#this is canon pretty simple told me

[blushyslushy]

Saw this image and i felt forced to draw it

[blogofsara]

Cathex Wedding

Since we've never seen Alex's and Cathy's wedding, I thought I'd create it myself!

I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride 🤵👰💍.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Me reading fics where Tuvok encourages other peoples’ romantic pursuits:

[creatingblackcharacters]

Lesson 7: "That's the Black one!"- Imagery and "Black-Coded" Characters

Now, you see me writing it!! I'm writing the lesson on Black-coded, non-human characters!! Y'all better go tell your friends and reblog, y'all been asking me forever about it!

This one was a bit hard for me to write. It didn't feel… New. It felt like a regurgitation of everything I'd already discussed. I was honestly confused every time people sent me questions; I thought we all understood how it worked. But I realized: that's not a bad thing! We can consider this an application of everything we've learned so far, because that’s all coding is, is an application!

The Definition

Coding (in media): giving a character or a group certain traits (physical or cultural experiences) that are similar to/that of a real-world specific group, without explicitly saying this fictional group is the real-world group. One may or may not mean to do it in their writing (which is where the opportunity for racist stereotype can leak in).

E.g., “queer-coded characters” gets used a lot on Tumblr; whether accurate or not, it is understood to mean that the blogger sees their/a queer identity portrayed by that character, or that the character was written with ‘queer’ traits in mind. Another example; Darwin Watterson is a goldfish in a world with no humans, but Darwin is Black-coded. The Fishmen in the One Piece Live Action are fantastical creatures, but they are Black-coded (of a very specific type of Black person; even!)

Youtuber KermitCurry explains and reinforces what I’m also going to explain here, but with a cool drawing of (the gorgeous) Grimmjow. She’s a Black artist and animator; go check her out and support her!

Here is a list of a few characters both canonically and Black-fanonically Black-coded:

When Coding Characters as Black

To keep it simple: if the rules apply when designing and writing a Black character, the same rules apply when designing and writing a Black-coded character! The moment you decided that this nonhuman entity was going to resemble a human group of people, you were obligated to be aware of the cultures and stereotypes of those people!

You can’t have a Black-coded character, emphasize a stereotype of Black people, and then say “oh, well, it’s not actually racist because they’re actually a cat-wolf creature!” Yes, it is. You’re still being racist, and upon noticing or being told, there’s no need to be defensive about it- just acknowledge ‘ah yes, I’ve messed up, I'm sorry for my actions’ and then actively work towards a better design or writing that does not include those things.

Example: Hair

Let’s say you want to draw hair on a fish-like Mer species, and you want them to be Black-coded. It would still be racist to give that Mer-woman pickaninny hair, even if "well they're not really Black!" You could find fancy fish scales or seaweed or something fish related to draw ‘Black hair textures’, so that we understand what it’s visually supposed to represent while still being fantastical. Or a robot! Someone mentioned tubes for locs, and you could do curly wires for twists. It's possible! Get creative!

I’ve been asked numerous times about Black hair on furries. Not that I’m the most educated on furries or furry culture- I am not- but they’re already anthropomorphic animals that talk, have human hobbies and habits, and often have pretty rainbow colors. It should not, then, warrant a complaint of “unrealistic” if you respectfully add Black hairstyles to them.

Example: Species

The point about furries actually brings up another good point. Watch out when you're coding Black characters on animals or animal-like species. Often people will have the “dark-skinned, struggling with balancing their humanity monster” Black/Black-coded, and the “pale skinned monster that somehow understands this battle more than them and can save them from themselves”. This is rooted in racist imagery.

I have mentioned it before in response to an ask, but if the only people you find yourself coding as your ‘monkey/animal/monster/beast’ creations are Black and/or dark-skinned, you are- however intentional it is or isn’t- replicating a racist, dehumanizing pattern in league with King Kong and ‘ravishing the white woman/body’. I’m not inherently ‘rugged and masculine’ as a queer Black woman, thus meant to be pushed into the werewolf role. Black men aren’t beasts that can’t control their violent impulses, thus meant to be pushed into the animalistic role. Why do you think Black bodies being beast-like is sexy? Why do you think we are not physically capable of delicacy? Of gentility?

This doesn’t mean that Black characters can’t be werewolves or those sorts of creatures- but you need to be writing/designing with intent, and that means recognizing when you just ‘thought it looked cool’, and that thought turned out to be a racist belief upon further reflection.

Example: Skin

Let’s say your demon species has dark grey skin bc they're rock people or something- yes, the grey skin is because it's a demon species, we recognize that it's not desaturated brown skin. Fine. But God forbid that this grey-skinned ashen group of Black-coded characters are the unequivocal villains? And everyone else that isn’t Black-coded are the ‘good guys’? But ‘it’s okay, because they’re not Black, they’re grey!’? Yes, this is still racism. There’s no getting out of it.

Example: Intelligence

If your Black-coded species is the one that is ‘less cultured’, ‘talks funny’, supposed to be ‘stupid’, or in need of some good (white) character to ‘change their ways and become better people’… Just don't do that. I should not have to say this. Black people are not less intelligent, or ‘more inclined to brawn over brain’, 'more likely to act out of instinct', ‘in need of more education/direction’, or every other reason that was used to justify our enslavement and now, present arrest and imprisonment rates.

Example: Culture

This segues from my last point on intelligence. There’s arguments on coding species that are meant to be "savage" or "inhuman", giving them stereotypical loin cloths or tattered clothes and having them "need to be saved". Now, I'm not informed enough about D&D to make valuable commentary on the existence and history of orcs. However, if you've decided to create an Orc culture, and it's clear that your imagery is taken from Black and/or Indigenous cultures, in addition to the language of savagery and white saviorism itself… That's extremely racist. And if you're thinking "Ice, of course no one would do that in 2024", Yes. Yes, they would. The bar is low, but don't ever assume people can't, don't, and won’t find a way to limbo under it.

Black and Brown people don’t need to be ‘saved’ from our own cultures or ‘introduced’ to anything. We don't need to be 'made better'. If that’s the narrative that you find yourself buying into while you write your story, Black or Black-coded characters, you need to step back and evaluate.

How This Imagery Lasts

Jim Crow Museum- Racist Cartoons and Anti-Black Imagery

This is obviously not everything I could put here as a example, but I wanted to offer a small example of how heinously racist imagery has made its way into the present. From depicting Serena Williams as an overgrown, childish, large-lipped Black woman (and whitewashing Afro-Japanese woman Naomi Osaka into the ideal, victimized blonde white woman), to Lebron James’ Vogue photo (this Black, married man now suddenly slave to the intensity of ball and white women for this cover), to the entirety of the Black Pete festival in the Netherlands.

This is imagery and behavior that evolves and lasts. What you put to paper will have an effect on someone else's ideas. You might not even think you believe these things, but someone looking at your art or reading your work will think you do! You should not want to be evoking any of this, coded or not, regardless of ‘if there’s a human involved’ because frankly… well, people already don’t see Black people as humans. We need to be treating our Black and Black-coded characters with care, and that means doing good research and avoiding replicating caricatures.

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Three

Featuring : Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Rhys is not happy when he finds out Azriel left you in Autumn. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, mention of SA, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One | Part Two

You stood on the side of the room, next to Mor, as Rhys let out all his anger on Azriel. You would’ve let him keep going, but you started to feel a tug in your gut, telling you to stop Rhys.

You looked at Cassian as he eyed you and you gave him a simple nod. “Rhys, stop. Please.” You said, but there was little pleading in your tone.

Cassian put a hand on Rhys shoulder as he pulled back, then stood up. “I will never forgive you for this.” Rhys said and stepped back. You were pretty sure Azriel was unconscious until you watched him sit up, holding his ribs.

“Neither will I.” Azriel said, not even looking up at Rhys as he walked out of the room.

You waited, watching as Cassian helped Azriel up and sit on the couch. “I’ll go get Madja.” Mor said.

Azriel face was completely swollen, his nose was broken, his ribs were probably as well… but you noticed as the small cuts slowly started to heal. “No,” Azriel said. You rolled your eyes, always wanting to suffer, he is.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You said. “You’re no use if you can barely see or move.” You said and looked over to Mor, nodding your head so she could go get the healer. Quickly, Cassian went after Rhys and Amren disappeared. They must have known that you needed time to discuss by yourself.

“You could’ve fought back.” You said, leaning against the wall still.

“It was no use… I deserve it. I’ve been waiting for it for 50 years.” He said, peering up at you. His shadows circled your ankles, like incessant toddlers.

“Why did you leave me that night?” You asked.

“I-“ he started and then paused. “I didn’t think you wanted me watching over your shoulder the whole night. And Mor really was upset… I knew you could handle yourself if you got in trouble.” He said, then stopped at the words. “Why didn’t you go to the Moonstone Palace?” He asked.

“Because I didn’t want to go to the Night Court if Rhys wasn’t there.” You said. “And even after I thought it would make a difference, I quite liked Autumn.”

“With Eris?” He let out an animalistic, possessive growl.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “When he was there, yes. I enjoyed his company. He kept me safe.” You said, feeling the need to defend the male that had done nothing but be kind to you, shelter you, for the past 50 years.

“He’s a monster. What he did to Mor-“

“Mor hasn’t told the entire story.” You spat.

“He our enemy.” He said.

“Your enemy sheltered me from Amarantha for 50 years. Your enemy stopped me from being raped. Your enemy helped heal me when my wings were just about burned to ashes.” You said, walking closer to him. Azriel stood up as you made your way to him, wincing we he did so.

“He did it for his own gain. He’ll turn on you as soon as he gets the chance.” Azriel said.

You clenched your fists in your hands. “Eris has never turned his back on me. He has never left me. That was you. So tell me why I should trust you anymore than I should trust him?” You asked.

“He’s not your mate!” Azriel said. Your breath hitched, stumbling back away from him.

“I don’t have a mate.” You said, just above a whisper.

“Yes you do. I’m your mate. The bond snapped the night… everything happened.” He said.

You narrowed your eyes, tears forming as you shook your head. “My mate wouldn’t leave me in ‘enemy’ territory.” You said and took another step back when he went to step towards you. “You are not my mate.” You said, holding back a sob as you turned away.

“(Y/N)-“

“I need time, Azriel.” You said, then ran up the stairs towards your bedroom. There was only one place that you could clear your head and your thoughts.

You were going to Autumn.

Eris knew you were at the cabin the second you winnowed into it. He had wards set in place to make sure no one but you and him, and anyone you allowed in, could enter. He got your note, and hoped that you would return soon enough.

Once he got away from his father, he went straight to the cabin.

He was shocked to see you sitting on the couch, wiping away tears.

"What happened?" He asked. You didn't even flinch at his voice. You knew he was there. You hoped he would come so you could confined in him.

"Azriel is my mate." You simply said, sniffing as you wiped the tears that streamed down your cheeks. Ever since he said it, so much more of your life had made sense. Why you were always so drawn to him, more worried about him on missions than your brother or Cassian... Why you would always do anything to keep him from harms way. But did he feel the same about you? He had left you with your enemy, alone, without anyone to defend you. His mate. He left you. How could you ever get over that?

You told Eris what you were thinking, how it all happened. Once he sat down next to you, he rested a hand on your knee. "You don't have to accept it right away. Cauldron, you don't have to accept it at all. But if you want to work on it with him, you can." He said. "And if not, if you can't even stand to be around him, then you come here. And you hide away or act as emissary to the Autumn Court, but you'll be away from him. Whatever you need, (Y/N), I will help you." He said.

Azriel's words gnawed at you. He will turn his back on you the first chance he gets. But in all your years of knowing Eris, he had never once been cruel, or unkind, to you. He had supported you every single time. Unlike Azriel, who left you when you needed him most.

"Can I stay here for a little bit?" You asked timidly. "I'll send a note to Rhys... if you can allow him to cross the borders and just talk with me... I just need to explain." You said.

Eris gave you a gentle smile, one you were sure only you saw. "I'll speak with my father.." He said and stood up. "Do you need anything else?" He asked.

You took a shaky breath and shook your head. "No, I'm just going to stay here for a little while. Clear my head." You said.

With that, Eris left the cabin and you got started on your note to Rhys.

You stayed in Autumn for a year, only visiting Velaris when Rhys asked you to. You were an expert in the knowledge of Prythian's history, a hobby you took up as a young child in Windhaven, and he needed you for the war against Hybern. And he wanted you to meet his mate, Feyre. Eris told you that was the girl who saved everyone. She was once friends with Lucien.

You were there in Hybern when they decided to try and trick him, break in. But then Tamlin and Lucien showed up. With both of Feyre's sisters.

And then Azriel almost died, Hybern holding him hostage as Feyre's sisters were plunged into the Cauldron. You felt every moment, felt every restraint on your body as you tried to get to Azriel. Despite your tenacious relationship with him, he was still your mate. Your first instinct was to protect him and save him at any cost.

You collapsed next to him when his wings were shredded, holding onto him as you all winnowed back without Feyre. You healed his wings as best you could until Madja was there, telling you to stand back. You couldn't leave his side. Not while he was this hurt. Not while he might never fly again. That was already taken away from you. You would not let it happen to your mate.

Your mate. When he was healing was the first time you used it in an enduring way. Not towards him, but to Mor. Who came in and asked how he was doing. "My mate is doing fine." You growled out, obviously agitated that another female was in the room. Nonetheless, one that he had pined over for centuries.

When he was healed, you stayed in Velaris. Opting to help Rhys figure out a way to get Feyre back from Spring safe and sound. Now that she was High Lady, and your sister by law, you had even more to worry about when it came to your family.

And then Azriel started to hang around Elain. Steering her around like a puppy he found on the side of the street. You started to notice similarities to him and Mor, when he would follow her around. Doting on her every need.

Once night, you had enough. You went to Rhys immediately, the jealously in your gut building the rage inside of you.

"I'm going back to Autumn. I can send you encoded notes from there. I'll be closer if anything happened to Feyre and she needs a way out." You declared. Rhys didn't put up a fight, understanding your frustration.

You gave Azriel the courtesy of leaving a note, explaining to him that if he wanted to act like a true mate, he would help you. If he instead wanted to dot on Elain, who was barely more than a shell of a faerie, he wouldn't come to Autumn. He would stay in Velaris and do just that: be Elain's keeper.

So you traveled to Autumn and stayed in your cabin, worry clinging to you more and more as the hours passed by. Why had you given Azriel a choice? Why did you leave without saying anything? Why didn't you talk to him?

The questions consumed you so much you didn't hear the first knock at the door. Or the second. But you heard the third as the familiar male pounded harder and called our your name.

Part Four (Azriel) | Alt Ending (Eris)

A/N: A little cliffhanger... who is going to be on the other side of the door???

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[hollowdeath]

tied down (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU

summary: you and harry potter, the biggest flirt at hogwarts, have been secretly hooking up for weeks after playing hard to get. harry's been dragging his feet when it comes to making things official, so when his flirty tendencies get him in trouble, you decide to play him at his own game and win.

content warning: mentions of hooking up, toxic harry, alcohol, jealousy, angst. briefly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: trying to write shorter blurbs between my longer requests, so please let me know if you like this! i also think it's my first sfw blurb, but trust that i'll be back w the smut in no time <3

harry was known to be a player around hogwarts. he definitely wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted, as he wasn't often rejected. girls seemed to fall for him before he even got the chance to flirt with them. however, that seemed to change when you came to hogwarts.

harry had immediately tried to hit on you, of course. but he knew there was something different about you right away. not only were you the prettiest girl he'd ever talked to, you were also the hardest to get.

you didn't fall for harry's tricks right away and saw through his act. at first you were a bit put off by his player attitude, but you thought he was cute, so you decided to keep him around to see how far he'd actually go for you. you weren't one to be charmed and dropped within a week. if harry really liked you, he'd have no problem working for you.

so, that's what he did. harry focused his attention on you, made time outside of his friends to be with you, and was actually starting to feel real feelings for you. with other girls there was just this instant attraction, which would then fizzle out after harry got what he wanted. with you, however, the feelings only got stronger the longer you kept him guessing. he found himself intrigued by your clever personality and completely enamored with your humor.

after a while of pining for you, you finally gave in to him a bit. it was hard to hold yourself back from something you also wanted, but it was worth making him fight for it.

harry had asked you to help him 'study', which of course meant you were actually working on your assignments while harry was drooling over you the entire time. you didn't mind for the most part, he can be pretty cute when he gets caught staring, but you weren't about to be the only one working.

"can't you focus on anything for more than 2 seconds?" you had asked harry with a laugh, turning to meet his gaze on you. you were sitting in the library in a secluded section, a dim light above your heads as the sun began setting outside of the windows next to you.

"you. all day." harry smirks, looking you up and down. you rolled your eyes, but harry saw the blush on your cheeks. "and you can't even do that without getting distracted." you tease him, smirking in return as you close your textbook.

"a guy runs into a pillar one time…" harry mumbles, annoyed. you're laughing at the memory, your hand covering your face. "it wasn't funny!" harry insists, but your laugh is making him crack a smile.

you look at him again, and he's enamored with the sight of you. giggling, blushing, the lighting so beautiful around you he swears he believes in angels now. you shake your head at him, still smirking and chuckling. "it was pretty funny." you told him, leaning towards him from laughing so hard in your seat.

"you're pretty." harry deadpans, his eyes searching you over and over. you really were pretty, prettier than harry could ever put into words.

you would normally roll your eyes or scoff at harry's attempt to flirt with you, but he wasn't flirting. he was being genuine. his eyes were honest and full of admiration for you in that moment.

so, you just leaned in and kissed him.

it was simple, sweet, and opened the gates to so much more over time. harry took it as an invite to start kissing you at random, intimate moments as well. nothing more than a kiss for a while, until you were the one to actually push it further by making out, giving harry love bites, touching over clothes, which then lead to touching under clothes…

within a few months you two were hooking up in secret nearly every week. harry had flings here and there before but never anything exclusive and extended like things have been with you. and while you found the secret hook ups to be exciting and fun at first, you didn't want to just be another girl on harry's roster. you were really starting to like him, and didn't want to see yourself get played.

whenever you tried to joke about becoming official, harry would laugh you off or ignore it completely. he knew it was starting to frustrate you, but he'd never been in a relationship before and he was afraid it wasn't what he really wanted. of course harry had feelings for you, feelings he's never felt for someone before, but he's always wanted to keep his options open. besides, he liked your casual hookups. was that so wrong of him?

he liked moments like right now, sitting across from you in the gryffindor common room, hanging out with a few friends and giving each other knowing looks between conversations. while everyone around you knew you two were definitely flirty towards one another, nobody really knew how much time you spent together. not just hooking up, but all the times the other has stayed the night talking for hours until the morning, or all the private study dates alone in the back of the library. you guys were definitely more than friends with benefits, but harry never acted like it when other people were around. he could tell you were starting to find it annoying rather than flattering.

your friends had been talking about a party someone was throwing that weekend when a couple girls walked through the room on their way out to leave. "guess i should start asking around for a date then, huh? what about you, you seem fun." harry's friend called towards one of the girls. they both turned to him, looked at each other, and laughed, making you laugh to yourself.

"what? i clean up nice!" he tried to redeem himself. the girls scoffed at him. "yeah, right," one of them said sarcastically. "yeah," the other said, still giggling as she looked towards harry. "besides, i'd rather go with your friend." she says in a flirtatious voice.

a few of your friends give you a side eye, but you just smirk and look at harry, waiting for his response. he glanced at you before looking at the girl and laughing nervously. his friend laughed heartily. "i don't think he's available that night..." he said, turning his head towards you.

harry throws his hands up defensively, a smirk on his face as he looks the girl up and down. "hey, you never know. i could be." he says with a chuckle. more eyes are drawn to you as you look at him with a curious expression.

"call me then." the girl says with a wink before leaving with her friend, giggling the entire way out the door.

there's a silence in the air as everyone looks between you and harry. he sees everyone's concerned eyes and becomes confused. "what?" he asks with a laugh.

you scoff at him, amused at his confusion. "what was that?" you asked, your tone still playful as you gesture to where the girls were. "what? it was a joke!" harry says, his hands raised in defense again. you click your tongue and roll your eyes, an evil smirk growing on your face. "oh, come on, [y/n]," harry says with an exasperated voice, leaning back in his seat.

"i don't know, harry, that was cold." harry's friend says with a nervous laugh. "yeah, [y/n]'s sitting right here." one of your friends reminds him.

you look back at harry, who's now rolling his eyes. "i was kidding. besides, we never said we were going together," he argues, pointing in your direction. all eyes fall back on you as a few "ooh"s are let out under breaths. you cross your arms, still giving harry that same evil smirk.

he looks at you again, his eyes softening at your expression. "stop, i'm not–""no, you're right. we never said that," you interrupt him with a sarcastic, knowing tone in your voice.

harry gave you a look, knowing what you were doing. "you never know, i could still find a date," you tell your friends, who start laughing with you. harry's friend looks towards him nervously, but his eyes were narrowed in on you. "right, harry?" you ask him innocently.

harry's tongue runs across his teeth, feeling his blood pressure rise just from thinking about you with another guy. however, he's not about to let you have the upper hand in front of everyone just like that. "yeah, sure. i could too." he says coldly.

still smirking, you nod your head and stand from your seat on the couch. "perfect, guess we gotta go find me a dress, yeah?" you ask your friends who eagerly jump up to join you on a shopping trip. on your way out, you wave a casual goodbye towards harry without another word.

harry's friend hits his shoulder, laughing at him. "you fucked up," he tells him. harry shrugs him off. "whatever, we're not even dating. besides, she won't actually bring another guy." harry tries to convince himself, still staring at the door. "if you're not dating then why would you care, mate?" harry's friend's still laughing at his misery when harry gets up to go to his room.

harry doesn't hear from you the rest of the week, and gets incredibly anxious the night of the party thinking you actually might show up with a date. by the time he's on his way with a few friends, all he wants is a drink to calm his nerves. because, well, so what if you showed up with a guy? you weren't his girlfriend, and that's how harry wanted it, right?

"nervous about something, harry?" one of them asked, snickering with the others. "shut the fuck up." harry snaps, only making them laugh harder at him. "lighten up, mate. just shag someone else tonight and get over it." another teased him. harry just stayed quiet and ignored their taunts.

harry's already finished with his first drink before he notices you entering the room. you looked fucking incredible. the dress, the hair, the makeup, everything was perfect. any other time he would've been thrilled to see you so dolled up, but he knew you only did this tonight to spite him. you knew exactly what you were doing and you were doing it well.

you were laughing with a few friends and getting your first drink when you spotted harry, already staring you down. you instantly smirked and gave him a look from head to toe before turning away and following your friends to the other room to dance.

harry followed as well, his friends joining behind him to find girls to dance with. the music was too loud to think, but harry's mind was racing watching you sway your hips to the song as you joined the crowd of dancing students. he tried to keep an eye on you but you disappeared into the sea of faces.

"just have fun, mate." one of harry's friends yelled to him over the music, patting him on the shoulder. harry gave him a half smile, nodding in his direction. he was right. if you were going to be like that, harry could play along too. he was the player first, anyway.

scanning the rest of the room, harry finds a decently pretty girl on the edge of the crowd and begins talking her up. he's only half-interested in the conversation with the clearly tipsy girl, his eyes still searching the room to find you again.

he's about to give up and go looking for you when you suddenly come into his view, only a few feet away. you were dancing in front of some guy, he looked like a kid in harry's eyes. you were chatting with him, your hands messing with the bottle in your hand as your hips continued to sway. you weren't even close to him or seemed to be flirting with him at all, but just seeing you with another guy looking as good as you did made harry's fists clench. 

you glanced in his direction and he immediately turned to the girl in front of him and began laughing, nodding his head to the music, pretending he never saw you. once harry felt your gaze drift away, he looked back, and you were gone.

sighing, harry says his goodbyes to the drunk girl and gets another drink for himself, chugging half of it before coming back up for air. he stands by the table for a minute trying to let his heart rate slow before hearing your laugh entering into the room.

harry turns and sees you saying your goodbyes to a different guy than the one from before, some tall kid with terrible posture that harry could easily take on. as he leaves the room, it's just you and harry next to the drinks. you turn and see him, a surprised smile on your face. "hi," you say politely, stepping around him to grab another drink.

"how long were you planning on torturing me, exactly?" harry asked you, sounding angrier than he meant to. you just chuckled to yourself, a confused look on your face as you removed the cap from your next bottle. "what do you mean?" you asked innocently.

harry let out an angry huff, staring at you with his jaw set. "you know exactly what you're doing." harry deadpans. you look at him knowingly, taking a swig of your drink before shrugging. "i'm just having fun." you told him with a smirk. "yeah, i can see that." harry spits out. you're clearly reveling in his jealousy which is only frustrating him further.

he looks you up and down once more and can hardly contain himself. your skin looks so soft, and you smell even better than you look. he's never seen you in such a short dress and it's driving him insane knowing it's not just for him. don't these losers staring at you know harry's the only one that's seen what's under this dress? that he knows all your favorite spots to be kissed, your weaknesses, your fantasies? that he's been fucking pining over you for months to get your attention?

speaking of losers, another one comes into the room and walks straight up to you, ignoring harry like he was never there. "hello, beautiful," he said in a voice that made harry aggressively roll his eyes, turning his head to look away, his hands balling into fists again.

"saw you on the dancefloor and figured i'd ask for a song," he invites you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "you've got every eye on you tonight, yeah?" the loser says, causing harry to lick his teeth and turn his angry stare back to you.

you were smiling at the guy politely, too politely for harry's taste, before turning him down gently. "no problem, maybe i'll win you over later." he says with a wink before leaving, never acknowledging harry once.

you looked back at harry with a smug smile. "really? i'm right here." he says incredulously, throwing his hands up. you can't help but laugh. "doesn't feel good, does it? at least i rejected him." you make your point with raised eyebrows, taking another drink.

harry sighs, the anger subsiding as he sets his drink down. "look, it was a bad joke, okay? i wanted to come with you this whole time, and i think you know that." he says with a pout. you just continue smirking. "i know." you say simply.

"then why? why are you doing this to me?" harry begs, a hint of anger still present behind his guilt. you laugh again, and it only makes harry more confused and upset. "just enjoy yourself, harry." you tell him, patting his shoulder like his friend did earlier as you left behind him.

harry downs the rest of his drink and half of his third before returning to the room with the music, seeing a few of his friends dancing with some random girls. as harry walks through the crowd, a girl grabs him by the shoulders and begins dancing with him to the beat of the music. harry looks at her, looks around, and sees you to his right.

dancing with yet another guy.

this time he was holding your hand as you swayed your hips to the music, watching you with a hunger in his eye. harry's rage immediately returned. he looked down at the girl who grabbed him and pulled her closer to him, moving his hips to the beat with her. after a moment he looked back at you and caught your eyes for just a second before you returned to dancing.

harry continued to move with the girl half heartedly in an attempt to get your attention for a few minutes before he saw you heading for the front door with your friends. just as harry broke away from the dancing girl to follow, a completely different guy cut him off to chase you out of the room.

harry could physically feel himself succumbing to his anger as he stomped towards the door. he entered the hallway and saw you standing just a few feet away, your back turned as your friends were dying laughing beside you.

as harry approaches, he sees the guy that just followed you out now in front of you, clearly drunk, asking you repeatedly if you'll give him your number. you're saying, "no, i'm sorry, no, thank you, though," with an uncomfortable laugh, trying to turn him down gently.

the guy literally drops to his knees in front of you, his hands in yours, begging for your number. "please, please, just gimme a chance, you're so–" he gets interrupted by a burp. "so pretty," he chokes out.

your friends are giggling amongst themselves before harry walks up to the guy, stunning them into silence. "she said no, fucking tosser," harry's voice bellows, picking the guy up by his collar from his knees. "now leave my girlfriend alone, yeah?" harry growls into his face before throwing him towards the door. the guy flips harry off before stumbling back into the party.

your friends gasp and laugh to themselves again, telling you they're gonna go before running off down the hall together giggling the entire way.

harry's breathing heavily, his fists still clenched staring at the door. "girlfriend?" your curious voice perks up behind him.

he turns to you, smiling at your shocked expression. his hands relaxed, as well as his mind. "yes, my girlfriend." he says matter-of-factly, taking a step towards you to put a hand on your waist. "i don't want any other guy looking at you the way they did tonight ever again. okay? you win. you're mine." harry says possessively, his hands gripping you closer to him.

you sighed. "i wasn't trying to make you mad tonight, i just wanted you to see that you're not the only one with options." you tell him smugly, your arms wrapping around his neck. "i want to be taken seriously, harry. that's all i ever wanted from you." you say genuinely, your eyes searching his.

harry looks down at you and smiles, admiring you for a moment. "you're all i've wanted since the moment i saw you," he admits, resting his forehead against yours. "i love you, [y/n]."

you smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. "i love you too, harry."

[nofingjustaninchident]

⛧° sleepy nights - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, charles beckendorf x reader - hcs on how they’d sleep with you

warnings: luke and charlie are 19

a/n: SHE’S BAAAACKK!! i’m finally not sick anymore (very questionable, but i’m definitely better) so i’m back to writing! at least i hope so. you can send your requests, preferably of not so long stuff cause i already have 5 super long drafts lol

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… sweater weather - the neighborhood

Percy Jackson

i honestly believe that he’s an awesome cuddler.

like, i just know that he likes to be the big spoon and wrap his arms around your waist and never EVER let go.

he’d totally lay his head on your shoulder and drool on it.

he plants a lot of tiny little kisses in your neck before you fall asleep.

i like to believe that he snores

but not like super loud snores and they’re not even annoying

its just super cute

and you feel so safe

he’s not super ripped, but he still has abs

so just leaning against them, warm in the night is just so soothing

he sleeps in two positions only, cuddling with you or as a starfish, with legs and arms thrown all over you and the bed

his body is naturally warm

not an uncommon warm, just normal warm

so sleeping with him is always good

whenever you sleep with him, he doesn’t want to get up to school/college the next day

he’s just too comfy to want to let go of you

and, subconsciously, he likes to trace patterns all over the exposed skin of your stomach

overall, a great person to sleep with

Jason Grace

my personal favorite for, uh, unrelated reasons

totally not because he’s literally my dream man no no

but hear me out, you won’t regret it

he’s canonically tall and muscular right

so just imagine resting against his delicious muscular chest and abs-

sorry i trailed off

ANYWAYS

he’s also a cuddler

but he’s kind of stiff in the beginning

like he’s completely touch starved

so he doesn’t really know how to act in situations like this

but the more you’re together the more he feels comfortable to cuddle and squeeze you

he loves to just pull you as close to himself as he can and bury his nose on your hair

because you just smell to good to not do that

he’s also a sweet talker

he just LOVES to whisper cute words in your ear as you’re about to fall asleep

and the first time he told you he loved you was one of these times

you were almost falling asleep in his arms and he just whispered “i love you”

you couldn’t even understand what happened until the next morning

anyways

he is the best person to sleep with

he absolutely loves when you just curl up in a ball beside him while he’s reading

he gets all fuzzy inside

he’s literally melting

he just loves you too much

Leo Valdez

look, don’t get me wrong, i love leo

but i don’t think he’d be the best cuddler in the world

for the simple reason that i think so

if u don’t like it just sush

BUT he absolutely loves to sleep on top of you with his head in your chest

i just know it

this is like super Leo Valdez of him

and you can’t tell me he doesn’t purr when you caress his hair

cause OF COURSE he does that

he’s the best person to sleep with in winter and fall, cause he keeps you warm and happy

but in the summer… not as good, i’ll have to admit

like, he’s too hot

in both senses of the word

so you just get overheated

not that you’re really complaining tho

it’s worth it

oh, and he LOVES to whisper words in spanish in your ear before sleep

if you can’t speak spanish, he’ll say… not so innocent things

our latino king fr fr

and if you can speak spanish he’ll just say how much you smell good or how pretty you are or how much he loves you-

not a cuddler, but a very good person to sleep with anyways

Frank Zhang

he’s tall and muscular

what more can i ask for my personal pillow?

oh, being a lowkey GENTLEMAN with every living being he interacts with

ok maybe that was a little bit out of context

but whatever

back to sleeping with him

if you want a best human pillow, you won’t find it

especially cause charlie died so-

i’m deeply sorry for that. not really.

he loves loves LOVES when you lay on top of him

it’s his favorite position ever

and he also loves when he can hold you

but not literally cuddle

just you laying with him, curled up against his chest but with your face to him, y’know?

i don’t know if it makes much sense

anyways

he likes to braid your hair while you’re falling asleep for you to sleep better

hazel taught him and he absolutely loves to do it in you

in the beginning of the relationship, you usually went to sleep with a dog or a cat

he was too nervous, okay? leave him alone

well, he got over it, thanks to you obviously

but sometimes he still sleeps as a dog

especially if you ask him to do it

he’ll be like “sure, if you want if” but deep down he loves it

it’s just too sooting for him when you curl up against him as a dog and pet his fur

its one of his favorite ways to sleep with you

Luke Castellan

oh, luke

i’ll never admit the uncommonly enormous crush i have on you

he’s just too hot

also i have a thing for blondes (hey jason and annabeth and a lot of other peopleee)

well, enough of me, let’s talk about this walking piece of MEAT

hehehe

he love love loves to sleep cuddled up with you

like, it’s his favorite thing in the world

the only problem (if you consider it a problem. i personally don’t) it’s because he has to sleep holding at least one of your tits

he says it makes him sleep better

technically it does, because his hands are cold and your boobs are warm

but it’s mostly because he really likes ‘em

he’s not gonna tell you that, tho

he loves when you lay on top of him and lets him caress your hair

bros seriously whipped

he’d be damned if you told him you want to sleep alone

he’ll literally become a whiny baby until you surrender

and if you don’t, the next morning he’ll be so grumpy

but that’s obviously until you give him a kiss

if the kiss doesn’t fix, another thing will

cuddles, duh

dirty mind

if you like to wake up early for morning walks, he’ll wake up and watch you get ready

but most likely never join you

Charles Beckendorf

best human pillow EVER

only god knows how much envy i felt from silena for real

he loves cuddling ofc

but it’s not his favorite way of sleeping

he’d rather much more hold you against his chest, arms and legs interlocked

because in that way he can hug, admire and kiss you anytime he wants to

i don’t know if this position makes sense help-

he loves to caress your hair and kiss your head in the process

it’s soothing for him and he knows it’s soothing for you

whenever he comes back from bunker nine super exhausted he just lays down and you hop beside him

and it’s heaven in his eyes

sometimes when things go wrong in a project he's working on he goes straight to your cabin and just stares at you

biggest puppy eyes in the world by the way

he just stares in a way like "please let me sleep here"

and who are you to say no am i right

he LOVES to snuzzle his face in your neck and breath in your scent

he just loves the way you smell

it's just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you

sorry i love 10 things i hate about you too much

your smell is one of his favorite things in the whole world

he's just so in love is sickening to anyone who's watching

anyways, cutie pie

a/n pt2: i'm sorry if charlie is short, but im too annoyed right now. i had to rewrite this shit five times because TUMBLR COULDNT SAVE THE FUCKING DRAFT HOLY SHIT- anyways hope u liked

[muwah-mumoo]

Not a bad idea…

*****************************************************************

Ryōmen Sukuna x f!reader

18+ MDNI

warning - brat!sukuna, mean!reader, humiliation, degradation, brat breaking, edging, blowjob(m! and f! receive ;), msub-slight mdom-heavy msub, rimming, fingering(m!receiving), sucking dildo, pegging, fem pronouns might have been used!

< ( this is was the winner for the poll for here yah go~ ) >

a/n : WELL THIS WAS SMTH. jt took me a bit to write but finally done LOL i got it done in three sitting so YIPEE and im pretty proud of it. sukuna isn’t like canonical bc… lazy… and also MEHH but this was pretty nice to think about and share w yall😽 also! next fanfic will be: subby!laois ;3 but anyways enjoy my sluttiesss B) also not prof read😺 sorry..!

wrd count : 3k.. (woah)

<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*

the calming sound of silence filled my ears, laying down on the couch as i breathed in the scent of the house.

Sukuna had gone out for a bit so it was just me, and when i’m alone with my thoughts it’s never a good thing. rushing thoughts of sukuna rushing my mind as i began to imagine different scenarios with him.

and for some random reason, there was nothing i wanted to see more then such a great man like the king of curses to be bent over your knee whining for more.

i chuckled to myself as i began to think about it more, what noises would he make? his faces.. and before i knew it i was waiting for sukuna to get home, patiently.

after a couple hours he finally arrived, “i’m home” he called as he opened the door. i smiled and walked to him, “hey kuna! i’ve missed you” i said as i kissed his cheek as i creased his face.

he took noticed the change, you seemed to be more needy and happy then normal. he removed the thought from

his head and continued to smile at you, “really? how come” he asked as his eyebrow cocked upwards.

“well.. i’ve just been thinking..” i said in a hushed tone, making sukuna become a little upset, ‘why won’t she just spit it out’ he thought to himself. “just spit it out” he said, making me become more nervous.

“W-well i was thinking about us and i’ve been wanting to try something new…you know” i said as my cheek got a little pink, look omg away shyly. making sukuna chuckle to himself as he nodded listening to you speak, clearly amused by the obvious embarrassment.

“And i wanted to see if you’d let me take the more dominant role during sex.. just to try it out.. i’ve just been into it and never had to courage to ask someone” i asked as he gave got red. leaving sukuna with a blank expression, prossesing what you just told him.

“You wish to have be me kneel before you?” he laughed out, as i shamelessly nodded looking away. he smiled and laughed, “i’ll think about it” he said as he left to the shared room, leaving you in the living room embarrassed.

he began to think to himself as he laid himself down on the bed, why would you ever think it would be attractive to… that. his mimf rushing of thoughts, thinking of your hand roaming his body as he lost his mind with your simple touch. how your kiss on his neck would feel so good. calling him, good body as he looked down at you as you licked strips down his hole.

his cock twitching in his pants slightly as he was turning himself to mush with such lewd thoughts. he sighed to himself as he began to consider to let you take control oh him, for one night.

i mean if you wanted it so badly why couldn’t he let you since your always such a sweet thing with him.

“Y/n” he called from the room, making the hair in your arms rise. i get up and walk to the room, opening the door slowly as i walked in and looked at him, “yeah?” i asked, looking at him. noticing the way his cock began to twitch slightly under your gaze, making you gain a little more confidence.

“have you been thinking about it kuna~?” i laughed as i smiled softly at him. making his face crunch up, yet his cheek couldn’t help but light up, “of cours that’s what i said id do.” he huffed out, frustratedly. i walk closer to him and cup his face, “no need to be so frustrated~” i chucked.

he grunted, making you giggled, “well what have you through about?” you asked making his face become red. “i thought about it and i don’t see any harm in letting you take over.. it’s once.” he said as he looked away clearly beginning to get embarrassed.

i crawl in the bed and kiss his forehead, “yeah you want me to make you feel good ?” i asked as i looked at him with loving eyes, watching his body twitching under your touch. making him glare at you, earning a giggle from my lips, “what’s wrong? we can stop if your not comfortable” i said as i backed up and sat up, causing him to grunt and grab it our hand. “No. don’t stop… your just make it even more embarrassing.” he huffed out as he put his hands in his face, an attempt to hide it.

i laughed, “you think this is embarrassing? i’m not even close to being done with you. imagine how embarrassed i must feel when you fuck me, now that’ll be you~” i whispered into his ear, making his cock leak pre. “now why don’t you be a nice slut for me and undress yourself, hm?” i asked as i cocked my head to the side watching him.

he clentched his teeth, yet following the order and stripping off his clothes and underwear. putting himself on display for you, spreading his legs as he sat looking at you with a red face.

i smiled, “your so good aren’t you? you want this bad don’t you?” i asked him as i crawled closer to him, placing a hand on his chest and touching his shoulders and arms, making him wince. i took notice of his small reactions to the touches, smiling to myself.

“What convinced you to do this kuna?” i asked kissing his shoulder and watching his reactions, his face hot and sweaty from the touches, making his mind turn into mush. “I-i thought about how stupid it would be to let a mere human be beneath me.” he said harshly, then looking away “but your not just any mere human. so i don’t see the harm in doing something like this with you, since you have let me do this to you before~” i laughed then being cut off from you licking his nipple.

“why don’t you focus on now, isn’t that more interesting?” i asked him as i looked up at him still playing with his nipples. He bit his lip and his toes curled, how could such a small thing make his mind go so blank?! i kissed his nipples and then moved down his body, hovering above his aching red cock. i look down at it, peer oozing out from

your glare earning a small switch from his cock. “Don’t stare. do something atleast” i blurted out, already clearly irritated.

“Kuna i need you to be patient. if your good and listen to me ill be nice but if you disobey me i will punish you.” i said as he glared up at him, making him grunt. “what could you possible do to someone as powerful as me-“ he said only to be cut off by your mouth sucking his tip harshly, making him moan out. i stopped and looked at him, “do

not thrust into my mouth, and you can’t cum without permission.” i said as i looked at him and he nodded, “uh huh sure, just get on with it” he said as he looked down at his aching cock, admiring the way your eyes glare up at him to make sure he’s behaving.

i wrap my lips spring his tip and swirl my tongue, then taking him in and bobbin gym head up and down making him moaning, watching you “so so pretty when you suck my c-cock so well” he groaned out, placing his hand on the back of our head.

as i took him down my throat one last time, he thrusted into my mouth and gripped my hair. i grab onto his knees and look up at him, and he looked down at you with a grin as he moaned out, “Fuck .. just like that.. yeah yeah i’m going to cum~” he said as he thrusted faster and gripper your hair tighter.

tears began to form in my eyes as he cock hit the back of my throat so harshly. i dug my nails into his knees, a warning to stop but he continued. ‘i don’t care about whatever dumb punishment you had for me’ he thought as his jaw hung open as his seed filled your throat.

with a loud grunt he came down your thrust and released your hair. i take his cock out of my throat and swallow his seed and cough. “sukuna.” i said glaring at him, “you know i hate that.” i said as i stood up and looked down at him.

sukuna sighed, “alright im sorry, got too carried away.. you just felt too good~” he smirked and i continued to glare at him. “lay down and hold your legs up” i said in a serious tone. making him stare at you, “serious-“ i cut him off with me, “you heard me bitch” i said making his eye twitch. although the hated the.. uncomfortable position.. he was interested to see how’d you punish him.

as he got lost in his thoughts, he felt a wet, warm tongue lick his hole, making his eyes widen at the sensation and look at you only to see your head lowered and your hands holding his thighs. he spread his arms out and gripped the sheet as i entered my tongue into his tight hole, earning small whines from him.

i look up at him, a beautiful scene before my eyes, sukuna laying in his back as he held his legs up, his stomach muscles flexing with the pleasure with his head thrown back. his adam’s apple moving as he gulped. i took my tongue out and inserted a finger into him.

his head shot back up as he looked at you, his eyes watering and foggy with lust. i curled my finger as it discovered his insides making his head hang back down. his mouth hung open, whines and moans rolling out his mouth as he rolled his eyes back as you inserted a second finger.

i laughed and smack his thigh playfully, making him moms out. “you liked that didn’t you?” i smiled as i then rubbed his ass making his nod shamelessly.

i took my finger out making him grunt, “N-no don’t sto-“ he sod only to be cut off by my fingers entering his mouth, playing with his tongue and sukuna drunk of the pleasure couldn’t help but let your fingers play with him.

“Lay down and count for me, alright~” i said as i rubbed his ass, giving it a sweet kiss. “don’t even thin- AH-!” he yelped out due to my hand smacking his ass.

“One..” he said lowly.

my hand raised and smacked him harder.

“Ah FUCK! T-two..” he whimpered

i giggled while rubbed the red mark that began to appear, then spanking him again.

“T-THrEE..!” he said, some pre oozing out his tip.

my hand raising again, smacking him, “FOur!.. fIve~!… siX… sevENN.. a-ah fu-Eight! Eight… mhmm NinE!… T-ten..~” he whined out, making me rub his ass and kiss his leaking cock, “good job~”

as he laid on the bed, in a haze from the slinging from

his ass. i got up and before he knew it i was standing behind him with a 8in strap attached by a harness to my hips. “Kunaa~~” i said as i pressed the cold tip onto his hole making him breath out heavily.

“W-what is that..” he asked as he looked over his shoulder, making me giggle. “it’s one of my dildo~ i choose this one specifically for you since your such a slut im sure you can take this cock hm?” i raised an eyebrow as i slapped the tip on his hole.

“O-Of course i can… I am the king of curse-… ah- fuck.. yes keep in doing that” he said as he arched his back the dildo slamming into his prostate making his tongue roll out. “yeah? you like that you slut?” i said as i grabbed his hands and held with with a hand behind his back, with my other hand grabbing a fistfull of his hair as i slammed my hips into his, drilling into his hole so nicely as he moaned out.

i laughed, “look at how slutty you became? all with a dildo in your ass?” i said as i whispered into his ear, i lift his head from his hair and force him to look at me. his face is red and hot, his mouth hanging out as pornagaphic moans left his lips. eyes rolled back as the toy hit all his sweet spots, “y-you keep.. ah fuck.. filling me up so.. s-so well” he mumbled out, becoming high off the pleasure.

i smiled and looked at him as he looked into my eyes blankly, his mind is to foggy, thoughts melting away as you stare down at him. head full of how beautiful you look with that confident look in you eye looking down into his eyes, making his body feel good.

i leaned in and kissed his lips and he moaned around my lips, i began to thrust harsher into him making him part the kiss and moan out, “y-yes! please please! oh lord im going to cum keep going” he whined out as he looked at you, then groaning and whining. “What? why’d you do that! keep making me feel good” he tried to threaten only for me to stare back to him as i laughed.

“remember you deserve to get punished. so i don’t want to be too mean but im edging you once and then your going to cum the dildo to show me how bad you want to cum” i said as i stared at him, smirking as i watched his eyes roll.

he then got up and kneeled in between my legs, “fine then~ im not shy” he huffed out as he then looked at the thick 8in dildo staring back at him. he gulped and then took the tip into his mouth, looking up at you almost as if he was looking to see if you were enjoying the view.

“you can take it deeper, kuna~” i said as i put my head on the back of his head and lowered his head slowly making him gag, but he kept going to make sure that you didn’t think he was less then. “there you go good boy” i smiled then bobbing his head on the dildo, “look at how pretty you look with your lips around my cock” he mocked sukuna as he told you early. then thrusting into his throat, making his eyes open wide, “you can take it” i said as i thrusted my hips in and out of his mouth.

he closed one eye and kept the other open as tears began to form. “yeahh there you go pretty boy. look at you doing do well hm?” i said as he now slowly began to bob his head on the dildo, his mind so melt now. all he wanted was his dildo to make his mind tune to mush, it felt so good to have you take such good care of him.

“here why don’t you sit in my lap, and ride my cock until you make yosield cum, yeah? show me how bad you need it slut” i said as i grabbed his hips as he sat down onto my lap, slightly embarrassed but at this pint not caring anymore.

he’s gone so far at this point he didn’t even care anymore, all he wants to be able to feel and hear you making him feel good. he just needed you to be inside of him stretching his insides out as he moaned out as your dildo hit his sweet spots.

“you can do it. show me how bad you need to cum” i said as i kissed his shoulder, helping him lining his hole with the tip of the dildo, sukuna sinking down on it starter quickly withh a sigh, “so full” he said as he sat there getting used to the feeling of being so full again.

then slowly he began to lift his hips up and down, trying to find a rythym that was comfortable for him. after some slow thrusts he found a pattern and ride your cock rather fast, “a-ahh~~ yess fill me up” he said as he rolled his tongue out. i thrusted up into him as well, out hips making loud claps as his hole let out lewd, gushing sounds from being stuffed to the brim.

with all this sukuna felt his high intensising, indicating that he was close, his thoughts clouded his mind ‘need permission..’ he thought. he opened his lips to beg to cum only to have moans leave his lips, “Please..! please i’m so close.. i’ve been good! please.~~” he begged as he continued to slam down into your hips, making you smile and nod.

he continued to ride te dildo, his pace becoming faster and sloppier but the second. then with your hand grasping his aching cock, he couldn’t help but cum all over your stomach and chest.

he rode his orgasm down, then removing the dildo and plopping onto you making you, huff out from the huge man on top you, only for a thank you to be heard from his lips.

i look at him and he avoids eye contact, “thank you.. for that..it wasn’t as bad as i thought and maybe we can try to again” he said his face red from the strong orgasm. making me laugh as the pet his head, running my hands though his hair, “really?! i’m glad your enjoyed yourself” i smiled as i kissed his forehead and held his hand with giggles leaving my lips.

“mhm yeah thanks..” he said as he cradled you and held you as you both ended up falling asleep in each others grasps.

>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*

welp it’s 2am… i’m.. tired and i didn’t proof read sorry if it’s sloppy -_-

[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canon: Let’s Play A Game

Yandere Reverse Baki Harem x Afab fighter Reader

Otome Game AU

TW: unhealthy behavior, yandere themes, stalking, obsession, HORROR, etc

You, a famous fighter, had accidentally died in a horrific car accident by saving the life of a child that was supposed to pass away. Luckily, a deity had taken pity on you and decided to give you a second chance at life. One where you must play a game in order to go back to your world. Romance five of the male leads and you’ll be able to return to your world. Katsumi Orochi, Baki Hanma, Kaioh Retsu, Hanayama Kaoru, and Jack Hanma are the five main males you must romance in order to go home but the deity had thrown in some other mystery men just for shits and giggles. He even gave you a house that’s exactly like your old one! Just don’t invite anyone over… Sounds simple enough right? Wrong. How were you to know these emotionally constipated men have never experienced love before?

Katsumi Orochi

The first man you met when you landed in this strange world. His eyes were wide when you suddenly appeared in the rain before him. What on earth was a woman doing in the rain by herself? He rushes over with his umbrella to place it over your head. He’s surprised by how attractive you are. How soft you look… he doesn’t realize he’s staring until you place your hands over his cheek and smile at him.

There was a bar above his head that rapidly began to grow pink when you touched him. He must be one of the male leads you had to romance… perfect!

“I’m a bit lost… can you help me?” Katsumi was quick to offer you his coat when he saw you shiver. There was something almost magical about you… he was a moth to your flame.

“Of course, here. Let’s head into the dojo.” Katsumi ushered you into Shinshinkai while the rain continued to pour. He was immediately smitten with you.

Katsumi offers you a Karate uniform to wear since your clothes are wet. The two of you share small talk and he’s excited to learn that you’re a practitioner of taekwondo. You were pretty and you could fight? It must have been destiny for the two of you to meet!

He by far was the easiest to romance or so you thought… poor you had gotten a little in over your head about this particular man. He’s so obsessive and delusional. A horrible combination but one he developed due to dedicating his entire life to karate.

Katsumi offered free training at Shinshinkai and he was always eager to spar with you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wrestle with you or to take you out to eat after training. You didn’t notice the way he’d slowly become more and more touchy. Nor did you notice how weird he was when babies were around.

“Don’t you think that baby is so cute?” Katsumi asked when a baby was sat with its mother in a table near the two of you. The baby was super cute with their chubby cheeks. “(Your name), would you ever want to have kids?”

And you stupidly told this man yes… you shared how you wanted to get married one day and have kids that hopefully wanted to be marital artists. You stupid girl! You didn’t even notice the obsession that lied behind his chocolate eyes or the lingering touches whenever he’d pin you to the floor beneath him when you sparred. Not until it was too late. Not until you’re introduced to his parents as his future wife. And there no way to run from him. He has over a million members at Shinshinkai and they’d hunt you down if you ever tried to escape from your doting fiancé.

Hanayama Kaoru

Once you had settled into your house (and carefully made sure not to invite the overly friendly Katsumi over), you ran into him on the street. It was just a chance meeting, but it was one that caught Hanayama by surprise. You had bumped into him and knocked his cigar onto him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t looking where I was going-“ You were shocked to see such a tall man covered in scars. The heart bar above his head was slightly pink by the small encounter with him. Neither one of you looked away from each other’s eyes.

Hanayama nodded his head and went to turn away but he was surprised when he heard your voice again. “You have ashes all over your jacket… please let me at least brush you off.” Hanayama blushed when you quickly brushed the ashes off him without his answer. How brazen of you! He’s never been hit on first like this…

When you walk away, you noticed his romance bar is already at twenty percent. Perhaps you’d be able to go home sooner than you thought if you kept this up?

A shame you didn’t notice the blush on Hanayama’s face. He’s never been so excited in his life… and now it was your problem. How were you to know how possessive he was?

He was a silent presence compared to the chatty Katsumi and Baki. He would randomly sit beside you when you weren’t preoccupied by the other men which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if he didn’t stare at you. His gaze was unnerving and terrifying. Yet you must accept him in order to go home. So you tolerated his presence with gentle smiles and one sided small talk. You didn’t realize how much Hanayama truly enjoyed your company.

He began to bring you gifts. Roses, jewelry, and clothing. Loud gestures of adoration despite his stoic exterior. You’d always thank him with a smile because his romance bar would rise with each gift… but his pink bar was the first to reach a blood red. Why was his bar so red? And why did you always feel as if someone was watching you?

His gifts began to become inappropriate. Rather than regular clothes, he’d gift you red, black, and violet lingerie. And then it was chocolates and invitations to fancy dinners where oysters were almost always served. You were starting to become really scared when you found out what his occupation was. How were you to know he was a yakuza boss?! And there was no escape from Hanayama, he was too powerful and he was too obsessed with you to share you.

Baki Hanma

You were on a jog when you met the twenty year old. He was sitting on a bench all alone looking so down. The heart bar above his head was a depressing shade of blue. Oh no! Why did he look so sad?

Baki was shocked when you sat beside him with a smile. You offer him your hand to introduce yourself and you offered to listen to him since he looked so sad. He instantly clung to you like a tick. You were so warm and sweet… he adored it. He’s never had affection like this since his ex girlfriend… you’re warm like a mom!

You pat Baki’s head as he cries in your arms. You’re shocked by how his heart bar sky rockets to a sixty percent with this small interaction. Holy smokes! You were crushing this game!

You exchanged numbers with him and offered him solace so kindly. Baki was so thrilled to finally have someone care about him. It was what he has always wanted…

Baki spent almost as much time with you as Katsumi did. The two friendly men running around you like little kids as they excitedly would take you on lots of dates. It was a little overwhelming.

But you didn’t think Baki would be so clingy… please don’t leave him! Don’t leave him, he’d do anything for you! Please only look at him! Love him!

Jack Hanma

The hardest to romance. This man was mean. Mean as hell. He had no interest in you whatsoever, he only had his goal of strength in mind. Jack constantly rebuffed you, but your persistence began to wear down his walls

Why did you insist on being so close to him anyways? He was a mess. He was always sweaty and he would train to the point of incontinence… did you have a piss kink? You were weird as hell and he didn’t like the way the other fighters hovered around you like helicopters. You were nothing special… at least that’s what he told himself until he overheard you defend him when someone bad mouthed him.

“Sure Jack can be a little rough around the edges, but he works harder than any of you!” Jack clenched his jaw when he heard you berate some of the fighters who commented on his methods for strength. “You don’t have half of what it takes to want to be the best.” Your words made something flutter in his heart. It was a weird feeling but it wasn’t something entirely unwelcomed.

Jack’s presence usually sent the other men running away with their tails between their legs but he began to like the way you smiled so warmly at him. For the first time in years, someone didn’t look at him like he was a monster. And he didn’t ever want you to disappear. No. Jack wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you. He’d rather die.

You became as important to him as his journey to strength. You were his one and only friend. His companion. It didn’t matter to him that there were others. Jack was just happy to have you by his side.

Jack enjoyed how you’d sit beside him whenever he sat alone or how you’d occasionally lean on him when it was cold. Jack slowly warmed up to you and his romance bar slowly began to rise. He took the longest to romance out of all the others but he’s the most normal out of all of them. Jack rarely sought you out unless he had a gut feeling you needed him. Jack slowly began to become easier to talk to… and you made the mistake of venting to him. Of showing him your most vulnerable side.

So when he saw you crying for the first time about how weird everyone was to you, something in him snapped. How dare they make you uncomfortable. How dare they make you cry! And now you realized just how over protective Jack was of you…

And from that day forth, Jack began to protect you. He was like a giant, blonde tank that shoved the other men out of the way. You didn’t have to worry anymore. Jack would protect you!

Kaioh Retsu

You met him at the dojo. Retsu was very nice to you. He was a voice of reason and usually would step between you and Katsumi when he noticed Katsumi being particularly weird to you.

You’d spar with Retsu and you were always awestruck by his Kenpo. Retsu enjoyed your compliments and even taught you some Kenpo. He was thrilled that someone was interested in his martial art. To have it be appreciated.

His romance bar was hidden from you, which was strange. Occasionally it would pop up with a high percentage but then it would fade into obscurity. Retsu would always give you a soft smile and reassure you whenever you were particularly overwhelmed. He was a really good friend.

Retsu was easy to talk to and he made the best tea. And Retsu always had a logical response whenever you vented about the other men. You felt safe with Retsu… like you could trust him.

And so you shared with him the truth of you situation. Which made the Chinese man sympathize with you. He’d help you get home!

A shame you didn’t realize how he secretly manipulated you. How he pretended to be reasonable and level headed. He used his maturity and kindness to lower your guard but he didn’t realize just how much you were hiding. You’re from another world? That would explain why you were so unique compared to everyone else in this world of his… Retsu found you fascinating.

Now Retsu was going to help you leave this world… but he was going with you. You entrusted him with such precious information and didn’t he deserve a reward for helping you?

Pickle

A wild card. You will only meet him if you decide to go hiking on a Thursday.

You were not supposed to meet him but you did. On a complete accident too. You decided to go on a hike in the forest to get away from your… suitors.

He was just hunting in the forest when he noticed you. And he was curious about you. He began to follow you around like a lost dog. It would take a few miles of hiking to notice him but once you did, you were very puzzled. Who was this guy and why was his romance bar red from the get go? And that’s when you finally put together that the red bars that were above all the men you have been around meant danger.

Pickle was quick to snatch you up in his arms but rather than attack you, he sniffed you. He was surprised to smell all those fighters he’s fought on you! It fascinated him.

You were quick to escape him and run but he chased after you. He was so happy to play! If he caught you, could he keep you? Pickle would like a mate.

A shame Baki was waiting for you at the edge of the forest. The redhead glared at Pickle who began to throw a tantrum. No fair! Pickle wanted to play with you too! To keep you and to mate with you! That wasn’t fair.

Now you didn’t leave the city often because Pickle was always watching… always waiting to strike. For you had caught his eye.

Hector Doyle

Another wild card. You weren’t supposed to meet him but you did at the dojo. He was supposedly a reformed convict, one that didn’t have much of an interest in you… at first.

Doyle was kind of mean but in a snarky way. He always had something smart to say whenever you’d talk to Katsumi. You thought he was gay when you first met him since he liked Katsumi so much. But after you got to know him, you realized he was just attached to the Karateka since he defeated him.

Doyle slowly opened up to you since you were a constant presence in Katsumi’s life. You were very nice to him despite his sharp tongue so Doyle respected you. The two of you slowly became friends… but you constantly had to stop him from stealing products from the mall. Doyle had sticky fingers despite being blind. He insisted he knew the quality of what he took by the way it smelled and felt in his fingers. It was kind of silly.

Doyle’s romance bar slowly rises up the more you go out with him. He’s secretly a softie beneath his rough exterior. (If you’re a touchy person, it’ll shoot up faster. Doyle is easily flustered). Doyle is also very jealous of Katsumi

You seemed to make his friend happy so he was happy with you… until he noticed a change in Katsumi. The Karateka was obsessed with you to the point it was concerning. At least in the way Katsumi spoke of you, since Doyle was blind.

“Katsumi told everyone that you’re his fiancée but I never heard you talk about it.” Doyle whispered to you as the two of you stretched in a corner in the dojo. The blind assassin adjusted his blindfold. “I may be blind, but I’m not stupid. Are you okay?”

Doyle was shocked when you answered back in a choked sob. “No, I’ve tried to get away but he’s sent the whole dojo after me… I’m scared, Doyle.”

Doyle was so shocked when you hugged him. His body shook when he felt his first hug since he was a child. He instantly wrapped his arms around you and lost himself within you. He could imagine a life with you. You were so sweet and you were capable… he had money from his old job as an assassin and he had favors he was owed by people. Doyle could help you escape.

You pulled away and you felt your blood run cold at the red bar that was now above Doyle’s head. Oh no…

“I’ll help you escape.” Doyle whispered in your ear. “But we’d constantly be on the run. Would you want to live like that, darling?”

The choice is up to you with him. Doyle will help you but you’d lose your opportunity to go home… forever.

Jun Guevara

Another wild card. This dashing man can be found on Fridays at the docks by his boat. He’s usually shirtless with a jacket draped over his shoulders and a cigarette between his lips. He is also very easy to attract if you ask him about the ocean. This man loves the ocean. He won’t stop talking about it and he may even give you a shell if you’re extra sweet.

Jun is incredibly flirtatious but don’t let that fool you, he’s also extremely possessive. His heart bar will only rise if you’re charismatic. You have to be able to talk the talk too. And once you successfully romance him, you have the opportunity to get onto his ship! Hurray!

Jun will share rum and stories with you if you sneak off to come see him. He’ll even drape his jacket around you and call you, “Meu amor” or “Meu anjo.” You don’t have a clue what that means but it seems like a nickname!

Jun is great to use as an escape option if the other men become overwhelming. Just keep in mind that he won’t let you off that boat, because he’s determined to make you his wife! And eventually the mother of his four children.

Biscuit Oliva

Another wild card but can be encountered if you interact with criminals (Jun or Doyle). Biscuit may ask you about their whereabouts but you should lie to him to save your friends. Compliment this man to distract him! He’s a pretty revered bounty hunter so it won’t take much.

He’s recently a widow and he’s easily flustered since he’s never been flirted with before. Oliva is very easy to romance once you stoke the fires of his ego.

Oliva is a gift giver just like Hanayama except his gifts are more from the heart rather than his pants…

Oliva will buy you very nice clothes and offer to take you abroad. His romance bar will only ever turn red if you share your woes with him.

Just like Jack, Oliva is extremely protective. And he will not lose another love so he’s willing to whisk you away and lock you up forever.

Just be his cute sugar baby and everything will be okay! So long as the other men don’t crash your date… then you may never get home.

Once you successfully romance all the men, the deity will appear to you. But sadly they won’t be able to send you home anyways because you’ve ruined the story here since all their bars all turned red. Sorry toots, but he can’t take you away from these men who are willing to kill each other to have you. The deity just hopes you can make a choice.

[saerins]

─── 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: fluff, ngl i was too lazy to proof this, childhood friends to lovers, canon-compliant (i tried), yn’s parents are just bad

notes: me ?? writing someone other than sae ?? wild . but it’s my first try at nagi so pls have mercy :’) feedbacks/reblogs appreciated !! <3

summary: it’s a little more difficult for nagi to realise his feelings compared to the average man.

i. fleeting moment

nagi seishiro was your first kiss, age ten on the swings of your backyard.

you’re only friends by chance. he was a loner on the swings in the public playground and you have a habit of picking up strays. (but until then, it had been limited to animals and not humans.)

yeah, yeah, maybe having a first kiss at the young age of ten is a little alarming, but it’s not like nagi is a bad person. if anything, he was just trying to shut you up. probably, maybe. (and it wasn’t with tongue, if anyone needs the specifics.)

“if you keep crying that loudly i won’t be able to hear my game,” nagi grumbled, eyes glued to his screen. apparently he was playing some pseudo horror game where four fighters run from a single hunter and apparently he needed to listen to the sounds to know when to run.

but really, you were ten and crying because some other boy bullied you in the playground, saying how you were so ugly and that no boy would ever wanna kiss you. given all of that, why would you even care about nagi’s stupid game?

if he didn’t want to be bothered, he shouldn’t have chased you all the way back home.

“but seishiro, am i really ugly?” you were ten and in need of immediate validation while nagi was in need of your immediate silence.

he didn’t even look up. “that’s subjective.”

even when he was young he had a smart mouth that would be able to break you.

“well then what do you think?” because honestly, even at that point, you thought nagi seishiro was handsome; he was the face claim you used to imagine all your scenarios at night before you went to sleep.

he was your knight in shining armor, coming to break you free from the cage which was your life and obligations. he was your prince charming who’d rescue you above all else. heck, sometimes he was mario and you were princess peach.

seishiro groaned when the screen shows game over and honestly, he really did think it was all your fault because he couldn’t hear anything over your incessant wailing. but then he looked at you for the first time after you cried and had the recurring thought that he didn’t want to be the reason for you to keep on crying.

“yeah, you’re pretty.”

and he puts his lips on yours like it’s no big deal.

ii. unreciprocated

fifteen is when you’re most rebellious. it’s a sickness you get from none other than mikage reo.

your family and the mikages go way back. they’d been family friends for such a long time. a part of you feels it’s not genuine, blinded by the fact that they’re always business partners and everything else stemmed from that one simple fact.

you started to play hooky from business dinners, started to say fuck off to rude old geasers who truly didn’t deserve a single dime they got.

all you ever got in return was your father’s temper and your mother’s cowardice and reo’s praises. most of all you at least had nagi’s shoulder to cry on. (he’s learned to bring along his earpiece just in case he had to meet you or accidentally bumped into you.)

“they all sicken me,” was what reo told you when you asked about his family in relation to their business. you could sympathise. sometimes all you could feel from your parents were that they treated you as a next-in-line rather than just daughter. and almost everyone around you made you feel like you were just a moneybag.

what reo felt shouldn’t have been too far off. except you thought he had it better; at least all his parents did was try to spoil him while not-so-subtly training him up to be the next ceo. he at least didn’t suffer at the hands of foul tempers and verbal abuse.

no one should have to.

“oh shit! i gotta go soon,” you realised, noticing that it was almost six and you’d made plans with nagi.

reo cocked a brow, “y/n l/n, you have other friends?”

you knew he was joking, but that didn’t stop you from landing the hardest punch you could on his arms. “hey, i’m not that inept at socialising okay?”

sure, you’d started taking caution with making friends because most of them were just after one thing: money. even at this age. which is crazy to you, at least, but you felt you had no right to think that. not when all the money you wanted was still at your disposal.

but you weren’t actually bad at making friends. it was just that maybe most people weren’t even worth the effort.

“they’re good to you, right?”

you took a moment to decide before you eventually nodded. “yeah, for sure.”

nagi was… weird, for you. but in the good sense. yeah, he’d open his mouth and ask you for money which at least told you he was honest. even if you rejected him, though, he was still beside you.

“man, what a hassle,” he grumbled when you wouldn’t buy any more food. he was broke, which meant he couldn’t eat anymore too if you didn’t buy some.

the two of you still never talked about that kiss. it never happened again, to your dismay.

you were a teen, and screw stupid teen hormones for driving you to ask him.

“hey sei, we’re good friends, right?”

“huh?” nagi was already fixated on his phone. probably some new game you didn’t know about. his earpieces were ready, around his neck. “uh, i guess?”

but that was not good enough for your feisty fifteen-year-old self.

“sei, i’m serious! would you be sad if one day we weren’t friends anymore?”

back then you didn’t know what you were doing. back then you didn’t think to yourself what it was, really, that you were trying to get out of him. maybe it was validation, and maybe it was just boredom.

you really just wanted to know nagi cared.

all he did was shrug, brows furrowed in annoyance. “that’s life, isn’t it? sometimes friends drift and sometimes they don’t.”

throwing wisdom around as if that was what you needed. and it was unfair to expect anything out of nagi as it was, but that didn’t stop you from throwing a tantrum and storming off.

(he watched you as you left, and there was something unsettling about the sight of your back moving so far away.)

iii. turning point

the world is small.

when you were sixteen you realised that the so called treasure reo told you he found was a human, who so happened to be your friend—nagi seishiro.

teeny tiny.

they also both happened to be picked by the JFU to go to blue lock. which you only found out after they’d both been gone for a week.

it didn’t surprise you though—they were both talented. it was only right they got picked. though, they also happened to be the only two people you would hang out with, so by default you felt lonely.

but at sixteen you’d learned to suck it up, hide your feelings. everything was okay—as long as you deceived yourself so. your parents were the same; overbearing and breathing down your neck and now that reo was not around for you and nagi couldn’t be your confidant, it felt much worse than usual.

everything was a transaction and you felt suffocated. it made you appreciate nagi’s unfiltered honesty and reo’s unwavering loyalty to whatever you dedicated yourself to.

“at least that reo boy has some other talents like that foolish soccer he plays,” your father berated over dinner. “and here my daughter is, good for nothing yet expects us to believe her when she says she can make a living outside of our company.”

and if you’d had other close friends, they would’ve told you that sixteen was too young to be sure what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. they’d have said your parents were unreasonable and that they were the fools.

but you didn’t. and the only friends you had weren’t around. so you ate it up. you clenched your fists where your parents couldn’t see and let them run their mouth. or, in your mother’s case, stay silent while your father made unreasonable arguments.

“and that nagi boy you hang out with,” your father turned his focus to him, “all he reeks of is laziness. i don’t get why you have to hang out with him all the time. inviting that oaf into our house like he’s welcome.”

that time your fists hit the table and you didn’t even expect it. it hurt because of how hard you hit but nothing could beat the hurt your father inflicted on your heart.

you found you couldn’t say anything, only because your father’s eyes were wide with rage at your outburst and you were still the same scared girl inside at age four when he first raised his voice at you.

“i-i’m sorry,” you choked out, which was pathetic but you didn’t want to end up murdered in your own house.

your father scoffed. “get your stupid head out of your ass or you’re cut off.”

the only time you could do that was when nagi and reo finally got their first break out of blue lock. you occupied their time for the most of it, listened to them going on and on about the matches that went on inside. though reo seemed a little mad at nagi, a little awkward around him, for some reason you weren’t privy to.

“i’m gonna head home first,” and reo was gone with the wave of a hand, something about having to settle something at home—probably nothing good.

maybe it was the lovestruck idiot in you talking, but you’d made peace with the fact that maybe you had a small crush on nagi seishiro, judging by how you acted around him. maybe it was that idiot that made you want to spend all of his free time together.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow too?” sue you, you were just trying to shoot your shot.

nagi put his phone in his pocket, for once, and you were struggling to remain standing as he held eye contact with you, calm gray eyes the bane of your existence. “mmm can’t, gotta meet isagi and the rest.”

isagi, a name you’d just learned earlier—apparently nagi thought he was strong and chose his team. maybe that was why reo was mad.

“oh, okay then.” you’d ask for the next day, but you didn’t want to get rejected twice. besides, nagi would probably just prefer playing games and resting at home. you were just friends, after all.

“was thinking we could get dinner though,” nagi told you, hands in his pockets as the both of you walked down the street.

that was the first time he ever extended an effort, you remember. and suddenly life wasn’t that bad anymore.

it was also the first time nagi asked you to feed him, not because he was playing some game but on purpose.

and you didn’t know how it turned out that way, but he ended up taking up all of your time. it was the only reason you had the ability to fill him in on your family, and he actually listened. and, like reo, he said “fuck them.”

maybe that was the point you realised maybe he did care.

but for a girl at seventeen just concerned with romance and happiness, it was paradise—until of course he went back to blue lock, taking your heart with him.

(what you both failed to realise was that he left his with you.)

iv. slow realisation

in the bleachers of his first match out of blue lock, nagi seishiro spots you easily in the front row—wearing his jersey and number, when did you buy that?

doesn’t change the fact that nagi likes seeing it on you. he’s not familiar with the feeling, but it’s equivalent to saying you like him the most, which feels great if he’s honest to himself.

what he doesn’t like is the guy next to you. sharp jawline and spiky hair wearing a business suit and his raven eyes are always peeking at you out of the corner. does he like you?

but the whistle blows and nagi forgets about you for a little over ninety minutes. he’s going to show you he can win this, with you watching from the front row, and he’ll show you why he’s the best and that other guys in business suits don’t matter.

after the game reo makes a big deal out of the fact you’re wearing nagi’s jersey and not his, and nagi finds out the guy with you was someone your dad wanted to hook you up with.

twisted business marriages.

“i’m just going out with him to shut my father up,” you admit to nagi when you’re both finally alone. (aka, after you’ve convinced reo to pry him away and leave you two alone.)

nagi’s not used to this. what’s this relief he feels? “oh, good to know,” is all he says because he doesn’t even understand himself.

he isn’t even sure why he’s here in the first place, walking you home. he’s not sure why reo left when he could’ve driven all of you home instead of just mr business-suit-guy.

“how’s it feel now, to be mr popular?” you’re not even sure why you’re asking. maybe because you feel like the gap between you and nagi grew so wide in such a short period of time and you’d do anything to hear him say that he’s still the same seishiro you knew.

your seishiro.

nagi only shrugs, “dunno. don’t really feel the difference.”

because really, apart from the fact that he’s much more busy, he’s still him—playing games when he’s free, texting you because that happens to fall in the list of things he likes to do now, and well, the only difference he feels is—he takes a peek to his side—you, somehow.

not because of anything you do in particular, but he feels different somehow. and he can’t make sense of it. he never can. how’s he supposed to? no one ever warned him about shit like this.

“uh, nagi? have you ever thought that maybe you like her?” reo tells him over the phone later that night, a little baffled by the things his usually detached friend just told him.

“you like her too though,” nagi retorts.

reo sighs, wondering how nagi ever made it to where he is. “not in the same way.”

“what do you mean?”

“figure it out yourself.”

nagi hangs up, thinking he already has it figured out. he also thinks reo will keep his mouth shut.

he doesn’t.

v. requited

it’s funny how reo rushed to call you that night, right after nagi basically told him (without saying it explicitly) that he has a crush on you.

but it’s also funny how it’s been three months since then and nagi still hasn’t said anything about it. you play ignorant around him, waiting and waiting for him to admit it himself.

evidently it’s not working.

tonight you’re just watching him on the screen, cheering him on from the other side of the world because despite being from a rich family you can’t just up and leave to another country as and when you feel like it.

besides, you’ve made peace with your parents; you’d learn about the family business willingly as long as they stopped interfering with your personal life. they surprisingly agreed.

nagi and reo win, as you expected, and as usual, the cameras trail their team as they celebrate on the field, their captain having tore his shirt off to celebrate that they’d won the tournament. it’s not long before the camera pans back to nagi, a few reporters already surrounding him.

“so nagi, how do you feel right now?”

“great,” he answers, with a sexy amount of enthusiasm. he’s rarely ever enthused, but you find it so much more attractive when he is.

nagi has his phone in his hand, you notice, and you immediately fish for yours. he’d texted you right before they started hounding him.

are you watching?

you smile as you type back.

no. congrats on becoming champions! 🫶🏼

“nagi nagi, who would you like to dedicate this win to?” the reporters are all clambering to get a chance to question him.

“oh i don’t know,” nagi says, and you catch him looking at your message before looking back at the camera. “i guess i’ll dedicate this one to this girl i like.”

you nearly spit out your drink.

“wait, does this mean you’re involved with someone? tell us, who is it!”

all the reporters get excited, and understandably, since nagi’s probably just about given them the biggest scoop for the month. they’re all looking at him, money signs in their eyes, while your jaw drops open as he overshares with the entire world.

“oh, y/n l/n, she’s been my friend since forever and i don’t know… i kinda like her a lot,” he’s saying all this earnestly, a hand scratching his neck and a blush creeping on his face, though he doesn’t look the least bit fazed.

you rush to find his chat thread.

nagi, what the fuck!!!

you did NOT just say my name on live tv!!!

on the screen, he openly looks at your messages before typing a reply as the reporters hound him for more details.

oh shit, m i not supposed to?

“nagi, is she the one texting you right now?”

and like the honest guy he is, he nods. “oh yeah, think she’s mad at me right now.”

you curl up under your blanket, flustered because nagi is way too open and way too precious.

“would you like to say anything here to her now?”

nagi looks off camera and hums in contemplation before finally deciding on a response.

“hey y/n, tomorrow i’m gonna make you mine okay? so just wait for me.”

reo finally drags him away and towards the rest of his team and his interview ends there. you switch the television off, half mortified and half flattered. your phone blows up with most of your contacts gushing over what nagi said.

leave it up to nagi seishiro to have feelings for you, not realise it until years later, not tell you in the whole three months before this and yet announces it and your full name to the entire world on live television.

in spite of how flabbergasted you are, there’s a warm sensation blooming underneath your chest, a comfort that you’ve always been looking for finally fulfilled. there’s a certain endearment in the way nagi realises and professes his feelings.

you pull up his messages again.

you better keep your word, sei.

it doesn’t take him long to respond.

don’t worry, i’ll make you mine.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

I'm a little bummed Our Month™️ is ending, so I've collected a few of my favorite payneland fics I read this month to cheer me up. I may not be good about hyping myself up, but MAN I am good at yelling about things I am excited about. If I know the creator's Tumblr, I tagged them here. Please read tags and ratings when you click through, some of these are rated E. All of them are excellent. 🩵

Pride by softestpunk (@softest-punk )

The ambiance in this fic was impeccable. All the little details are really immersive, even down to small subtle things like the fact that more people can see Charles and Edwin because of some unfortunate, but very real experiences (oh, my heart). This fic has a very satisfying ending, and it is so, so worth the read. It's one of my favs.

For I Am All Sharp Edges by letters_of_stars (I do not know this user's Tumblr , please tell me if you do)

This is a pre-series fic, which means technically it is also pre-relationship... but we know how Charles and Edwin are. 👀 All jokes aside, this fic is told from Edwin's POV and it gutted me like a fish. I just had to sit with my computer for a moment when I finished it. It is a gorgeous, heartbreaking character study, and it is quintessential for anyone who wants to unravel how Edwin came to fall deeply in love with Charles.

you will never be unloved by me (you are too well tangled in my soul) by emryses ( @emryses)

This fixed something in my brain. I don't want to spoil it for you, so please just go read it. It's a lovely fix-it fic that seems entirely plausible for the in canon universe. Masterfully done.

Like Knives Clattering to the Ground by TheGoldenOath (VoiidVagabond) ( @the-golden-oath )

I... am embarrassed to admit I probably think about this fic probably more than is normal. There's WORLD BUILDING. It's a case fic, but it's also very very hot and just... this has informed a lot of my rated E payneland head canons (specifically for Edwin). It broke my brain and put it back together the first read in the best possible way. Please go read this.

Pretty perfect by Hse11z5 ( @thenyoumaykissthebride)

I have simple pleasures. Charles calls Edwin pretty and I am here for it. This is a well written, gorgeous fic. (I also think about this one often- rated E).

That's my rec list for the moment, for I have droned on long enough (I'm sure everyone tagged here has seen me in their comment section screaming and crying and hyperventilating like an absolute loon, lol). Thank you for humoring me!

[mooniiify]

his imaginary girlfriend — jean kirstein x civilian! reader

contents: one shot, (almost) canon compliant, fluff; we’re gonna ignore that they’re like 14 here imagine they’re a little older idk

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

after two whole years of being away, jean finally gets to go back to trost.

granted, it was only because they were there to simulate an evacuation drill, so just for more practice. jean was nothing but lucky that it happened to be in his hometown.

he held the straps of his heavy military backpack as he walked down the familiar streets with connie, sasha and marco in tow. he was looking around, trying to take everything in — he couldn’t believe it’d been two years. everything looked the same; was he not at that parlor just the day before he left for the cadet corps?

“hey, jean.” sasha suddenly appeared on his shoulder, making him jump just a little. her eyes were wide, smile bright. “are you going to visit that y/n you’re always talking about?”

before jean could answer, connie scoffed from his other side. “if she exists, that is.”

jean rolled his eyes. this wasn’t the first time the topic had been brought up. jean has talked about her, of course he has, but connie never believed she existed, not even with the care packages and letters she’s sent.

marco frowned. “hey, jean seems pretty enamored with her. i’d say it looks pretty real.”

“yeah, right! i bet he’s writing all those letters by himself away from us so we won’t be able to see.” connie stood his ground. jean rolled his eyes at his friend, but didn’t say anything.

in truth, he was going to see her. he’d heard thomas wagner was visiting his family, so it must’ve been allowed. she didn’t know he was coming, never never mentioned it in the past few letters because he’d found out just recently. still, how hard could it be to find her? maybe he could start from her house, then if she’s not there, maybe at the flower shop she works at. if she’s not there, maybe—

“jean?”

he stopped in his tracks, as did his comrades. the four turned around, eyes falling on a lone girl stopped in the middle of the road. her clothing was simple, a long brown skirt, a white button up with a sleeves vest on top. a basket was hanging on her arm, part of it filled with vegetables, the other holding a few flowers.

jean couldn’t believe his eyes. you’d grown taller, he noted, though not by much. your hair was longer, but your eyes were just as bright, smile just as big. how has it been two years?

“y/n?”

she wasted no time. y/n rushed over, putting her basket on the ground before she threw her arms around jean’s neck, making him almost stumble due to the added weight of the backpack. he managed to keep his balance, though — he’s been training to be a soldier for a year, it would’ve been embarrassing if he fell over — and wrapped his arms around her as well, burying his face in the side of her head, his nose brushing by her hair.

he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until he felt her touch.

“my walls, you’ve grown so tall!” y/n said as she pulled back just enough to put her hands on each side of his face and look into his eyes. “and strong! can’t believe you didn’t fall over.”

jean’s ears burned at that comment. “y/n!”

“see, connie? told you she’s real! you owe me bread!”

still holding onto each other, y/n and jean looked back, eyes immediately falling on connie. he was staring at the two with his mouth gaped, jaw almost hitting the ground, eyes wide. sasha triumphantly stood next to him, a smile on her face. marco gave a soft smile and a small wave.

“oh? are those your friends, jean-bo?” y/n asked, not realizing jean’s ears had become even redder at the nickname. she pulled away and moved in front of his friends, putting a hand out to sasha. “hey there, i’m y/n! let me guess, you’re sasha? the girl with the appetite?”

sasha gasped dramatically as she looked at jean. “is this all you told her about me?” she scoffed and looked back at y/n, her smile returning. “that’s me! also one of the best soldiers in the corps! and a good cook! there’s more to me than food, jean-bo!” sasha looked over y/n’s shoulder at jean for the last part. “i can tell we’ll be great friends! oh, oh, we can be pen pals!”

connie could barely greet her, still shocked that she was real. marco introduced himself nicely, shaking her hand.

“why’re you here? you need help with anything?” jean had picked up her basket and made his way next to her, a hand on the small of her back.

“oh, my mom sent me out to buy some things. i was going to head home, but i didn’t expect to run into you!” y/n slapped his chest with the back of her hand. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“i found out on a short notice, i would’ve otherwise,” jean told her, then looked at his friends. “i’ll walk y/n home and i’ll catch up to you guys later. can you tell shadis i went to visit family?”

the three agreed, bid y/n goodbye and left without protest. at least, sasha and marco did. connie was still in shock so they had to drag him along.

family, huh? y/n looked at jean — his jawline was so defined now, woah — and quirked an eyebrow. “i don’t need an escort home, you know?”

“i’m not your escort, i’m your company.” jean’s arm dropped from her back, though his hand caught hers in the process, starting to pull her towards her house. “as if you didn’t miss my ass.”

“eh, i mean, life’s been more peaceful the last two years than ever.” jean wasn’t amused at her words. y/n chuckled. “fine, it’s been boring as hell. sometimes i wish i’d joined the army.”

jean chuckled, shaking his head. “no, you don’t. it’s so much work and you’re lazy.”

“hey!”

it wasn’t long before they made it to her house. no one was home when they arrived. at least they can catch up properly without having to interact with others.

“are you hungry? i can make you this new recipe i learned, i—“

“hell yes, i’ll help you. i haven’t had a good meal in two years.”

jean dropped his heavy backpack on the ground near the front door, shedding his cropped jacket and letting it hang on one of the dining chairs. after helping y/n unload the basket, the two cooked a simple meal, though one that jean enjoyed way too much after living off of stale soup for so long.

they went to her room then, laid in her bed. her bed wasn’t very big so they were pretty close to each other, but neither minded. jean took in her features, every change and every part that stayed the same. she looked so pretty in his eyes — how did he get so lucky?

“so, how are you as a cadet?” y/n broke the comfortable silence. her hand was on his temple, her thumb drawing soft shapes. “sasha said she was one of the best around. how about you?”

“i’m ranked above her. sixth,” jean informed, his eyes never leaving hers. how was he supposed to live away from her for the next years? decades?

“sixth?” y/n’s eyes widened. “jean-bo, that’s incredible! you must be really, really good then!”

“‘course i am. i didn’t go there to slack off,” jean said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “but I really missed your dumb ass.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “yeah, i missed you, too, i guess.”

jean’s hand had moved to her face now, too. copying her moves. “two years passed, just one more and we can go to the interior.”

y/n sighed, her hand dropping from his face and moving to hold the one on hers. “jean, we talked about this. i can’t just go to the interior because you’re going. that’s not how it works.”

“i don’t see why it wouldn’t work,” jean disagreed.

“it won’t work because i’m middle class and a normal citizen, not a solider. i can’t just go to the interior.”

the corner of jean’s lips lifted up just a little. “but if you’re the wife of an mp, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there?”

y/n’s eyes widened, her eyebrows shot up. then she slapped his chest and looked away, avoiding his gaze at any cost. “shut up. don’t say things like that. for all you know, you’ll change your decision at the end.”

“i doubt i will.” he ran a hand through her hair. she still wouldn’t look at him. “but even if i did, i would still find a way for you to be okay and safe.”

y/n faced him again, a small smile on her face. “you know, i don’t really deserve you.”

jean scoffed. “look who’s talking, miss sunshine-and-rainbows.”

“why do you have to always ruin the moment?” y/n rolled her eyes at his childishness, but her smile only grew. “i really love you, you know?”

jean nodded, the side of his face rubbing against the pillow. “i love you, too.”

“and i’ll support you no matter what you choose to do,” y/n said, her hand that had been holding his tightening. “just, wherever you choose to go, promise me to stay alive.”

jean nodded. there was no need to think about the promise — there was no danger in the inner ring. “i promise.”

“can you stay the night?” y/n asked after a brief moment of silence.

jean sighed. “i wish i could. i have to be back by noon for roll call. i’m sorry.”

y/n gave him a smile and nuzzled into his chest. “it’s okay. let’s just make the most of these few hours.” jean nodded, pulling her closer and nuzzling his nose in her hair again.

jean didn’t know back then his heart would waver, that he would choose a different path than he’d promised her. despite that, despite the danger he had willingly put himself in, the one promise he was determined to keep was to stay alive and go back to her.

and he kept it.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

ummm okay this was NOT supposed to be this long idk what happened but uh enjoy it’s not proofread and it’s 3:39 a.m. so i’m not doing that loll

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

If you are accepting Shin angst requests, how about him getting a S/O but his friends (Black Dragon Founders) don’t like her so he ends up breaking up with her but comes to regret it?? It might be a bit OOC for Shin but I just want groveling BD founders 🥺

Too Late {Shinichiro Sano}

A/n: I usually don't publicly comment on my requests and keep any comments or thoughts to myself but I will comment on this one. Shinichiro would never and when I say never I mean NEVER break up with his partner because his friends don't like them especially when their opinions are based on nothing or pure bs. He is proud of himself for finally finding someone and he is also proud of that someone.

ON THAT NOTE, I changed it because I don't write non canon stuff and made him break up with her for another reason. There are many ways to write og Black Dragons angst and I won't choose this to do so

Pairing: Shinichiro Sano x reader

Trigger warnings: breakup, implied sexual relationship, jealousy, slight if not entirely toxic relationship

You and Shinichiro becoming a couple was rushed to say the least. You had met during one of his rare nights out with the Akashi and Benkei -Wakasa was on a date- and at first it was all butterflies and rainbows for Shinichiro. He would look at you from his table at the pretty chill bar, make a few comments about how beautiful you were to his friends and overall just admire you.

Now, Shin has been through twenty rejections. His pride has been hurt but he is not one to give up. So, when he caught you gathering your things and getting ready to leave, he excused himself and walked towards you.

"Hey." His introduction was simple, honest. He introduced himself and told you that you were beautiful in the most straightforward way you can think of.

By the end of the night, you were tangled in your sheets, cuddled up after a quite intense session. Both of you were half asleep, partly because of the exhaustion the sex had caused and partly because of the difficult day the two of you had respectively.

When Shinichiro suggested you become his girlfriend, you were over the moon. I mean, despite the unpopular opinion, this guy had the whole package. He was sweet, good in bed, kind, hot, handsome and treated you like a queen... what else did you want?

The first few days were great, you met his family, his friends and he met yours. And it wasn't until you met Wakasa that the whole thing started going downhill.

Shinichiro knew -like most of the women and men- that Wakasa was one hell of a man. Even back to their teenage years, Wakasa had somewhat of a plethora of girlfriends and an insane amount of girls asking for just one date.

Shinichiro never had that and it was eating him alive because he was 24 and he had never had a girlfriend.

When the day came for you to meet the guys he was fine for the most part. Akashi wasn't your type and neither was Benkei, but Wakasa? Wakasa was everyone's type.

Those two hours you spent at his shop felt like an eternity. Suddenly everything bothered Shin. The way he had placed the chairs for you and his friends to sit, the way Wakasa's eyes constantly travelled between you and Shinichiro... he ran out of cigarettes, Mikey had misplaced one of his tool boxes for fun... everything was going horribly wrong.

And then he heard it...

"Would you like me to take you home?"

Wakasa's voice was loud and clear in his ears and that was the moment Shinichiro lost his mind internally.

Your eyes fell upon Shinichiro and you could swear that you could see his knuckles turn white from how hard he was holding the key. But to you? It was only because Mikey had messed up his entire shop.

"I... Shin are you planning on staying late?" You asked him with a smile on your face. Your question was more than justified, it was past the shop's closing time, Shinichiro had finished an order for a motorcycle just a few minutes ago and had already got started on another one.

But he didn't answer.

"Oi, man." Akashi slapped the back of his neck.

"No, let's go."

Maybe it was because of Mikey because despite his messy nature, Shinichiro was pretty organised when it came to his tools, but at that moment? All he could see was red and he had no idea who to blame. Wakasa for being such a flirt even when it came to his best friend's first girlfriend? You for not outright declining the offer no matter the case? Or himself for being so insecure and downright sure that even now that he had you, he wouldn't get his happy ending?

Wakasa exited the shop first and then you did, both of you waiting for the others.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Akashi whispered as Shinichiro was locking the door of his shop, Benkei standing next to him.

"You know he just wants her to be safe. All of us do," Benkei said, already having seen past his best friend's thoughts.

Shinichiro only smiled at them and naturally walked you back home without saying another word. Alone.

"You're not going to say anything?" You asked him, slightly concerned. He was far more calm than he was back at the shop but there was still an odd aura around him.

"Do you find Wakasa handsome?"

"Excuse me?" His question shocked you for a number of reasons. It was so out of the blue and not once during the two hours you spent hanging out with him and his friends did you ever imply that you preferred Wakasa over Shin.

However, Shinichiro had his mind fixed and the trauma from all those rejections was something that he had always brushed off as something not really important. Whatever your response was going to be, he would say the next words.

"I am sorry but I cannot be in a relationship with someone who likes my best friend."

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. And to say you didn't try to bring him to his right mind would be a lie. You asked, almost begged, for an explanation but all he said was that everyone liked Wakasa and kept mumbling to himself.

After an arguement that lasted more than an hour, you just got tired. It was as if you were talking to a wall. Shinichiro wasn't listening to you and from the first moment you understood why he was telling you all this. He hadn't hidden his rejections from you and it was something that the two of you would often joke about but you had never realised it was actually bothering him. Especially when everyone around him joked about them too.

"Fine, let's break up." It pained you to say this. Yes, the whole meeting and confession had been extremely sudden but it was love at first sight for you and all this time, you had believed that the same went for him as well.

So Shinichiro left and it wasn't until one week later when Mikey and Emma kept bugging him to see you that he finally realised what had happened. During this one week, he had kept himself so busy that he would return home and fall asleep on the couch without even removing his shoes. He rejected whatever calls he received from the guys but would constantly check his phone for messages from you; it was almost like a muscle memory.

"I am... slightly concerned that's all." Akashi leaned agaisnt the door of the Sano household.

"I'll talk to him."

Grandpa Sano rarely entered Shinichiro's messy room. "So where's your girlfriend?" He asked casually when Shin opened the door.

"It's ten pm on a Monday. I am guessing at her house?" He sighed and laid back down in bed.

"Why don't you tell her to come over for dinner tomorrow?" Grandpa Sano's questions stung like needles if not knives and even though Shinichiro wasn't aware of it, the old man knew far to well what he was doing.

"Can't."

"Good because you are such an idiot that you didn't deserve her," his grandpa's tone was sharp; it hurt more than it should have. "You are a joke of a man, breaking her heart and being angry at your best friend just because you made an assumption based on nothing." The old man sighed and turned around to leave. "Your mother didn't raise you like this, Shinichiro."

Shinichiro waited for his grandpa to leave before grabbing his helmet and his motorcycle keys and storming to the cemetery.

He told the whole story, sitting down with his hands on his knees as if he was being scolded and he didn't care that he was repeating the events of the first few days; he had found himself visiting the cemetery more often just to tell his mum all about you.

"...but I think it's a little too late, mum. I called her on the way here and she wouldn't pick it up."

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 5 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 12,000+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        Andrew glided through the hospital corridors, taking the elevator to the pediatric branch. He really couldn’t care less about the kid, Hailey, but for some reason his favorite nurse just loved the little nuisance. 

        He felt a bit jealous. Does she like Hailey more than him? 

        Obviously, she does, considering how she had talked about the girl when they first met. He felt pretty annoyed. Did she spend more of her time and attention on the ill girl? Did she get to innocently hug her like that? If Andrew wasn’t so prideful, he’d definitely ask her for a hug.

        Hell, he was really fighting with himself to ask now. Just a small quick hug, nothing bad! He wondered if he could genuinely pull that off. He wondered how she must feel inside his arms. Would she rest her head against his chest, or would she rather prefer resting it on his shoulder? Is she one of those people who cling onto you like their life depends on it, or was she someone who preferred soft and polite hugs? Would she be a long and affectionate hugger, or simple and sweet? 

        He put that thought in the back of his mind for now, rolling down the hallways to Hailey’s room. He didn’t bother to open the door, much like he did with (Y/N)’s room earlier, as he strolled in without a care.

        Hailey laid in her bed, her eyes glued to some book (Y/N) got her, before she glanced at him. Her eyes raised, surprised to see the pale man again.

        “Andrew, was it?” she questioned, her voice sounding better from yesterday. “What are you doing here?”

        “(Y/N) told me to check on you.” He stated bluntly.

        “(Y/N)? Is she here?” Hailey questioned, a smile growing on her face. “I haven’t seen her tonight! I thought she was off work?”

        Andrew was about to open his mouth and say (Y/N) was, before remembering how the nurse didn’t want the girl to know about her condition. 

        “Uh, no…” he muttered, looking away. “She… wanted me to get into books to distract myself… so she told me to go to you for any books.” He lied.

        “So you do have an interest in books after all.” Hailey smiled. “You must have an interest in nurse (Y/N) too, huh?” Hailey smirked teasingly.

        “…What are you getting at?” Andrew questioned, resisting the urge to glare at the sick girl.

        How the hell did this kid know? Andrew questioned to him.

        “It’s very obvious.” She smiled. “See, if I had a past life, I’m sure I was like a cupid!”

        “Uh, yeah. Sure, kid.” He spoke, brushing off the comment as he decided not to entertain nor deny the idea.

        “I’m very serious.” Hailey re-enforced. “I can see it in your eyes! You’re invested in her!”

        Who is this brat… Andrew thought, annoyed but intrigued (much to his dismay).

        “You know, I’ve known her ever since she came here. I know her type of men.” Hailey lied, a mischievous smirk growing on her face.

        “…You do?” Andrew muttered, now he was unashamedly interested. 

        “I could tell you…” she hummed, trailing off. “Or not.”

        Andrew looked hesitant, before letting out a sigh. He rolled his chair up to her bedside, glancing down at her lap where her open book rested.

        The book she got from (Y/N)…

        God, everything just seems to trace back to that woman, huh? No matter what, everything he sees and hears all traces back to her, even outside of the hospital people are attracted to her (even if the reasons could be malicious). It’s almost pathetic how hooked he is on her, despite not even knowing her for a week. It’s almost scary how everyone seems to be attracted to the girl, she just had an aura that everyone was aware of and drawn to. 

        He could look at something stupid like his shoes and remember her footsteps as she walked with him to the surgery room. He could remember her hands on his face, chest, wrist, looking all around and checking his condition, his bandages, his vitals. He could look at his bedsheets and remember her hands tucking him in for bed… and imagine things he’d rather not envision for a woman he just met.

        Yeah, back in the hatch those thoughts go.

        “Could you just tell me?” he huffed, trying to sound as uninterested as possible despite asking for this, rather impatiently at that.

        “Well? Do you like her?” Hailey questioned.

        Andrew took the moment to think to himself. Yeah, she was a pretty nice nurse, and she knew her stuff despite specializing in pediatrics; though he shouldn’t be surprised, children are basically just the same anatomy as adults, just smaller in size.

        She had a nice voice, and she somehow balanced between playful and professional, perhaps that’s practiced for pediatrics to make kids feel comfortable yet still hold authority. 

        She had a cute smile, and her eyes were pretty to look into. He liked looking at her while she worked, sometimes she’d even bite her lip or stick her tongue out to remind herself to concentrate. She looked like an angel laying on that white hospital bed. Even in pain, she still looked pretty. 

        He wondered how she was outside of the hospital. She was a human too, how did she act with her friends, or her family? How did she act alone? Was she single? Did she have a boyfriend, or did she prefer girls? Would she take interest in him? Could she see him as a potential partner?

        Fuck. Yeah, he definitely liked her.

        “Just a little…” he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

        This feels weird (and degrading, in a sense) to be relying on a sick kid for love advice. 

        “So you admit it?” she smiled.

        “Are you gonna tell me or not?” Andrew growled.

        By now, Hailey was no longer fearful or anxious of Andrew. Andrew was just a lovesick puppy hopelessly enamored with her favorite nurse, in her eyes at least. She learned that expression from her books.

        “No.” Hailey smiled, picking up her book.

        “Why?” Andrew questioned, feeling a little betrayed that she made him admit his feelings only to not hold onto their deal.

        “Because I lied.” Hailey smiled. “I don’t know her type.”

        “Brat…” Andrew muttered under his breath, unashamed to be talking smack in front of a dying kid.

        He could’ve said worse, but it’s quite mean to talk ill to a sick child, especially in front of them. Besides, (Y/N) wouldn’t like it if she found out.

        “So, books?” Hailey hummed, getting back to her reading. “This book I’m reading right now is pretty good. I can read it to you.” She suggested.

        “No…” he grumbled, still a little upset that he was tricked. 

        He’ll let her lying slide. Kids will be kids, let them have their fun. 

        “How about I read it to you instead?” Andrew suggested.

        He didn’t want her reading to him; he was the adult, not her. Besides, her voice sounds hoarse and struggling, he’d rather him read it to her than have the kid push herself—not because he’s soft or anything, but because (Y/N) would be upset. 

        Hailey seemed to ponder the idea, before handing over the book to him. 

        “Just don’t crease the pages.” Hailey spoke.

        “Got it.” Andrew hummed, looking at the page she was originally reading.

        He started at the beginning of the page, reading a bit wonky at first, before he started to get into the narration. The words started to flow more smoothly, and he even took pauses for dramatic effect at the intense moments that felt like they needed a pause to sink in.

        One chapter became two, and two became four. He was pretty interested in the story, makes sense considering it was his (Y/N) who got the story, of course she’d have immaculate taste too. 

        He read until his throat went dry, the tip of his tongue aching from all the pronunciations. He looked up from the book to see Hailey asleep.

        Did she get bored? Andrew thought, a little offended that she fell asleep at the book (Y/N) gave her instead of giving it to him, especially when he was kind enough to read it to her. 

        Maybe she just liked his voice? It’s perfect for listening to. His voice wasn’t quiet, but it wasn’t loud either, like a polite demand for attention or to respect his authority. It was deep, but not too deep, with a slight rasp from smoking. He was good at projecting his voice so others could listen to him—well, everyone except Ashley, really. 

        Thinking of Ashley, where is she? She was sure acting weird today. Something about the demon’s vision she saw in her dream. She also described (Y/N)’s appearance despite not even knowing the nurse; he couldn’t recall any moment they had interacted.

        Andrew took a white bookmark that laid on her bedside table, placing it on the page he stopped reading on. He closed the book, placing it down on Hailey’s bedside. He wheeled out of the room, making his way back to the elevators.

        He entered the elevator, pressing the button for the emergency branch, waiting for the doors to re-open. The metal shutters opened and he rolled out, going back to (Y/N)’s room.

        He made it, opening the door and entering without bothering to knock. (Y/N) laid in the hospital bed, her eyes closed as she appeared to be sleeping.

        Damn… Andrew thought, disappointed. I was hoping to talk to her.

        He doesn’t know what he would’ve talked about, but he was hoping she’d start the conversation. He wanted to get closer to her, emotionally and physically. 

        Andrew debated what he should do, before finally giving in, rolling his wheelchair up to her side. He observed her sleeping face, blissfully unaware of his presence as she slept. Her hair was a little messy, perhaps from sleeping or from the attack earlier. Her skin was a bit paler than usual, perhaps from shock or blood loss. She had more prominent bags under her eyes than usual, resting heavily under her closed eyes.

        He wondered who attacked her, and why. Was it a crazy ex boyfriend? Some stalker? A jealous friend? Someone suffering under delusions? He wondered what happened.

        He had an idea, though he was scared to ponder on it.

        Instead of thinking about it, he distracted himself. He looked down at her bandaged arm, trailing his hands down to her wrists, and to her fingernails.

        Her nails were strangely clean. They were polished and trimmed, which makes sense considering nurses need to have good hygiene, especially so they don’t transfer bacteria or accidentally infect patients. They looked like they had been scrubbed squeaky clean recently, not even a trace of dirt under her nails. 

        Her hands looked small compared to his, clean and petite compared to his rough and damaged ones. 

        His hands had small burns from failing to light his cigarettes as a starter; her hands had small burns from ovens and hot cookware and hot glue guns, yet somehow her scars were far more attractive than his.

        His hands were dirty, stained with blood and sins; hers were clean, baptized in purity and commandant.

        He wondered how her hands would feel against his. They looked soft, would they feel soft? He wondered if she used lotion, what her favorite nail polish was, how long she liked her nails.

        Those thoughts led to other thoughts. What did she like wearing when she’s at home? What does she wear in public? What kind of music does she listened to? What kind of foods does she like?

        He decided it was best to stop those thoughts. He stared at her hands, juggling his thoughts in his head, before finally giving in. He reached out and held her hand with his larger one. 

        He held it gently, feeling the weight of it. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand soothingly, memorized at the difference. Her hand was slightly cold, possibly due to how cold the hospital’s AC is followed by blood loss, but it wasn’t uncomfortable to touch. 

        He looked at her face to see if she woken up or felt the touch. She didn’t.

        His fingers carefully interlocked with her, cautious to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She remained neutral, not even a flutter of her eyelashes or any stirring. 

        She must be really tired… Andrew thought. 

        His admired their hands as they eloped together. He noticed discoloration on her hands, He shifted his body, laying his elbow down on the edge of the mattress and using his arm as a pillow. He admired her sleeping face, closing his eyes to relish the touch and intimacy of this moment. He doesn’t know how long it took for him to fall asleep, but it was relatively quick.          .         .        

        A few hours later, Andrew jolted awake first at the sound of the door opening, turning his head at the noise. (Y/N) groaned, opening her eyes and seeing Andrew by her side, holding her hand as a man stood in the doorway, one Andrew didn’t know. 

        Andrew squeezed (Y/N)’s hand softly, a silent greeting before glaring at the man, almost possessive of (Y/N)’s vulnerable state.

        “Hello, Doctor Ryan…” (Y/N) yawned, before directing her attention to Andrew. “And hello to you too, Andrew.” She hummed, smiling as she gently squeezed his hand back.

        She looked down at their hands, wondering when she and Andrew started holding hands, or even when he returned back. Her hands trailed down to her sleeves, more so lack of, as the hospital gown didn’t have any long-sleeves for her. She noticed her scars out in the open and ripped her hand away from Andrew’s, a sense of insecurity and embarrassment rapidly building in her as she hid her arms under her blanket.

        Andrew looked confused (even a little disheartened that she let go) as Doctor Ryan walked over to her. Doctor Ryan isn’t usually at the hospital on Saturday nights, but he could’ve decided to work overtime this week. It’s not unusual since he has a stay-at-home wife and three kids.

        “Hello! I heard what happened and I figured I’d wait to see you when you’re awake.” The doctor smiled brightly, walking over to her bedside and sitting next to Andrew. “And who is this?” he questioned, looking at Andrew, yet having a good idea of who it was as he sent a knowing smirk. 

        While Doctor Ryan had never met Andrew face-to-face, he had read his report when assigning (Y/N) to watch him his first night, along with hearing all the gossip from Penelope. 

        Andrew had a small reputation around the hospital since he’s one of the trouble patients, on suicide watch and needing special treatment for his wounds and wants. Andrew wouldn’t accept any care from any other nurse during the night shift, it was a fight for the day shift to care for him until (Y/N) told him to behave for day shift. His sister was also banned from the hospital due to proving a threat to Andrew’s recovery and health, though she won’t be a problem anymore. 

        Rumors spread pretty easily of Andrew’s fondness and almost admiration of the nurse he chose, (Y/N). Penelope has a big mouth without meaning to, having a bad habit of rambling and over sharing her and other people’s problems and secrets, so it spread pretty quick of the strange relationship the nurse and patient shared. Penelope’s ramblings of doubt as a nurse because Andrew wouldn’t accept her care had reached Doctor Ryan’s ears, being the catalyst of his teasing to his student, (Y/N). 

        “This is Andrew.” (Y/N) introduced when she realized Andrew wasn’t going to answer the doctor’s question, only give him a nasty glare.

        She cleared her throat, shoving her arms into her blanket so the pair of males didn’t see, and flashed a smile. “What’s your visit for? Don’t tell me you’re gonna make me work.” She chuckled lightly, trying to make a joke. 

        “I wouldn’t say 'work' exactly.” Doctor Ryan smiled, before it faltered, letting out a sigh. “You’re here today, so I figured it’d be a good time to tell you. I think it’s best if you see Hailey.” 

        “Hailey? Why? Did something bad happen to her?” (Y/N) questioned, doing her best to not sound alarmed or panicked.

        It’s never a good thing for a nurse to panic, it’d defeat a key factor of their job. Nurses are supposed to provide aid to their patients, whether it’s emotionally or physically, or even emotional in cases like Andrew’s. A nurse panicking would panic their patient since they’re going to look to the one with most experience. If a patient panics, they can worsen their condition or provide unnecessary stress that can affect their recovery or even create new problems. 

        And people think being a nurse is just all fluffing pillows and handing out medication. You have to be constantly in tune with the patients emotions, symptoms, and healing process; from what they're feeling to how much they're eating or using the bathroom. Always checking up on how they are and cater them to the best of your ability; serving them food (and sometimes helping feed them), changing their bedsheets, helping them to the bathroom, helping out with physical therapy, prepping them for procedures or appointments, and charting. The worse is charting. You have to document every single thing; from what they ate and what times, to who visited them today, to how what they said to be feeling and what they looked actually looked to be feeling like, to any improvement or decline or neutrality of their status, to their behavior, to what medicines they had, to their complaints or compliments they have about the hospital or their treatment, and so much more. 

        “She’s just not in the greatest condition at the moment. I think it’s best she sees you.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

        Before she could question it, Doctor Ryan grabbed something from his coat, placing it down on her bedside table. 

        “Here,” he spoke, patting what looked to be a Polaroid recorder down on her table, “I came to drop this off too. This was supposed to be a wholesome visit, until Hailey at least…” he spoke, allowing his smile to drop. “Check out the contents on the camera later. I have to get back to work. Get well soon!”

        “Thanks.” (Y/N) smiled, watching Doctor Ryan leave the room.

        “Who was that?” Andrew questioned, glancing over at her as he resisted the urge to grimace.

        “That’s Doctor Ryan, he’s my professor! He’s the one teaching me pediatrics since I’m an apprentice.” (Y/N) explained, slowly sitting up from the bed.

        Andrew watched her movements carefully, observing how she slowly took her time getting out of bed. She didn’t apply much pressure on her injured leg as her sock-clothed feet hit the ground (with clean hospital socks, none of her blood soaked up in it and used to plug in any stab wounds). The room looked like a carousel, spinning rapidly, and a headache followed with it, screaming loudly in her head. She let out a groan as Andrew quickly placed a hand on her waist.

        "Careful..." Andrew muttered, watching her intently as he kept his hand on her waist.

        "Thank you, but I'm fine." (Y/N) lied, placing her hand on his shoulder to use as leverage. 

        "Yeah, sure." He hummed sarcastically.

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to glare at him. While she wasn't on duty, she was still his nurse and she didn't feel like having any workplace drama. 

        "Do you want me to assist you there?" Andrew questioned, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on her hip.

        "No, it's fine." She spoke, taking a few steps to the door and ignoring the stabbing sensation in her leg. 

        "Are you sure?" Andrew questioned, trying his best to not look too concerned for her. 

        "Yes, I'm sure." She huffed, trying not to be snippy. "It's for the best. I don't want Hailey to be nervous or worried, especially if there's something going on with her." 

        "Just be careful..." Andrew spoke, watching her limp away. "I'll be here waiting for you." 

        (Y/N) took the moment to look back at him, confused. Before she could question it, she stopped herself, deciding there was always later to talk about it. Right now Hailey needs her, Andrew can wait.  

        (Y/N) settled for a nod, rummaging in the hospital cabinets and grabbing a white blanket. She wrapped it around her body to hide her hospital gown; she wouldn’t want to worry Hailey. (Y/N) limped out of the room, going down the halls to the elevator. 

        She pressed the floor the pediatric branch was on, waiting rather impatiently for the doors to open again as she descended.

        Was Hailey okay? What did he mean by she’s not in the greatest condition? Has she gained more symptoms, or weakened?

        Hailey has acute lymphoblastic leukemia, also known as ALL. It’s a cancer inside the blood and bone marrow, where the infected white blood cells are rapidly multiplying, creating blocks in the blood and bones that could prevent other cells from getting through and working. The cancer comes with symptoms such as fever, frequent nose bleeds, weakness or fatigue, easy bruising, pain in the bones or stomach or groin, frequent infections, and swollen lymph nodes. 

        Hailey’s most prominent symptoms are her swollen lymph nodes, hence why her voice is low and raspy, along with her bone pains in her legs, which is why she’s bedridden. At least 90% of kids under 15 who have ALL survive, so long as they’re treated. Even thought Hailey has been in the hospital for three years, she’s made very little progress in recovering. 

        Despite there being no stages in ALL cancer, if (Y/N) had to guess, she’s assume Hailey would be in stage 3. Over the years of chemotherapy and medications, her infected white blood cells just seem to be multiplying more and more, hence why it’s called acute lymphoblastic leukemia, acute means rapid. 

        (Y/N)’s theory is that a doctor didn’t give a strong enough dosage to Hailey, therefore the cells grew a resistance to the medication, creating a superbug that could withstand the medicine entirely. 

        Even then, what matters is if Hailey is feeling alright. (Y/N) exited the elevator and limped down the hallways, making it to Hailey’s room and opening the door.

        “Oh. Hello, Ms. (L/N)!” Hailey greeted brightly, her voice still hoarse and raspy, but having life to it. “What are you doing here? You said it was your day off!”

        Hailey’s upper body shot up quickly as she sat up from bed, a smile on her face as she greeted (Y/N). Her eyes were bright and lively, even waving her arm at the nurse.

        Oh.

        “Sorry it’s so early!” (Y/N) smiled. “It’s at least 5 A.M. What are you doing up so early?” 

        “I couldn’t sleep, I just had such a sudden burst of energy!” Hailey spoke. “I think I’m getting better!”

        (Y/N) ignored that comment, sitting down on the guest chair in Hailey’s room. Her eyes trailed to the wheelchair that sat near her IV pole, a wheelchair that’s only used for Hailey to wheel herself to the bathroom now, but even then she needs help from the nurses. 

        “So? How’s that book you’re reading?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “I’m almost done with it. At least 30 pages away.” Hailey answered. “What are you doing here at the hospital? It’s your night off; unless you’re working overtime again?”

        “Yes! I’m working overtime again.” (Y/N) lied, smiling at the girl. 

        It’s best not to tell her anything, not in her condition.

        “Are you cold? Why are you wearing a blanket?” Hailey questioned.

        “Yes, I’m cold. I’m feeling a bit chilly at the moment. It’s verging to winter and the hospital still hasn’t adjusted the thermostat yet.” (Y/N) lied once more. “Hey, remember when I said I’ll take you to the garden the next time I see you? Would you like to go right now?”

        Hailey’s eyes brightened even more, her grin widening as she nodded. “Yes! I want to see the flowers!” 

        “Let’s get you in the wheelchair, yeah?” (Y/N) spoke, standing up from the chair and using the blanket to hide herself limping from Hailey’s sight.

        Hailey used her upper arms and was able to push herself to the edge of the bed on her own, even moving her knees a bit too! (Y/N) still carefully placed one of her arms under Hailey’s knees and the other on her back, picking up Hailey and placing her in the wheelchair. 

        (Y/N) decided against the wheelchair restraints, not wanting Hailey to feel trapped at the moment. (Y/N) grabbed the blanket off Hailey’s bed, but Hailey spoke up.

        “We can leave the blanket. I actually feel pretty warm at the moment.” Hailey spoke.

        The only warmth Hailey usually had was when she had a fire spreading in her legs, the bone pains acting up and causing many sleepless nights for her. It’s why Hailey is almost always awake when (Y/N) does her rounds around the hospital at night.

        “It’s cold outside. Let’s take the blanket just in case.” (Y/N) persisted, smiling as she covered Hailey’s shoulders and down with the thin white cloth. 

        Hailey decided not to argue against it and cooperated. (Y/N) wheeled Hailey out of the room, her pace a little slower than usually as she felt that stabbing sensation in her leg and stomach. It made her silently hitch her breath, her ears having a slight ring in them, yet she persisted. 

        “Gosh, I haven’t seen these halls in forever.” Hailey spoke, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the white hallways. “You know, I read that whenever you enter a unfamiliar area, the reason why you feel dizzy is because you have a sensory overload. Like, you’re saving mental images and color palettes and the layout of the area all in your head, that way you remember where you are the next time you go! Even though I’ve been here before, it feels like it’s my first time down these halls all over again.” 

        Yes, (Y/N) knows that. She was the one who gave Hailey the book she learned that from, but for Hailey’s sake (and to distract her mind from the pain), she decided to play dumb.

        “Wow, really?” (Y/N) hummed, smiling. “I never knew that. It makes sense now that you’ve explained it.”

        Hailey nodded, smiling. “Yeah! I remember having that dizziness when I was at my friend’s for a sleepover.” She spoke, before her smile dropped. “Though, it was before I had cancer, or at least when I wasn’t placed in the hospital… I sometimes miss having friends.”

        “Why, of course you have friends.” (Y/N) spoke. “You have me! And you have Doctor Ryan, and Penelope, and Ruby, and even Andrew too.” 

        “Yeah, but I mean friends my age.” Hailey spoke.

        Normally, that could be arranged in the hospital so long as the patients aren’t being exposed to a infectious disease or illness, especially in Hailey’s case since she’s more prone to getting infections; however, Hailey didn’t want to be friends with the other kids after her hair started falling out due to the chemotherapy. She was insecure of her appearance deteriorating, even if Penelope kept lying to her face and telling her she looked perfectly fine. Hailey preferred (Y/N) over Penelope for that reason. (Y/N) always told her the truth, or at least left it blank so there was no harsh comment. 

        If Penelope asked (Y/N) if she looked sickly today, (Y/N) would tell her that a bit of water and food would help bring back some color to her face. It was a good way to not only promote healthy behavior for Hailey, but also it helped build trust in (Y/N) to always telling her the truth about her health. If she asked Penelope, Penelope would’ve lied and said she looked as bright as the sun; which is kind, but she could tell Penelope was lying by how Penelope’s right eye would twitch and bite her bottom lip. 

        “I see… well, I’m sure we can arrange that soon, when you’re ready.” (Y/N) smiled, taking Hailey into the elevator.

        (Y/N) pressed the lobby floor as Hailey spoke up.

        “Are the flowers even in bloom? Since it’s verging to winter?” Hailey questioned.

        “A secret between me and you; the flowers are fake.” (Y/N) whispered, acting as if there was a camera watching her or something. We have scented pads hidden in the soil to make it smell like flowers, and we wet the soil regularly to keep that earthy smell lingering.” 

        “Really?” Hailey gasped.

        “That’s why they’re always in bloom. It’s depressing to have an empty garden, even something as small as colorful flowers give people hope.” (Y/N) explained. 

        While fake flowers aren’t present in most hospitals, this hospital was different. Even if they were always understaffed and overworked, they at least cared for their patients. Even if the staff excel at their work or not, at least they have work ethic. 

        The elevator doors opened as (Y/N) wheeled Hailey down the hallways. (Y/N) noticed the stares from guests and even some patients; whether it was because of Hailey’s bald head or (Y/N)’s limp. (Y/N) noticed Hailey’s gripping the blanket on her, seconds away from raising the blanket above her head to hide it. (Y/N) recognized Hailey’s insecurity and spoke up.

        “You know, I’m thinking of starting a garden. A real garden with real flowers indoors, that way patients with allergies or conditions can see the flowers too without going outside.” (Y/N) spoke, redirecting Hailey’s attention. “I was wondering what flowers you’d like for me to add. I’ll do a survey with the other patients too, have a nice diversity of flowers. What do you think?” 

        “I think… it’s a nice idea.” Hailey smiled, letting go of the blanket. “I think daisies. You should do daisies.” 

        “That’s a nice flower. I’ll see what I can do.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling as she pushed open the glass door, rolling Hailey to the garden. 

        (Y/N) guided Hailey to the wooden bench, picking up Hailey and placing her down on the seat so she wouldn’t be confided to the wheelchair. 

        Hailey rambled on and on about anything and everything. She talked so much that (Y/N) contemplated if she should go fetch water for Hailey’s throat given how raspy it was, but she decided against it as she noticed the signs.

        Hailey’s bright smile, the almost whimsical joy in her eyes; an expression that (Y/N) thought Hailey has lost over the years as she spent her birthdays in this hospital. 

        (Y/N) remembers bringing a cake for Hailey’s 7th birthday, the first they spent together. Even though Hailey admitted to not liking vanilla cake, she still ate it. It was the last birthday she’d spend with her parents before they threw themselves at work, leaving Hailey along in the hospital with other sick patients and the staff. 

        The second birthday they spent together, (Y/N) had to ditch the candles, concerned the smoke would affect Hailey’s lungs. At least the cake was homemade, even if the frosting looked a bit ugly. (Y/N) made sure it was chocolate this time, so Hailey could enjoy it. 

        And the third birthday they spent together, (Y/N) made an ice cream cake, chocolate of course. She figured the ice cream would soothe Hailey’s throat and Hailey could still enjoy the flavor. It took many tries, but she succeeded in making the perfect cake, gifting Hailey books for her to read too. 

        If (Y/N) had known it would be Hailey’s last birthday, she would’ve made sure to go all out. Buy balloons and party streamers, force her parents to come back and see her, cover her head to toe in presents. 

        Unfortunately, you can’t change time. 

        Hailey’s eyes shined as she spoke, talking about anything possible. She didn’t have many who would listen to her, her doctors and nurses were there for work, and (Y/N) couldn’t visit long since she had other patients to tend to. But now, (Y/N)’s off the clock. At the moment she’s not Hailey’s nurse, she’s Hailey’s friend.

        Eventually, Hailey’s voice faltered, before she let out a hum, satisfied as she rested her head on the bench. She took a deep breath, then sighed, smiling softly.

        “It really does smell like flowers. Those are some good quality scent pads.” Hailey spoke.

        Fake flowers last for years; patients do not.

        “Do you ever wonder what’s beyond us?” Hailey questioned after a long silence.

        “What do you mean?” (Y/N) questioned, turning her head to face the girl.

        “Death. Like, do you ever wonder what happens after?” Hailey added.

        (Y/N) hummed, thinking as she kept her blanket wrapped around her, hiding her hospital gown just as Hailey hid from the cold. 

        She wasn’t sure. Many religions had their own ideals of life and death, but she doubted Hailey wanted an answer based on religion. She wasn’t sure what was beyond. After trying to kill herself, everything in her life started losing value, a spiral of nothing and everything thrown at her all at once. 

        Even if she stopped hurting herself physically, she couldn’t stop mentally.

“I think it changes for everyone.” (Y/N) spoke. “Like, your own paradise. You could be surrounded by anyone you want, and anything you want.”

        “What would you want to be surrounded by?” Hailey questioned.

        She didn’t have to think much on that matter. There wasn’t much in her life she cared about anymore. She did nothing but work nowadays. She was an empty husk that worked itself to death to pass the time, awaiting Death by the door. 

        If she couldn’t open the door, she’ll make Death open it. 

        “Beds.” (Y/N) answered.

        “Really? That’s it?” Hailey questioned, surprised and perhaps kindly disappointed. “I was expecting something… more. Like, deep, or wise.” 

        “You can’t expect everything to make sense in life, you know.” (Y/N) chuckled. “Sometimes things just happen. I think that’s what’s so fun about life, it’s just a mystery to be solved at the end of the line through all that hard work; or, perhaps there’s no mystery. Maybe it just coexists just like we do.” 

        “How can your answer be so boring but your follow-up be so wise?” Hailey pouted, cause (Y/N) to chuckle.

        “Hey, I never said I’d give you any special answer.” (Y/N) pointed out.

        “But, really, why beds?” Hailey questioned.

        “I just like sleeping.” (Y/N) smiled, giving part of the truth.

        “I guess it’ll suffice.” Hailey sighed, disappointed.

        “And you? What would you like to be surrounded by?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “My parents.” Hailey spoke. “And my old friends. And tons of my hair, like as much hair as Rapunzel.” 

        “That sounds nice.” (Y/N) hummed. “Though, you’d have to brush your hair all the time. Maybe it’s not so good having hair, I can’t stand mine at times.” (Y/N) spoke, trying to gently reassure Hailey.

        “Well, maybe just normal hair then. What it used to look like before.” Hailey spoke. “You’d be there too. I wouldn’t only see you when you’re working. I’d see you outside of the hospital as my friend.” 

        “What’s it matter where or how you meet? As long as we’re still friends, I don’t see any issue.” (Y/N) smiled.

        Hailey smiled, nodding. “I like that.” 

        Eventually, Hailey went quiet, no longer having any words to speak. She sat on the bench, observing her surroundings in a youthful fashion. Her eyes sparkled with life, her pulse relaxing as she enjoyed the false nature around her.

        “Thank you for staying with me.” Hailey spoke up, her volume decreasing, the sound of her raspy voice cracking more. “I know it’s probably hard for you to see me like this.”

        “Anything for you, Hails.” (Y/N) smiled, wrapping her arm around Hailey’s shoulder and giving her a gentle side-hug.

        “Thank you for not leaving me alone. It means a lot to me…” Hailey muttered, taking a few deep breaths, before eventually subduing. 

        (Y/N) glanced at the IV pole, looking at the fluids that gently flowed in Hailey’s veins, before she turned her attention back to Hailey. 

        After a few minutes, there was no movement from Hailey. No breathing. No eye movement. No leg twitching. Just nothing.

        (Y/N) took a deep breath, smelling the fake flowers and wet soil, before letting out a sob she’s been holding. 

        Hailey had so much life, and yet she died so young. She was so lively in her final moments.

        All that matters now is she’s not going to be in anymore pain and that she wasn’t scared. (Y/N) thought.

        Even if kids under 15 have a 90% chance of surviving acute lymphoblastic leukemia, it doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed. Life and death is really never a guarantee though, so it’s good to enjoy it while it lasts.

        If only (Y/N) could follow her own advice.

        (Y/N) covered her face in her hands, crying now that Hailey was gone, so she wouldn’t see her tears. This hurt way worse than any stab she could endure. 

        (Y/N) almost contemplated covering Hailey’s face with the her blanket, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to be ashamed of Hailey or her presence, she didn’t want to forget Hailey or brush her aside.

        (Y/N) stood up, deciding not to waste much time, and picked Hailey up, putting her in the wheelchair. She had such lifeless and glazed eyes, her mouth was slightly open and her arms flayed motionless as (Y/N) moved. She doesn’t look like the suddenly bright and cheerful Hailey from just a few minutes ago.

        Terminal Lucidity. It’s an unknown phenomenon that can happen before death, giving you suddenly more strength, a clearer consciousness, and even regaining memory. It’s surprisingly common, at least 88% experiencing the symptoms before death. It can happen from minutes to hours to days before death, and it has a habit of giving false hope to the patients loved ones. While it’s quite common in dementia patients, it can also happen to those with neurological problems or in some special cases those with cancer.

        In the hospital, a terminal patient suddenly acting lively and alert is usually a bad thing because it means they’re near death. It’s not quite known why, but some speculate it could be the brain’s last fight, before eventually giving in. 

        (Y/N) wheeled Hailey’s dead body to the hospital’s mortuary. She checked the body in, guessing the nearest time of death since she didn’t have a watch on her, and the cause of death. She wrote down the parental numbers so they could be contacted, before lumping her way back to the elevator.

        The ride up was deathly silent, not that anyone was in the elevator to talk to her, but it was silent in her mind too. Usually she’d at least be thinking of things to do, but she had no thoughts in her mind.

        The elevator doors opened and (Y/N) walked out. She walked back to her own hospital room, exhausted and tired. Tears threatened to escape her eyes once more, the pain of losing Hailey and the pain of her wounds piling up on her. 

        She opened the door, surprised to see Andrew there, sleeping in his wheelchair with his arms crossed. (Y/N) wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or happy. Annoyed because she wanted to cry and sleep, but also happy because it meant she wasn’t alone with her thoughts and feelings. 

        The door opened, jolting Andrew awake. He was probably in a light sleep, whether because he was expecting (Y/N) or because the wheelchair is uncomfortable to sleep in. Whatever the reason was, he was awake.

        His eyes trailed to (Y/N), doing his best not to smile and brighten up at her presence (that would be so lame if he did that).

        “Hey.” Andrew spoke.

        “Hey.” (Y/N) parroted, throwing her blanket at Andrew for him to use instead as she got up in her hospital bed.

        There was no point in hiding her hospital gown now that Hailey was dead, so that blanket could now be used by Andrew while she got under her own hospital bedsheets. 

        “You can go to your room, you know. I’m fine on my own.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “So? You got stabbed.” Andrew gruffed, catching the blanket and placing it down on his lap.

        “And you have two broken legs, mister. You should still be recovering after surgery.” (Y/N) scolded lightly.

        Her response caused Andrew to chuckle. Even injured and off the clock, she still worried about others. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because she was his nurse or if she was just trying to be a decent human, but he relished the attention anyways. 

        “Ah, c’mon. I feel fine.” He chuckled. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to kick his leg to prove him wrong, yet she decided not to be petty today. She hummed, lying down on her bed. 

        “Is there something you want from me? Why are you here?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at the clock.

        It was 6:30 A.M. She’ll be here in the hospital until 3 P.M. She wasn’t fond of that. She needed to bury Ashley’s body and deep clean her apartment. Even though the police hopefully had no trace it was her, and hopefully they didn’t invade in her apartment and swab the place (which, they better of not considering it’d be illegal without her permission or a warrant). 

        Not really. Andrew thought.

        He just came over as soon as he heard (Y/N) was put in the emergency unit thanks to Penelope’s big mouth. He doesn’t really know why he came here, maybe just out of curiosity to see how bad she was hurt. All humans are curious when something bad happens.

        Maybe he just wanted to spend more time with her, to be happy she was here with him. It’s not like she could fight much with him, she was tired and her eyes were red.

        Red eyes. Was she crying?

        “I just figured I see you, since you’re here. It gives me something to do other than being stuck in that hospital bed.” Andrew spoke.

        “And now you’re stuck in a hospital wheelchair.” (Y/N) chuckled.

        “Forget about me. Are you okay?” Andrew questioned.

        “Yeah. I told you. It doesn’t hurt much.” (Y/N) lied, ignoring the pulses inside her wounds.

        “I wasn’t talking about that. I mean, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.” Andrew pointed out, leaning back in his chair as he looked at her.

        (Y/N) paused, thinking. Would it be against hospital protocol to say a patient’s status or info to someone if they’re dead? 

        Well, you only live once. And Andrew doesn’t look like a snitch. 

        “Hailey died.” (Y/N) spoke. “And, her parents weren’t there to say goodbye. Really, never visited her much either.” 

        “That sucks…” Andrew muttered.

        He’s not too sure if he could care or not. Yeah, it sucks a kid died, but why should he care about a kid he had no connection with? She died, might as well get over it.

        “It happens more than I like around here. They pass without their family around.” (Y/N) spoke. “But, I just can’t stand when the parents aren’t there for their kids. They die scared, that’s no way to die, for a kid or adult.” 

        (Y/N) spoke, looking out her window as the sun started rising. 

        She wondered where Andrew’s parents were. Why aren’t they here to visit him? Do they not know he’s here? Or perhaps they don’t want to visit their child who’s a murderer…

        “What shitty parents.” Andrew spoke with no filter.

        “Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled, “that’s what I think too.” 

        To really care about someone you don’t have any blood-relation to, must be a special kind of bond; it’s one you can choose, not one you’re born with, unlike the one Andrew and Ashley shares.

        “So, where’s your parents?” Andrew questioned.

        “I’m an adult, I don’t need them checking up on me.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Yeah, but, wouldn’t it be nice? A sense of security and all?” Andrew questioned.

        “Well, where’s your parents?” (Y/N) retorted, a bit annoyed.

        So what? It’s not like if she called them they’d come rushing to her. Her mother would care less seeing (Y/N) in a hospital again, and her father would probably go berserk and try to bring her back home where it was safe. 

        “Touché.” Andrew chuckled. “But I have my sister to visit me.” 

        (Y/N) mentally grimaced at that, doing her best to not make a face so Andrew wouldn’t question it. 

        Not anymore… she thought.

        Her hands suddenly felt dirty again. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she hid them in the hospital blanket. Once again, Andrew was intrigued with her hands after seeing her hide them. It’s like everything she hides them, he immediately gets curious and wants to see them. 

        He knows of the obvious self-harm scars now, he saw those when she was sleeping. And he saw the small scars and burns from everyday life, but why care so much about them? 

        Maybe it’s just something you have to go through in order to understand. You can’t understand everything on the first try, especially if you have no experience in it.

        Sure, he was admitted for jumping a rooftop, but that’s a bit different than self-harming. Jumping a rooftop is one clear goal; suicide. It has subcategories such as wanting to escape life, or having too many problems to run away from. 

        Self-harming, on the other hand, is more complex. The desire to harm yourself is there, but you don’t want to die immediately. It’s a slow steady process building up. You hurt yourself possibly because you feel ashamed, that you feel like you deserve to hurt because that’s all you’re worth. Or perhaps it’s to relieve stress or pain. There’s not always such a strong intent to die when you hurt yourself? sometimes pain is the only thing people know that they use to feel normal or detached. Perhaps they even get pressured into hurting themselves. Self-harming isn’t to die, it’s to make yourself suffer because you feel that that’s what you need. 

        The question is: what is her reasoning? 

        The question left him wondering, he was almost compelled to answer, but she didn’t look to be in a good mood, so he decided against it.

        (Y/N)’s eyes trailed to the digital recorder on her bedside. Doctor Ryan had left it on her bedside earlier, but he didn’t explain what was on it. She reached over and grabbed it, studying it.

        It was a shiny silver recorder, with a slot for polaroid photos to slip out of. (Y/N) turned on the camera, pressing a button to the camera roll. The camera roll opened, multiple short videos at least 10 or 20 seconds showing. 

        She clicked on one and turned it on, seeing a video of one of her patients. They had black hair and black eyes, sitting in their hospital bed with an IV needle in her arm and bandages around her head. She recently had surgery for a tumor in her brain, now resting in bed.

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)! I heard you were doing unwell and I wanted to say please get better and visit me when you’re healthy!” the patient smiled.

        (Y/N) chuckled, a smile plastered on her face as she looked at the footage. Andrew wheeled his way over to her side, curious to what she was smiling at. He rested his arm on the bedside, leaning over and looking at the footage. 

        (Y/N) moved the camera in the center of them so they both could see. She clicked the next video, pressing play.

        A boy with brown hair looked at the camera, confused. “What do I say?”

        “Say get better.” Doctor Ryan whispered from behind the camera.

        “Get better.” The boy spoke.

        “Now add more to it, say nice things.” Doctor Ryan whispered, resisting the urge to chuckle. 

        “Nice things.” The kid spoke. 

        “No. What do you like about Nurse (L/N).” Doctor Ryan spoke, now using his normal volume instead of whispering.

        “I like that she’s nice.” The kid smiled.

        “Now say it to the camera.” Doctor Ryan pushed.

        “I like that you’re nice, camera.” The boy smiled, one of his front teeth were missing, only adding to the cuteness.

        “Ah, close enough.” Doctor Ryan chuckled, ending the video.

        (Y/N) giggled at the video while Andrew remained unfazed. She clicked the next video, pressing play. There was a girl inside Doctor Ryan’s office, there for an appointment. She was a frequent regular for common colds, so (Y/N) recognized her instantly. 

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)! Please get better soon, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting is too messy! I like yours better!” she smiled.

        “Hey! It’s not messy, you just can’t read the prescriptions because it’s long words!” Doctor Ryan laughed.

        “Still bad.” The kid smiled. 

        “Oh whatever.” Doctor Ryan chuckled from behind the camera, ending the video.

        The kid was right, Doctor Ryan’s handwriting was bad. The kid would try to read the prescriptions on the paper but couldn’t read the big messy words, so (Y/N) would just simply write “cold medicine” so the girl could read it. 

        (Y/N) smiled, going through more and more videos as she chuckled and grinned at the kids, their thoughts and feelings, and seeing their current statuses. 

        She eventually got to the last video, the caption above saying it was recorded just eight hours ago, when (Y/N) was still sleeping in the hospital after surgery. 

        “Hi, Ms. (L/N)!” the patient with blonde hair smiled, revealing to be Hailey, lively and well.

        “I heard you’re unwell and I hope you get better really soon! I can’t wait to see you again and to read the books you lend me. Please get well soon, I miss you already!” Hailey smiled.

        “Wow, she looked to be getting better.” Andrew commented, pointing at the screen. “I wonder what happened…”

        Even though Hailey was lively and well, anybody with medical knowledge would know that she was doing bad.

        “Terminal lucidity.” (Y/N) answered. “Sometimes before you die, your brain acts out on a last defense. You gain more energy and strength; but it’s fruitless.” She explained.

        “Oh… that blows…” Andrew muttered.

        No wonder she seemed much more vocal and confident today than she did yesterday. He wondered if he died, would he act like that too before kicking the bucket? That must hurt for the loved ones who don’t understand. 

        “It does…” (Y/N) sighed, her mind going blank as she stared out in the distance.  

        When things become too much, it’s better not to think and just go on auto-pilot. It’s how (Y/N) went through her life when things became too much.

        It’s unhealthy, she knows that, but it helps her cope with reality. 

        She turned off the camera screen, burning a hole into her lap as she looked at the black screen. She spaced out, going motionless.

        Andrew noticed, unsure whether to speak up or not. She was obviously feeling distraught and he wasn’t sure if she should be wallowing in her feelings or not.

        Auto-pilot took over and decided it wanted her to cry. Tears started pouring down her face before she knew it, only causing Andrew to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He sighed, grabbing her hand and holding it. 

        “Hey… it’s okay.” Andrew spoke awkwardly. 

        “No, it’s not.” She spoke, her voice cracking. “All these kids, they shouldn’t have to go through this so young. They shouldn't be in pain or dying.” 

        It’s admirable, her care for others. It must take a good heart to do that, always worrying about others instead of herself. Andrew wondered if he was like that before all this happened. Was he a good person before he jumped and lost most of his memory? 

        No, probably not. This is reality, not a dream. He doubts that he was a good person, judging by the way he acted with Ashley the past three months he could remember. His parents ignored his calls, his girlfriend broke up with him on the phone, and he killed multiple people and even ate his neighbor!

        Yeah, definitely not a good person.

        “There, there…” Andrew muttered awkwardly, squeezing her hand hesitantly. “Sometimes things just happen?”

        “But they shouldn’t happen to kids. They’ve been brought in this world just to get taken out when life has barely even started for them. These poor kids.” She cried, squeezing Andrew’s hand tightly for comfort. “They shouldn’t be wanted to die so early on. They should be enjoying life, not wondering when it’ll end.” 

        Normally, she’d just hide her feelings or bottle it up until she got home, but she can’t even go home and cry because she has a body to bury and a apartment to clean. 

        Life just keeps piling up on her more and more. It feels like a never ending cycle of pain. The only time she even feels happy now in reality, without sleeping, is seeing kids happy and smiling. How can she be happy if they keep dying? How can she be happy if these kids keep getting their happiness robbed?

        Andrew contemplated what he should do. Should he let her vent? Should he try and comfort her more? Should he offer her to shut up and shove advice down her throat? 

        He decided it was probably best to just comfort her, he’d rather not see her cry. She can be emotional outside of his vision. As much as he likes this nurse, he hates sensitive people; maybe he just doesn’t like seeing someone he favors crying. 

        Andrew sighed, reaching over and placing both his hands on her face, wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. 

        “Hey, don’t cry.” He spoke. “It doesn’t look good on you, you know?”         

        (Y/N) sniffled as she tried to speak. The muscles in her throat felt restricting, preventing her from putting them to use, so she only just shook her head.

        “That video showed Hailey saying that she wanted you to get better, right?” Andrew pointed out, wiping the tears into her skin. 

        (Y/N) nodded, unsure of where he was trying to go with this.

        “So, she knew you weren’t feeling good, even when she wasn't doing good herself She cares about your health. Do you think crying would make her happy?” Andrew questioned. “I think it would just worry her about you. You wouldn’t want her to worry about you, would you?” 

        (Y/N) shook her head, her shoulders shaking from her sobs. 

        "You were there for her when no one else was? Isn't that all that matters in a kid's final moments?" Andrew questioned.

        Andrew's right, at least they didn't die alone. Dying alone must be one of the worst ways to die, alone to succumb to your own thoughts and regrets of what could've happen and what did. It must be worse slowly deteriorating over time, at least dying quick you wouldn't be alone with your thoughts, but dying alone just leaves your thoughts, which slowly fade over time the more and more you stop living and just start existing, before even you lose that too. 

        Yeah, being alone sucks, (Y/N) can vouch for that. Coming home to an empty house with nobody to greet you, eating meals alone, waking up alone and going to sleep alone, shopping alone. It's kind of like dying alone in one way. You're just waiting for that time to come when eventually you stop doing those other things, so you just go on autopilot and wait. Of course, she could easily change all that by dating someone or getting a pet for at home, but it's just so exhausting trying to find a good person to spend the rest of your life with. 

        There's a reason so many people are single in the dating pool. Besides, she doubts anyone would want to date her with her work schedule; she sleeps in the day and either works at night or stays up at night on her days off. Let's not forget how she's constantly tired and depressed, dating someone like her would be such a buzzkill, you'd have to be desperate; at least that's what her mother said to her last time they met up for dinner. 

        (Y/N)’s tears stopped, realizing Andrew was right. Hailey wouldn’t want her crying, and if (Y/N) died, she wouldn’t want to be sad either.

        (Y/N)’s sadness was soon replaced with embarrassment once she realized she was crying. Crying in front of a man and have the audacity to rely on him for her own emotions. It only makes it worse that he was her patient. This must be wrong in some way to be touching her patient like this, considering Andrew isn’t in any need of reassurance she should be providing as his nurse. 

        She pushed him away rather quickly, wiping her own tears out of her eyes instead of him doing it for her. Andrew looked confused, mentally wondering if he did something wrong. 

        Why the sudden change?

        (Y/N) adverted her eyes from his face, feeling childish and insecure for crying in front of someone. Even if he was pretty handsome to her, she’d rather not see the pity, or any other sort of expression on his face. 

        Andrew felt a bit annoyed at the sudden change. He was just holding her and comforting her. She was even leaning against him and crying into his chest! Why did she suddenly push him away? Why did she suddenly not want him anymore?

        His eye unconsciously twitched, showing his mild annoyance as a tinge of insecurity washed over him. Before he could question the sudden change of heart, the door opened, Penelope walking into the room.

        Penelope’s face brightened once she saw (Y/N), before it dropped noticing Andrew. Penelope suddenly became skittish, playing with her fingers as she avoided Andrew’s gaze (glare). 

        “Um… Mr. Graves, you’re not supposed to be here at night. It’s protocol for patients to be in their rooms in the night.” Penelope muttered, her green eyes staring down at the white tiles. “Should I escort you back to your room?”

        “No.” He spoke quickly, wanting nothing to do with Penelope.

        Andrew looked back at (Y/N), his gaze softening just a bit as he looked a bit concerned for her. He didn’t want to leave her. What if she needed help with something? What if she cried some more? What if she needed him?

        Andrew mentally groaned, conflicted with his emotions. He unlocked his wheelchair and wheeled to the door, Penelope stepping to the side so he could pass by her. 

        “You can come back during visiting hours.” Penelope added quietly, resulting in a harsh glare from Andrew.

        If only looks could kill.

        Penelope watched as Andrew left the room, before she closed the door behind her for privacy.

        “Gosh, he’s just so intimidating…” Penelope groaned, taking a seat in the room’s guest chair. 

        “He’s not so bad…” (Y/N) hummed, smiling.

        (Y/N)’s not too sure why Penelope’s afraid of Andrew. Sure, he’s a man, but he’s not really intimidating. Perhaps she’s grown desensitized to him and his menacing aura. 

        Or you know, perhaps she just likes red flags. A killer cannibal certainly is a red flag, but that’s just a theory.

        Besides, what’s he gonna do with two broken legs? Punch her? Penelope just has to climb up on the hospital bed or take the stairs. 

        Penelope took in (Y/N)’s appearance, a frown making way on her face.

        "Oh, you poor thing!" she spoke, the words sounding degrading enough, especially after (Y/N) was just crying a few minutes ago. "Who could do such a thing to you?"

        "Who knows..." (Y/N) muttered, ignoring the sudden shock of anger shooting through her.

        She looked at Andrew. Why did Penelope look at Andrew? Yeah, she was searching for him to bring him back to his room, but did she have to advert her eyes and mutter like a damn school girl? 

        The sudden jealousy pissed (Y/N) off, why was she acting like this? Why did she care? What does Penelope even want?

        "Did you need something?" (Y/N) questioned, not doing too well to hide her annoyance.

        Luckily, Penelope was a bit oblivious, yet still seemed a bit on edge.

        "Oh, sorry... Well, before I speak, how do you feel? Do you need anything? Food or water? Painkillers?" Penelope questioned.

        "I'm doing fine..." (Y/N) spoke, gritting her teeth as she smiled.

        "Good. Well, did you hear the news about that patient? Andrew Graves?" Penelope questioned.

        "What about him?" (Y/N) questioned, glancing at Penelope suspiciously as another volt of jealousy shot through her. 

        "Well, I did some digging online, and I found out he's wanted!" Penelope spoke, her voice a bit too loud for her liking.

        "So?" (Y/N) questioned, already knowing this information, before she quickly switched up her attitude, realizing that wasn't an appropriate social response. "Wait, what? Wanted? Like, by the police?" 

        "Yes!" Penelope nodded, leaning closer to (Y/N) in her chair as she spoke. "Wanted for murder! They said he killed four people at their old apartment. Him and his sister, Ashley. They even said one of the bodies had meat cut off it and it was cut up in pieces! They found DNA and blood in their kitchen, on the counter and pots and silverware!" 

        Well, the police only has to worry about one sibling now... (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        (Y/N) stayed silent, unsure of what a functioning human would respond to this. Honestly, she's grown quite comfortable with the fact Andrew is a killer and a cannibal. 

        "I mean, that's just... vile! And disgusting! How could someone do that?" Penelope questioned, her face turning as green as her eyes. 

        "Why did they do it?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "H-huh?" Penelope questioned, surprised. "What do you mean? They kill four people and ate one! They must be insane or something." 

        "Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know why they did it." (Y/N) spoke. "Penelope, we should know better than anyone else that people act out for reasons. We're nurses, we deal with mental breakdowns and patients lashing out all the time, and we know they have motives behind it." 

        "Yeah, but that's a medical setting, when something's generally wrong with them! Andrew seems stable enough!" Penelope spoke. "He must've knew what he was doing!" 

        "Peer pressure?" (Y/N) suggested. "Perhaps his act is a facade? We don't know a person's thoughts or feelings. For all we knew, they could've been in a dire situation. I mean, who just randomly kills four people in one day and run? Something must've happened."

        Penelope looked frustrated, her bottom lip pouting as she clenched her fists. "And? So? Why should we care?! He killed four people, you know! We need to call the police!"

        "No! You can't!" (Y/N) quickly shot up from the bed, flinching as she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach where her wound was. 

        "What? Why not?" Penelope questioned, surprised at the sudden outburst as she leaned back in her chair. "Why are you defending him? We're nurses! We need to help protect people. He could hurt someone else here!" 

        "No! You can't take him!" (Y/N) shouted, throwing the bedsheets off her and rushing to Penelope, ignoring the pain shooting throughout her body as she placed both of her hands on the arm chairs, caging Penelope in. "You can't do that! I won't let you."

        "W-what? W-why are you acting like this?" Penelope squeaked, her hands pressing together as she curled herself up in a ball, sinking herself down in her chair as she stared up at (Y/N), frightened.

        (Y/N) paused, realizing the sudden position she put herself in. Damn it! Why did she just lash out like that? She's never like this! Why can't she just let Andrew go? She needed to think of something quick to diffuse this situation and convince Penelope not to report Andrew.

        "Don't you understand? The police are just going to keep him here until he heals up to where he can go to jail. If you report him now and he's aware of that, he might snap and actually hurt people." (Y/N) spoke, trying to come up with a false reason. "You'll just enrage him and give him a motive to hurt others. He hasn't injured anyone severely these past days, only a few books and hits thrown because he was afraid of us recognizing him and calling the police."

        Penelope looked uncertain, contemplating whether she should listen to the younger and injured nurse in front of her. 

        "B-but—" Penelope started, but was cut off by (Y/N).

        "Penelope, please. Don't be an idiot. Don't do something so unfathomably stupid!" (Y/N) pleaded.

        Just make the idea look stupid. Just act like Penelope's the one being insensible. 

        "He could really hurt someone if the police come and tell him he's arrested. They're just going to explain that he's under arrest, and will be escorted to prison once the doctors deem him healthy enough to go. He'll just be here, drugged up from his surgeries, and that could cause him to not think sensibly, it'll make him more of a hazard to others. We can't afford that, Penelope." (Y/N) explained. 

        Penelope adverted her eyes, (Y/N)'s words seeming to sink into her as she started to appear ashamed of what she was previously proposing.        

        "So... what now?" Penelope questioned. "He's not going to be able to stay here long anyways. We have no emergency contacts to contact for him. He has no records inside our hospital. He can't even fill out any of our forms or such because of his amnesia, either that or he's pretending to not to know the information." Penelope explained. "He doesn't have health insurance or can't remember it, and I doubt he can afford the hospital bills if he can't even remember anything! He probably doesn't even know his banking information if he has it!" 

        “If we tell him that, it’ll be bothersome…” (Y/N) explained. “I mean… he could get mad and hurt someone.”

        “Exactly!” Penelope exclaimed. “I-I don’t know what to do! Should we bring this up to HR or the head nurse?” 

        “No.” (Y/N) spoke quickly. “I-I mean, c’mon? It’s hard to trust these so-called professionals. The hospital is notorious for its accidents and fatalities. I mean, we're all working here because we were rejected by other hospitals because of our questionable backgrounds and court filings! For gods sake, there’s an advisement a town from here that has a doctor suggesting anesthesia for depression and it has our hospital name on it! We can't trust the board for anything!"

        “But… what can we do?” Penelope questioned, feeling hopeless.

        “We’re the smartest nurses in this whole shithole,” (Y/N) spoke.

        Maybe it was an exaggeration, but she needed Penelope to believe her, or at least stop her from reporting Andrew so that he could escape.

        Why does she care so much about a wrongdoer? He should be in prison, he should pay for what he’s done, but for some reason there’s a stabbing sensation in her chest at just the thought of not seeing him again. The feeling was almost as painful as the bleeding wound she currently had.

        She needed new bandages, she’s been putting too much stress her body. She would ask Penelope, but she’d rather not stick around with Penelope any longer. Sure, having Penelope around would make it so she’s less likely to snitch, but there’s also the possibility that she could potentially catch (Y/N)’s unnatural behavior and go back on her words. 

        "I-I just... what if we're making the wrong choice? I can't stand the thought that someone can get hurt." Penelope spoke.

        (Y/N) almost felt sorry for the young nurse. The nurse was only three years older than her, yet she seems utterly more helpless in life than (Y/N). Penelope has a bad luck streak with everything. She's terrible at math and doing her taxes. She's terrible at thinking for herself. She's grown up from foster home to foster home. Every relationship she's been in has been disastrous. 

        (Y/N) would care if Penelope didn’t have such an unhealthy obsession about finding love. The whole reason she became a nurse was to try and nurse someone to health so they’d love her; it’s almost sad, really.

        “I just can’t believe it…” Penelope groaned, burying her face into her hands. “Why are the cute guys always so unstable?”

        Nevermind. (Y/N) doesn’t feel sad for her at all. Absolutely no pity. Void of emotion. She was almost considering the idea of murdering Penelope. Seriously, you're caring about how cute a guy is despite him being a major threat to your life? Should you really be focusing on a cannibal's looks. 

        (Y/N) decided to bite her tongue. There was no reason to start a fight (that, and maybe she's just a bit guilty of this as well...) It still didn't stop the bubbling pot boiled inside her stomach and chest as she glared at Penelope though. 

        “Penelope, can you go find my nurse? I need a new change of bandages.” (Y/N) grumbled, desperate for Penelope to leave her as she sat back down on her bed, wincing as she overstrained herself once more.

        Maybe cornering and intimidating a person while injured isn’t the best course of action.

        “O-oh, right! Sure!” Penelope spoke, popping up from her makeshift ball as she stood up from her chair. “Whats your nurse’s name? I’ll go find them.” 

        “I don’t know their name. I didn’t met them, only my doctor.” (Y/N) explained.

        “Oh, okay then. Well, I’ll ask around and see if I can find them.” Penelope spoke, walking to the door. “Door open or closed?” 

        “Close it.” (Y/N) answered.

        Penelope nodding, closing the door and leaving (Y/N) to her own devices. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief that Penelope was gone; however, there were other things to worry about.

        She needed to figure out a way to solve the Andrew situation. She could talk to Andrew herself and see if he has any insurance. She might be able to judge if he’s lying or not about knowing anything, if Andrew’s a good liar or not, that is. 

        She almost felt compelled to leave her room and go to Andrew’s. She could tell him what happens; no health insurance means paying the full entirety of the bills, which could be five digits to possibly even six after all his car, special requests/needs, surgeries, and days he’s spent admitted.

        It’s fine… she just needs to sleep. She can deal with it another day. If she sleeps now, time will pass quicker and she can get discharged. 

        She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but darkness as she used her drawback to escapism once more, distancing herself from reality as she did her best not to think about her patient.

And chapter 5 is done! I do apologize for it being so long, I wasn't planning on it being so long but I guess I did get a bit carried away... Chapter 6 will have quite a bit of drama and new characters being introduced! Now I just have to get chapter 6 done... which I'm unsure of when will be done, but it's in the works already! Thank you for your patience and for reading, and I'm excited for you all to see the development of (Y/N) and Andrew!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, current chapter, chapter 6, Chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

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[cryptocism]

Since I think about clones like I’m getting paid for it, I've been rotating those alternate universe "what if Bart and Thad were actually raised together" scenarios in my brain, with Thad either post-redemption-arc or pre-villainy. Because adjusting Thad's character to fit an ally role while still keeping true to his core motives and personality is so so fascinating to me.

Like I think there's an immediate first instinct to slot Thad into a "bad" twin category: ie rebellious and prickly, doesn't get along with people, mean lil shit. And obviously it's not wrong bc we're outside the realm of canon, but the reading still feels a little left of center.

Because Thad is mean and prickly in canon. In the Impulse comics he belittles Bart and Bart’s friends/family constantly in his appearances. He loves to goad, and monologue about his own superiority and intelligence. He’s very Not Nice, and he causes many problems, and he even does it on purpose.

But, I think it’s important to consider the context. From the jump Thad knows very little about anything except which team he’s on and who he’s playing for. He gets his orders from an unseen authority and he carries out his tasks because success means his team wins.

For all his self-aggrandizing talk, everything he does is in service of an end goal that doesn't actually center him. He's trying to get revenge for grievances he's never personally suffered, retribution for actions never committed against him. Everything he does is on someone else's behalf.

Thad sees in black and white, us or them. Up until the final few issues of Mercury Falling, Bart and co. are Thad's enemies, of course he's not going to be nice.

So Thad's motivation seems pretty simple: Thawne Supremacy™.

But it’s in Mercury Falling where this starts to fall apart, and the real core of his motivation gets revealed. Thad pretends to be Bart and suddenly Helen is nice to him. Bart’s friends think he’s funny. Bart’s teachers are impressed with his grades. Max ruffles his hair and gives him hugs and tells him he’s done a good job.

If he was actually an inherently mean and standoffish character, if Thad actually had significant personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict, the weight of such tiny acts of kindness wouldn’t completely break him the way that it does in canon.

Thad thinks his goal is superiority and revenge and Thawne Supremacy™, but he's chasing validation. Thad doesn’t have a personal stake in the Thawne VS Allen conflict. He wouldn't get much satisfaction if he actually destroyed Bart and his family. Thad's personal victory would be the recognition after the fact: the praise and attention from the other Thawnes (a group of people he has literally never met) for his success.

He wants validation. That's basically it. And the fact that he gets it so easily from Bart's family and friends doesn't align with how he's told himself things are supposed to work.

Actually tangentially, Bart and Thad’s respective relationships to authority is so diametrically opposed and tbh kind of subversive in a superhero narrative. Where the hero is the one carving his own path without regard to social or societal rules, no fucks to give what anybody thinks of it. And the villain is a chronic people-pleaser.

Just based on Thad’s reaction to simple praise and affection from Max I really think Thad’s motivation has more to do with the response he gets than whatever the details are of any given task. He has no actual personal convictions beyond getting positive attention, and whatever he did have crumbled as soon as Bart’s friends laughed at his joke one time. Which of course leads into the core of his whole conflict at the end of Mercury Falling. He cares too much about Bart’s friends and family now, he doesn’t want to kill them, but worse than that, he’s faced with the sudden realization that he’s on the wrong side.

The Allens gave Thad everything he actually wanted and needed, but his conception of himself is inexorably tied to the Thawnes: who gave him jack shit. These two facts are in opposition to each other, and he can’t reconcile the reality of it.

Anyway all this to say, in an AU where Bart and Thad are raised together or Thad gets an actual redemption arc etc etc, I think my personal take on Thad’s personality whether it be pre-or-post-villainy would be one that is extremely socially conscious. He is much more of a people-person than Bart. Whether he's actually accurate in assessing people's feelings and how to respond to them can be hit or miss, but he wants to behave in a way that gets people to like him.

Pretending to be Bart isn’t remarked upon as, like, a difficult task for Thad. In his internal monologue he’s literally bragging to himself about how easy it is. But what’s especially notable to me is where his act differs from Bart's typical MO. Everyone notices, and lots of people comment, and presumably if Thad didn’t have the excuse of Max’s illness to “motivate” Bart to do better he would’ve been found out immediately. And those things are, specifically: paying attention in class, doing his chores, staying on task, and being helpful around the house. The one thing about Bart he chooses not to emulate is Bart’s rebelliousness.

Thad wants to prove himself, constantly, to whatever authority he respects (probably Max in this scenario) and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. In contrast to Bart, who only listens to authority when the shit they're saying actually makes sense to him. It’s excessively difficult to convince him to go against his own interests. (And I think a key part of that is Bart’s security in knowing that no matter how much he fucks up or doesn’t listen, the people he loves will always love him back.)

Thad’s got the people-pleaser in him that has to deserve whatever he’s given. It’s why he’s happiest when he’s given a clear goal or objective to complete, because it gives him an opening to prove himself.

All this to say that if we are quantifying Bart and Thad as a "good" or "bad" twin, in the eyes of every authority: Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the bad twin, Bart is the bad twin. Bart is the one who doesn’t care about school and whose grades vary wildly depending on his personal interest. He’s the one who goes off to do dangerous shit for fun and gets in trouble constantly and doesn’t do his chores and is thoroughly unconvinced by any authority figure trying to sell him bullshit. 

Thad is the one who needs to know all the rules just so he can experience the joy of following them. Relentlessly obedient. He'll put all his effort into doing all the right things that’ll endear him to whoever he wants to impress - meaning he’s the asshole who reminds the teacher about the assigned homework. Bart might be the most popular boy in school, but Thad is a pleasure to have in class.

Like Thad can (and should) still be high-strung and short-tempered and sarcastic and edgy and mean, because he is. But he can’t be doing all that without rhyme or reason. Colouring every interaction has to be that one-zero binary of ally or enemy. He needs to have somebody he’s proving himself to: a team he’s on and a team he’s against. He’s not an inherently rebellious character. He can go up against The Enemy, whoever he deems as such, but it has to be in service of a hypothetical future in which somebody eventually tells him he did a great job.

And in the interest of continuing to beat a dead horse, it connects to their respective upbringings. Thad and Bart were both raised in VR, but Bart’s experience had the side effect of basically hard-wiring him against insecurity. His world was a playground tailor-made for him, and he was never made to feel bad or insufficient about any aspect of himself. His first interaction with a real human person was Iris moving heaven and earth to save him, without him knowing her, without her knowing him, with no reasoning for the act needed beyond Being Her Grandson. Which is probably a significant factor in why Bart moves through the world with frankly atomic levels of autistic swag.

Thad’s VR upbringing installed self-consciousness in his psyche before any other personality trait. As in: he is immediately made conscious of himself and his relationship with everyone he will ever encounter. He’s told two things: he’s a clone of someone else (inherently derivative, lesser) and that he was made to be superior (a status to achieve). Which is such an instant clarifier for Thad’s everything. Where superiority is a condition that everyone either has, or does not. It’s the one-zero binary again: are they better than me or am I better than them. Being above others is mandatory, and if his superiority is ever challenged by hard evidence or god forbid nuance Thad’s brain physically cannot take it. He needs to be better, to be worse is unthinkable, and there is no other way to be.

And this status of better or worse is, crucially, not up to Thad to decide. He needs The Authority to validate him. Bart never tries to prove himself because he has nothing to prove. Thad’s entire identity hinges on the self-worth he gets from doing a Good Job.

It is such an inherent part of his motives in the Impulse comics canon, which is why it always feels a little off when he’s interpreted as a jackass indiscriminately.

Like I don't think he needs everyone to like him. But I do think he has either one person or a set of very particular people that he needs to like him. Everyone else is either in that circle or outside of it.

(Which is why Bart is such a great foil for Thad tbh. There is no set of words or behaviors that’ll change Bart’s opinion of Thad, because Bart is unaffected by obedience or charm. So ironically Bart is probably one of few people that Thad doesn’t bother to put on even a little bit of an act for.)

While Bart goes with his instincts, his personal beliefs and convictions at all times, Thad is hyper-conscious of big-picture goals. They balance each other out that way. Thad's keeping track of whatever expectations he has placed on him, and how his actions reflect on him and the team beyond short-sighted solutions. He's a team player. AND he's an asshole.