silence is disturbed by the soft chime of the lift reaching his floor, then the sound of their shoes across the tiles and his quiet words to the guards as they open the front door. He gestures to her to enter first and she hesitantly steps inside. He follows closely behind her and encourages her to please, sit down, make herself comfortable.

He goes to the kitchen to pour them both a glass of wine (the very thing that lured them up here in the first place), and he feels the weight of her eyes on him. Usually, people who come into his home spend time ogling every little detail – and he doesn’t blame them, there is a lot to take in. Not her, though. Her attention is focused solely on him and his every movement as he pours the wine into their glasses. It fills him with a self-consciousness that’s completely foreign to him.

He sits next to her on the sofa and hands her a glass of wine.

“Cheers. To you,” he says, raising his own glass to meet hers with a soft clink.

“Cheers. To us.”

It’s the first thing she has said since they entered the building and it has already set his heart racing again.

She takes a sip, then tilts her head to the side, thoughtful.

“You’re right, this is better than the wine we had at the restaurant.”

“I knew you’d have the palate to appreciate it.”

“You think very highly of me.”

“I do, and you haven’t given me reason to think otherwise.”

And he means it. Others might call him overly critical, but Jumin has met enough people throughout his life and career to know how to read them. He has met many of his father’s girlfriends and seen in each of them the greed and shallowness that his father has consistently failed to see. He has to see through the smiles of his business partners while they're trying to push him on a disadvantageous deal. He could not exist in the position he does and not be judgemental.  

With her, he has searched (especially early on) for anything to prove that her character wasn’t as she presented it. It was for the safety of the RFA (and certainly not to protect himself from his own feelings). But he never found anything in her that wasn’t worthy of admiration.

She has always, from the moment they met, been his exception. The person to make him laugh when he usually would not, the person he wants to tell his thoughts to when he was sure nobody would understand. This much he had told her earlier over dinner. What he did not tell her is that she was also the person to make his heart race when he was sure it could never beat that way for another person.

Despite how much he has denied his feelings, they never once subsided. They only continued to grow with every phone call, every meeting, every word she directed at him (and more painfully in the ones she didn’t – jealousy is a beast he was only recently getting to know). But he was sure nothing would ever come from it. With so many members in the RFA, so many people who seemed to understand her better than he could, so many people less strange than him, why would she feel the same way?

So, when he impulsively phoned her up one evening to invite her to dinner, imagine his surprise when she agreed. Imagine his surprise when she took his arm without hesitation and grew bashful at his compliments. When she didn’t shrink away as he tried to explain how much she means to him but responded with equal enthusiasm.

He is thankful for his own knowledge of people and their reactions because that way there was no way for him to mistake the way she was looking at him over dinner. Her eyes wide and attentive, taking him in like she couldn't afford to miss a moment. And he was not brave enough to say it at the time, but here in the penthouse, over their glasses of wine, as she looks at him with that same intensity in her eyes, he says it.

"Am I wrong in assuming that your feelings towards me are the same as mine for you?"

“To answer that, I’d need to know what your feelings towards me are, Jumin. Would you tell me?”

He inhaled, took a moment to turn the question over and put his feelings into words.  

“You’re in my head all the time. There’s always a part of me that is thinking about you and that misses you when you’re not around.”

“Oh?”

“You fill my head with fantasies. Ones where I can make you feel the same way you make me feel. Ones where I can be the source of your happiness and a person you can rely on.”

“You have quite mundane fantasies," she says affectionately.

“Well, there’s others, but –” He stops, reels himself in before the wine can speak for him. He does not want to say too much at once. If he starts to think about those other fantasies, then he isn’t sure where he’ll end up.

Then, more quietly (as if he is ashamed), he says, “I was sure you wouldn’t feel the same. That there was someone else who had your heart. But is it too forward to assume that you feel the same way I feel?”

She smiles, shy too now.

“It’s not too forward at all. I’ve had feelings for you for the longest time.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I know how you feel about romantic relationships. I value your friendship very much and I didn’t want to risk it by making you uncomfortable.”

He reaches out and cups her cheek in his hand. She leans into his touch and his heart pounds furiously against his ribcage.

“It is that level of consideration and understanding that makes you the last person who could ever make me uncomfortable,” he says fondly.

She covers his hand with her own.

Jumin isn’t sure how much time passes before they move again, before they both start to lean into each other and their lips finally meet. He only knows that one minute he was looking into her eyes, and the next they were kissing.

He can taste the wine on her lips, the fine red he had been wanting to share with her since he had learned about her appreciation for such things. Funny, it tastes better from her than it does otherwise.

They pull apart only to set down their glasses and pull each other closer. Their kisses go from soft and unsure to more experimental, more needy. His hand moves from her cheek to her neck, his fingertips resting at the base of her head to hold her steady. Her own hands find purchase in the collar of his shirt as she tries to pull him closer still.

She leans back just a bit (only enough for their lips to not touch) and whispers teasingly, “you said something about other fantasies?”

He chuckles. “The mundane fantasies aren’t enough for you anymore?”

Her legs are draped over his lap. One of his hands drops to rest on her thigh, holding her firmly in place.

“I know there’s more to you than that. Will you show me?”

He kisses her again, lingering and tantalizing. He usually tries to cut his imaginations of her short, but tonight, he wants to let them run. He moves from her lips to kiss her cheek, then the soft spot where her neck meets her jaw. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Having you here with me was already more of a dream than I could have asked for.”

His breath is hot against the bare skin of her shoulders and his fingers are gentle as he fiddles with the strap of her dress.

“And yet” – she shivers – “there seems to be something else you want.”

Her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, encouraging him to keep going. He lifts the strap of the dress and eases it off her shoulder. Her hands move to his hair, egging him on to continue.

He lowers his head so his lips are grazing against the newly-exposed skin.

“Be careful what you ask for. Asking me to show you what I want is like opening pandora’s box. You’re willing to indulge me?”

Without hesitation, she breathlessly replies, “yes.”

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Interaction Tag

Finally getting to some of my tags! Thank you @tildeathiwillwrite !

Kate's OC: Jarsali Fortus is an Ilunian Tinker with red-blonde hair, pale violet eyes, a creative streak, a sense of humor and a big stick to wack people with. She forges strong bonds with those she trusts, and if that trust is broken there is little hope of forgiveness. She wants nothing more than to build a world where Mages are as widely accepted as where she grew up, but she has to settle with helping Mages on the run. She is good with her hands, always working on one new project or another. A Storm Mage, she has the ability to change the weather and generate lightning, something she makes use of in combat or with her clockwork inventions. Because of this, she doesn't carry around metal objects. Sometimes she wishes that her eyes weren't such an unusual color, it's the second-most-obvious giveaway that she's a Mage (the first being altered hair color, although that's incredibly rare). She hides a lot of trauma behind her usually sunny and joking demeanor, and prefers to bottle up any negative emotions (side effect of being an eldest daughter). Most of those emotions are guilt over something she had no control over. Naturally, keeping such a tight rein on her emotions has caused them to burst out, producing unexpected, electric results.

My OC: Penetinos is a Korithian Sage and a former priest of the goddess Fokisa. He is afflicted by a neurological disease, the exact nature of which is not entirely known to the people of the Green Sea. Penetinos's sickness and his sagecraft have caused him to age prematurely. His back is bent, his once light brown hair is now grey and silver. In his youth, Penetinos was noted for his handsome and youthful appearance, tall and thin. Now unfortunately, though he is just under 60, it would be quite easy to mistake him for a man in his eighties. He is a reasonably powerful sage, though he has been limited by his sickness and age. In his youth he could summon bolts of lightning, clouds of fire, even fly for very short periods of time. Now, he can do little more than summoning small lights or move small objects.

His attitude can be best described as professorial, stern at times, quiet, though ultimately kind. Penetinos is a gentle person, averse to violence, and easily enthused when it comes to learning new things. From a very young age, Penetinos was tutored in the language and scripts of three languages, those being Korithian, Kishic, and Apunic and in matters of literature and the natural sciences.

He has come to accept his mortality, and will readily discuss the subject of death with just about anyone, though he isn't necessarily happy about it.

Interaction: Penetinos would be fascinated by Jarsali. Their specific brands of magic work very differently, and Penetinos being the curious person he is, would want to learn as much about her magic as he possibly could. Clockwork technology would similarly fascinate him, technology in Kobani is nowhere near that level of complexity, for him it would be like seeing something from the Age of Glass and Metal. Looking away from pure curiosity, as someone who has met many people and who suffers under his own traumas and fears, I suspect that Penetinos would be able to see past Jarsali’s demeanor. And as someone who spent decades hiding negative emotions like fear and jealousy, before coming to accept them, I think that Penetinos would subtly prod, trying to offer himself as someone to talk to, though never with such direct words.

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff , @elizaellwrites , @illarian-rambling , @skyderman , and @roach-pizza

[lunargrapejuice]

luna luna hiiiii ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ for the self ship ask game pls tell us abt B (diluc) + G (alhaitham) + J (neuv) + M (kaveh) hope you’re having a good day luv !

jade!!🥰🩷 i was a gushing blushing fool writing these thank you so much for asking!🩷🩷

self ship ask game💕

b - bashful what’s something one finds embarrassing about themselves but the other finds adorable?

for me it’s diluc sweet tooth! i don’t know why he’s embarrassed about it but it’s quite adorable to see him enjoying himself over different sweets, especially when he thinks it’s in secret hehe

for diluc oh god i do some many embarrassing things that he loves beyond reason djdkdkfkf but his favorite is probably when i think im alone & start singing/dancing. he likes seeing me feel so myself & without worry even if it i wish no one saw me do either ❤️

g - greetings what was their first meeting like?

alhaithams grandmother introduced us when she was still alive, though it wasn’t necessarily on purpose. i had just moved to sumeru from liyue & she had helped me with direction when i got lost in the city, we were both headed to the market & easily fell into conversation so we ended up shopping together & even though i hardly knew the city i didn’t want her carrying all her bags home by herself so i walked back with her & just as we got there alhaitham was getting home too! she introduced us & asked alhaitham to see me home in case i got lost again even though i insisted id be okay. our walk back to my place was quiet & short & i apologized for taking up his time but he seemed honest when he said it was fine & thanked me for helping his grandmother & i blushed for more reasons that just embarrassment when i replied that it was her that helped me & he couldn’t deny to himself how cute he found me🤭

j - jealousy do they get jealous easily? what do they do when jealous?

neither of us are really the jealous type, neuvi & i trust each other so much & if we were to get jealous it’s not because we think the other might do something

im more of the one to play it off like it’s nothing because i know it should be nothing, our bond & love is not something i question when it comes to other people & i feel silly for feeling that way but ive never been good at hiding my emotions & he knows something is up & is patient & sweet until i open up & cry about how ridiculous i know it is but he assures me it’s okay & that while he doesn’t want me to feel this way, his heart is very full that i feel so strongly about him being mine because he feels very much the same

neuvi is a lot more straight forward with me when he’s jealous, though not before a few irrational thoughts pass his mind about how easy it would be to condemn whoever tried to take me from him to the fortress of meropide. a ridiculous notion he knows & it’s nothing he’d ever act on but he’ll be sure to tell me how he feels & the next time i see this person that’s made my dragon jealous im sure to ask neuvi to accompany me & kiss him sweetly in a very rare display of pda🥰

m - memories what is one of their favorite memories together?

i know this was the ‘haitham question too but we both think back to the day we met a lot & it my favorite. our lives changed forever that day & we knew it from the moment our eyes met 🥺 it was after kaveh had just graduated & he was traveling around teyvat & while in liyue accidentally got caught up in a little mess me & yaoyao got ourselves into. i was helping her with a commission for baizhu when we were ambushed my hilichurls out of no where & instead of fight i just picked up her & went running.. right into kaveh & all three of us went tumbling into the running water blow us. he held both me & yaoyao tight during the fall, being sure to take the impact of the water & when the water split into small slower streams we were all just sitting there soaking wet for a moment before i was frantically looked over the both & apologize to this stranger i just knocked into the water but when our eyes met we were just staring at each other, already feeling something between us & only broke from our little love sick trance when yaoyao asked if we both hit our heads shskdkdkdk it’d be a long time & a lot of distance before we’d confess our feelings but when he told me he’d loved me since that moment i burst into tears because i did too & neither of us ever forgot or thought about love with anyone else since

[cosmicjoke]

Selfishly, and a wishful thinking of mine, I want to see Doumeki breakdown and cry to Yashiro, not to emotionally manipulate him, but genuinely cannot hold his feelings anymore— his anger, his frustration, his jealousy, his longing towards Yashiro, his guilt towards Yashiro... and everything else— Asking him why can't it be him, why does he keep choosing other people that hurts him when he (Doumeki) is there (to love) for him. Once Doumeki asked if he's not enough, and Yashiro brushed him off easily, with an answer that almost says that yes he's not enough, a lie of course.

Maybe not in a direct manner, but more like that subtle confession Yashiro did to Kageyama, in few words said, a whole lot emotion conveyed, thus sets a closure. (That Kageyama saw him as family and not a potential lover). In this instance though, it would convey Doumeki has not stop loving Yashiro since he realized his feelings, that he was miserable without him, and now he (Yashiro) is pushing him away again is too painful to bare again and again... I think clearing this 'mess' up should come from Doumeki first, because between the two, Doumeki can say it, while Yashiro keeps his true feelings inside. ( A contrast of their personality, that Doumeki is known quiet but can speak so candidly, while Yashiro is expressive but don't know how to express himself truly). The 'violence' that will happen would prolly be that, all their emotional walls will break down... again.

It's interesting, because I actually think it might be Yashiro who makes the first move now, and confesses his feelings. Part of what makes it so hard for Yashiro, of course, is the fact that the one and only time he confessed his feelings of love for another person was with Kage, and he was flatly rejected, and Yashiro has been living with that pain ever since. It's going to take a lot of courage for Yashiro to expose himself once more to the possibility of rejection, especially now that it seems like Doumeki no longer loves him. But I just get the sense that somehow it will be Yashiro who speaks the words, who finally admits how he truly feels. I think Doumeki might be too sunk in his own anger and resentment at this point to tell Yashiro the truth about his own behavior. He thinks Yashiro doesn't want him, because Yashiro keeps going to other men, of course, and when he offers to be rough with Yashiro, Yashiro turns him down. He doesn't realize why. He doesn't see the ways in which Yashiro is no longer acting the way he used to, and I think that comes down to Doumeki's own frustration and anger. It's a total quagmire of confusion, because Yashiro thinks Doumeki no longer loves him because he pushed him away, and that's why Doumeki's acting so cold and indifferent, but really, it's just Doumeki being afraid that showing Yashiro tenderness will cause Yashiro to once more push him away.

Given how angry Doumeki is at the end of chapter 50 though, I just can't see him breaking down and confessing his true feelings to Yashiro. I don't know what he's going to do, to be honest. I feel really like it's going to have to come from Yashiro.