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tsumtsumrry · 11 months

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Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry.

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face.

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet.

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips.

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is.

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it.

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back.

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways.

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm.

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple,

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him.

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it.

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff.

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact.

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan.

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.”

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more.

“Show me. Take me home, H.”

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt.

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it.

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips.

“Whatever you want. Kiss?”

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle.

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something.

“Harry…”

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter.

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you.

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter.

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly.

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement.

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.”

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie.

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips.

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time.

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly.

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top.

“Wanna be my sous chef?”

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry.

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.”

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed.

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.”

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–”

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?”

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.”

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you.

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?”

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out.

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly.

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes.

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles.

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there.

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone.

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around.

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes a mental note to check on you later.

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer.

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture.

“Hello?”

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at.

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath.

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears.

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers.

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable.

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.”

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.”

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end.

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out.

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?”

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response.

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.”

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch.

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him.

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?”

“See you soon, petal.”

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry.

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs.

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder.

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response.

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that.

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face.

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth.

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out.

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you.

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group.

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love.

Dangerous.

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.”

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips.

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.”

Ever the flirt, he is.

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know.

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.”

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him.

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him.

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches.

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit.

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there.

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess.

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands.

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.”

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.”

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh.

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night.

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are.

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.”

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit.

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin.

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind.

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for.

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage.

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in.

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner.

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice.

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it.

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger.

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under.

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind.

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.”

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes.

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family.

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times.

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face.

Uh oh. You know that expression.

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?”

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind.

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.”

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow.

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face.

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims.

Your smile drops.

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore.

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date.

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman.

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless.

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone.

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse.

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over.

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break.

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.”

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go.

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,” you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.”

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home.

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes.

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say.

“I want you to meet—”

You can’t do it.

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up.

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now.

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears.

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt.

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry.

December 24, Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside.

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die.

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day.

Harry.

Over and over again.

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good?

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me.

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please?

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me.

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did.

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried.

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead.

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back.

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me.

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more.

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and go to open it nonetheless.

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door.

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here.

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put.

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―”

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―”

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.”

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters.

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face.

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest.

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours.

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips.

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes.

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it.

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t”

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little.

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—”

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression.

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication.

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–”

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away.

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply.

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs.

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout.

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind.

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time.

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word.

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes.

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels.

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours.

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you.

“I know, I know H.” you nod again.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much.

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?”

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist.

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies.

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear.

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him.

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will.

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks.

“Do me a favor, honey?”

You nod eagerly.

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action.

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts.

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting.

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.”

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased.

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?”

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?”

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are.

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you.

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well.

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.”

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat.

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?”

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking.

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good.

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.”

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you.

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips.

“Did such a good job.”

“M’so proud of you.”

“You come so pretty.”

“So beautiful.”

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come.

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face.

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye.

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is.

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit.

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much.

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?”

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later.

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.”

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home.

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit.

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop.

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before.

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?”

“Meant what?”

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

December 31st, New Years Eve.

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist.

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks.

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life.

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him.

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks.

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look.

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb.

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold.

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look.

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?”

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

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carmyboobear · 3 months

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same.

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for?

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land.

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is.

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there.

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home. They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same.

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind.

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look. No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh.

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.”

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues.

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too.

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.”

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new.

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all.

Says more about him than them, he supposes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.”

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not.

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh.

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows.

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic.

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth.

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them.

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips.

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip.

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor.

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent.

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe.

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking.

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens.

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket.

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted.

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.”

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply.

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere.

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.”

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter.

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside.

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably. There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers.

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all.

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it.

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on.

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird.

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms.

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it.

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all.

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron.

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away.

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself.

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings.

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…�� They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?”

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too.

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected.

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up.

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say.

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.”

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does.

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else.

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him.

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him.

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window.

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window.

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused.

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though.

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed.

He wonders if they’ve noticed.

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair.

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?”

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh.

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects.

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight.

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does.

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud.

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!”

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space.

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter.

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face.

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically.

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten.

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it.

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is.

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth.

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food.

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?”

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it.

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.” Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…”

“...And?”

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it.

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does.

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go.

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten.

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end.

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed.

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep.

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug.

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes.

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly.

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face.

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently.

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling.

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear.

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it.

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things.

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #the bear fanfiction #hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now #they're around the same length #AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!!#my writing #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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oh-katsuki · 6 months

Text

bird of prey (tendou x reader)

series masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader, Bokuto x Reader

Series Summary: Satori Tendou is your best friend, but you fuck for fun.

Chapter Title: Act I, Scene 1 — Play Like Lovers

Chapter Summary: Satori likes your current arrangement. You're friends, arguably the best of friends, and sometimes you fuck. Well, it's more than sometimes. Like rabbits, really.

Chapter Content Warnings: afab!reader, college au, friends with benefits, no strings attached, angst, oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, bokuto is in this too, ushijima mentions, mentions of breeding, mentions of pregnancy, slowish burn (?) they're already fucking tho so romantically speaking, teasing, dirty talk

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: i missed tendou and ended up deciding to write this. i don't have any chapters prewritten so updates will likely be slow, but im trying out a new thing so bear with me. it's probably better read on ao3, but im posting it here too. formatting is the bane of my existence. enjoy <3

next >

Satori likes the cold. He always has. He likes the bite of it. The way it makes his skin feel when he’s been standing outside long enough that the cold begins to feel hot across his cheeks.

There’s a certain solitude to winter that Satori appreciates. It’s as if the world has had a blanket thrown over it and everything becomes muffled and quiet. Sometimes winter makes Satori feel like he’s on another planet, floating through a silent universe in a perpetual winter. He especially feels this way when it snows. He loves the world when it’s like this, calm and quiet and so hazy that he can’t see the street sign a block down.

Satori blinks winter from his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as they begin to water to fight the cold. He inhales, tucking his hands further into his puffy jacket as the crisp air fills his lungs. It’s a quiet night. The first snowy one of the season, and snowflakes fall like little diamonds onto a thinly coated sidewalk.

He doesn’t have a particular destination in mind. Satori is just wandering, savoring the feel of the evening as he strolls through his neighborhood. There are a scant few people outside. It's a weeknight and the neighborhood surrounding campus is eerily quiet in these small hours of the morning. Only the occasional drunk or a couple loved up and leaning on one another, their hands intertwined in the pockets of one of their coats.

Tendou thinks that he could only become one of those two options. The drunk seems to have far less to worry about, stumbling across the sidewalk before coming to a stop on a slanted curve and letting his head fall onto his crossed arms. Not that Satori would want to be him. Don’t get him wrong. He’s not judging. How one man lives his life is absolutely none of Satori’s business and, in the same way he prefers people don’t mind what he does, he won’t mind what the neighborhood drunk does. Still, on a sliding scale of difficulty, the drunk seems to—for the moment—have it easier in Satori’s eyes. Only one person to worry about.

It’s nearing three in the morning and the world has taken on an eerily slanted feel to it. Satori likes the world like this, calm and quiet. No one to talk to or worry about, only the sound of his boots against the thin layer of snow. There’s no crunch, as it hasn’t stuck yet, but if it keeps snowing like this, Satori thinks that it might. He looks forward to it, tilting his head up toward the sky and feeling the soft sting of bitter cold snow as it falls on his cheeks.

—

Teeth, tongue, the press of your body arching up to meet his. It’s hot today, the way you move. Rushed like you’re trying to get something done. Music plays quietly from your computer on the desk and your hands fumble blindly around his body, eyes screwed shut as you let your tongue explore the inside of his mouth.

“You’re eager,” he coos, detaching himself from your lips.

“Sh, sh, sh,” you mumble, pulling him back down to you by the back of his neck and delivering a sloppy kiss. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why?” He asks back, still connected at the lips.

“My housemates don’t know you’re here,” you answer, pushing on his shoulders.

Tendou gives in, letting you turn him over on the bed so that his back is against your headboard. You settle over his hips evenly, placing yourself like you belong there. He wouldn’t be surprised if you felt that way. This is regular enough that you end up like this a lot. Straddling his thighs with your hands on either side of his face.

You tilt your head, kissing your way down his jaw. Your lips press onto the side of his neck and he can feel the way your tongue darts out to taste the salt on his neck. Your hands roam freely up the other side of his neck and across the back of his head, almost like you can’t feel enough of him fast enough. They raised goosebumps along his skin, teasing the parts your mouth isn’t touching.

“And I don’t really want them to find out,” you say into his neck. Tendou feels the hum in his collarbone and shutters.

“And why’s that?” He breathes out, his lithe fingers coming up to pull your hips down against him. Tendou figures that if you’re going to rock your hips back and forth like that, you might as well do it like you mean it.

“They’ll give me shit for hooking up with you all the time instead of getting a real date,” you answer through your breathing. “Something about self respect.”

Tendou leans his head back against the headboard, looking at you over the tops of his cheeks. You’ve pulled up his shirt and your body is curled over itself, your mouth smearing down his heaving chest as far as your posture will let it go.

He supposes that’s fair.

“Suppose you haven’t told them that the no strings attached thing is mutual?” He teases, tilting his head to the side to let you continue to kiss at his neck.

He slides his fingers under the fabric of your sleep shirt, cool fingertips hitting your warm back. Tendou presses his palm flat on your lower back and you shiver away from him, pushing your chest up against his. He likes the way you move. Something about it scratches an itch he’s got. Like watching marbles in a chain reaction.

“I have,” you say, reaching between the two of you to undo his pants. Tendou slips his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants, cupping your ass in his hands. “They just don’t believe me.”

“Hah,” he laughs, tilting his chin forward to kiss you again. He likes the way you taste. “That’s funny.”

“Ugh, can we like,” you pull away from him, your eyes glazed over and your eyebrows furrowed. You keep one hand on the back of his neck, the other splayed on his chest and Tendou idly rolls the fat of your ass across his fingertips.

“Can we like, what?” He imitates through a grin, tilting his head. “Not talk about this?” You say, rolling your hips. “Because I really want to fuck you right now and it’s sort of killing my vibe.”

Tendou chuckles at the way you drop your head and roll your hips against him, tipping his head back again as he lets out a low groan.

“If it means we get to fuck then sure thing,” he drawls, guiding your hips over his crotch by the fat of your ass.

You groan, exposing the hollow of your throat to him as you lean backwards. Tendou leans up to meet you, placing his lips near your pulse point. He bites down on your neck lightly and savors the slight gasp you let out, salving the ache with a quick swipe of his tongue. You cling to him like velcro, rocking your hips over his hardened cock through your clothes. It’s so desperate that it’s almost juvenile, though you’re both well past the phase of being too prudish to not take them off.

He sighs, sliding his hands from your ass and up your back. He cups your shoulders around your body, letting you move your hips against him. Tendou finds that he likes to let you do what you want. There’s really nothing you can’t take from him and as far as he’s concerned, nothing’s off limits. He’s playing a game and right now, letting you win is the most interesting option.

You reach between them to pick up where you left off, fumbling in his pants to palm at him over his boxers, still rocking your hips against the inside of your wrist. Satori groans lightly at the weight of your hand. He likes it. His dick just fucking fits.

You slide your hand back and forth, teasing him the way that you know he likes it. God, in moments like these, Satori is convinced that you’re perfect. You and that perfect body, that perfect fucking pussy. All of it just sort of clicks.

The sexual chemistry between the two of you is palpable. It really always has been. Even when the two of you swore up and down that you were just friends, Satori knew that eventually you’d fuck. And of course, he was right. Months later and here he is, leaning up against your headboard after sneaking in through the window while you give him an over-the-boxers handjob that feels better than what he can do to himself for some reason.

You need it almost every night, and if it isn’t every night, it’s at least three times a week. You’re always together anyways, might as well throw some heavy petting into the mix while you’re at it. That’s just as well with Tendou. Personally, he’s always willing to fuck you if you need it. Especially when you need it. You just get this pretty look in your eye. It’s a lot like the one you’re wearing now, mouth slightly open as you free him from his boxers and swipe the precum from the tip of his dick with your thumb. Satori shudders. It’s perfect.

“If you’re going to fuck me, you should just do it,” he says, his face contorting slightly as you grip his cock in your hand and begin to shift backward between his legs.

“Shut up,” you retort, looking at him through your lashes. “I know you love this shit.”

“Yeah, fuck-” he groans as you take the tip of him into your mouth. “You’re right. I love a tease.”

Good conversation. Good sex. A good friend. There’s really nothing more he could ask for.

Satori brushes the hair from your face, holding it back on your forehead so that he can see the way your mouth takes him in. It’s soft and warm and you hollow your cheeks around his cock in a way that drives him insane. You look so pretty down there. So giving and malleable. And get this, you do it because you like it. God, how fucking sexy.

He likes the way you look from this angle, your eyebrows knitted together and your ass up in the air. He can see the way you rub your thighs together, small pulses that tell him that when he finally gets down there, you’re going to be soaked. You feel good too. Soft skin, soft mouth.

Satori lets out a groan, reaching forward to play with the meat of your ass. He kneads the skin there, rubbing his thumb back and forth against it as if he were just trying to feel it. It hides your face from him for a moment and Satori is sad for the loss, but your ass is soft and giving and you push it back against his hand like you like the way he touches you. Of course you do, Satori only touches you in ways he knows you’re going to like. It gets him off.

You swirl your tongue around his cock, your other hand gripping the base of him and moving along with your mouth. When you do try to take him all the way in, you cough lightly around it, raising your head to catch your breath before lowering your mouth back down. His lower stomach ties itself into knots. That familiar swell begins to mount in him and his muscles tense against his will. Your mouth works him until that slow moving wave pushes against whatever barrier it needs to break for him to finish.

You stop before he gets to cum and Satori feels that swell of pleasure recede into the back of his gut. He pouts momentarily, his chest heaving as you discard your sweatpants and crawl back over him.

Satori places his hand over your cunt like it's a habit. He rubs over your slick folds with four fingers, evening applying pressure across your whole pussy because he knows that it frustrates you. In response, you let out an exasperated groan and grind down against his hand. That only makes it better when he finally centers in on your clit, two fingers dipped between your lips to rubbing at the throbbing bud.

He plays with it for a moment, moving his fingers in a continuous circle. You’re so wet that Satori doesn’t even need to lick his fingers, but he does anyway because he wants to taste you. Slowly, he raises them to his lips and sucks your pleasure off of them, eyeing you while he does so. Then, he places his other hand on your chin and gently forces your mouth open, sliding his two fingers across your tongue.

The muscle gives under the weight of his fingers. Pleasantly, delightfully, you let him mold you. You let him open your mouth further and stick them deeper—all the way into the warm, wet back of your mouth—until you gag around them. It’s an awful sound. Wet and desperate and it leaves you panting when he pulls them out, but Satori likes you messy. He likes you when you’re drooling for it, saliva pooling under your tongue for just a taste of what he gives you.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not a power trip thing. It’s borne out of pure fascination. Like the way scientists like to study molecules, Satori likes to study you. You’re interesting to him. The first to follow through on sex only being sex because Satori—well, Satori fucks you like he loves you. And he loves that you don’t get caught up in it.

You’re desperate for it today. Satori can tell because you don’t even let him finger you before you’re guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“What? No condom?” He drawls through a sly grin.

“Not tonight,” you pant, screwing your eyes shut. Satori’s hands move to your hips, squeezing the fat there and admiring its delightful give. “Don’t have one.”

“What ever happened to safe sex?” He says through gritted teeth, craning his neck forward to get a good view.

“You worried you gonna get me pregnant?” you give a breathy laugh, sinking all the way down on him.

“Depends, you gonna let me finish inside?” he asks through a locked jaw as he feels the warmth of you envelop him.

“Fuck no,” you say, beginning to move your hips.

Satori inhales through his teeth, leaning backwards and holding you by the hips. You take the lead tonight, rolling your hips forward with slow, almost calculated, flicks. He guides you, his fingers gripping at the side of your ass, pulling it apart as best he can. He likes the way it feels when he holds you like this and wonders briefly what it looks like from the back when he lets you fuck him like this.

The music from your laptop is drowned out by the quiet sounds of your breathing. The only thing Satori really hears is the both of you, stifling moans to prevent your housemates from figuring out what you’re up to. He grits his teeth.

Satori has always been on the more vocal side of things. Talking, moaning, laughing, things like that. This though, this is hot too. Like this, he can hear every little change in your breathing. He can hear every time he hits that particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Shit, he can even hear his own breathing, labored and low and mirroring your desperation like you’re both cut from the same cloth.

He loves being inside of you. It’s comfortable. It always feels good in a way Satori has found is hard to come by. You’ve got a good pussy and an even better attitude about it.

When you get close, you always take in a sharp and fast inhale. It’s like a tell. Something that gives away just how good you feel. Satori loves the sound of it. Sometimes, he’ll edge you three or four times just to hear it, just to savor that sweet intake of breath. Tonight though, he’s going to let you have it easy. You deserve to have it easy tonight, as desperate as you are, and this is fun for him too. This position makes it easy to feel just how tight you get when you’re close, pussy clamping down around him at a fast interval even with the upward pumps of his hips.

He’s too impatient to let you fuck him on your own. Satori lets you have it your way, but he wants it his way too, accenting the roll of your hips with subtle pumps. He grips your hips, his fingers sinking delightfully into the fat there and holds you at a good enough angle to fuck. The weight of your breath comes heavy, that little accent and then a slow crawl from your lungs. You shudder, mouth falling open. And Satori, well Satori watches. In fascination, in awe, in sheer pleasure.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, glancing at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

Oh, he loves that. Those little nothings that you babble when you’re breathless and climbing towards that high. Satori can’t get enough of it. Your voice, the cadence of it, how heavy it sounds on your tongue when you force out the sex-laced words.

You crumble quickly. It’s almost desperate the way you push your hands onto his chest and let your head fall forward, cunt clenching down hard around him as you stop the roll of your hips to shudder. Your thighs press harshly against Satori’s sides and he digs his fingers into your hips to keep from cumming inside of you. That’d be pretty bad, though he can’t say that it’s not endlessly tempting.

You don’t waste a moment pulling yourself off of him, wrapping your hand around is cum-slicked cock and beginning to pump. You squeeze the head of it and Satori lets out a low groan. God, you’re being so quick about this that it would almost be jarring if Satori didn’t find it so fucking hot. You’re like… desperate for it. Christ, he thinks he’s gonna cum.

“Can I finish on your face?” He grits out.

“No,” you reply, teasing him by pressing your thumb over the head of his dick. “On your chest. I like it when you make a mess of yourself.”

Then, a familiar, teasing smile lights up across your face. Your breath is still heaving and it makes the expression feel more genuine. Satori leans his head back against the headboard eyebrows pulled upwards in his pleasure.

“You’re fuckin’ sadistic,” he laughs out.

It’s half a groan, his voice strained and thick with his imminent high. He reaches up to toy with your tits, anything really that he can grab. Satori gets handsy when he’s close and he feels the way pleasure mounts in his lower stomach like water fills a bucket.

Then, he peaks, his cum spilling out over his chest. Satori makes an effort to muffle his voice when he does, gritting his jaw and squeezing the flesh of your tit as an outlet for the pleasure of it all. The mess he’s made is warm, spilling into the ridges of his abdomen and the soft lines of muscle there.He’ll have to shower again when he gets home. For the moment though, he just watches his chest heave as you let go of his dick and reach to put two of your messy fingers in his mouth. Satori obliges, swirling his tongue around them.

“Hah, you’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who likes it, sweetheart,” he drones, reaching to take some tissues from the nightstand and wipe up his mess.

“Throw those in the bin,” you say, laying down on your bed as he stands.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Satori stretches for a moment, inspecting his clothes to ensure that the mess was minimal. He turns to look at you on the bed. Your eyes are closed, arms above your head with your sleep shirt riding up on your body, revealing a small glimpse of your fleshy stomach. God, he almost wants to fuck you again.

“Move over,” he says, bullying his way into the bed next to you.

“Fine, but you can’t stay for long,” you reply, lifting your head and putting it back down on his chest. You face the ceiling, picking at your nails. “I gotta shower and finish up a paper.”

“You have a paper to finish but you called me over to fuck?”

“Duh,” you reply. “Needed some sort of stress relief.”

“Most people just eat a bowl of cereal or something,” he says through a smile, his lips curling up in the corners.

You huff and roll your eyes, letting out a short and genuine laugh. “Whatever, you just can’t stay too long, ‘kay?”

“You got it,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes lightly.

Satori tucks his arm under his head, watching your ceiling fan as it spins in circles. He hates the ceiling in your room. You’ve got popcorn ceilings, something that Satori is particularly disdainful of. It’s why he likes having you over at his place, with its smooth and well painted walls. Plus, you can fuck as loud as you want and there’ll be no one there in the morning to hound you both over it.

You can’t stay for long.

He never really understood why you always tell him that. Even without it, Satori never really does.

—

Satori’s morning routine isn’t really a routine at all. On days where he has nothing to do, he rolls out of bed at whatever time he pleases. Sometimes that’s 12 in the afternoon and other times that’s 5:30 in the morning.

He tries his best to avoid early morning classes. Truthfully, he tries his best to avoid classes at all, but hey, when you’re getting a degree, that’s not really an option. Satori’s been relatively successful in that endeavor, keeping most of his class schedule well within the 11 am to 4 pm range, except for one pesky little discussion. Once a week, on Tuesdays, Satori has to drag himself out of bed and be in the classroom at 8 am sharp.

It’s not that he isn’t driven, or isn’t a morning person. Satori just isn’t a rules person, which doesn’t exactly function well within a societal structure. There are always rules. Ones that tell you when to cross the road, where to park your car, when to be somewhere or when not to be somewhere. The fact that he has to get up early on Tuesdays makes him needlessly resistant to getting up, even if he’s awake already.

Satori blinks away sleep in the quiet of his room. He’s woken up about fifteen minutes before his 6:50 alarm and now stares blankly at the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head. What a drag, getting up like this and going immediately into the daily slog, not that anything can be done about it.

He inhales, preparing himself to sit up, before actually doing so. His muscles scream at him, sore with sleep and aching for a good stretch which he gladly obliges with a loud yawn. Cartoonish, almost. Satori laughs to himself as he pulls his body from the bed.

His room is messy. Clothes are strewn about haphazardly across the floor and various items that he’d picked up to mess around with are out of place. He exhales, shaking his head a little bit and telling himself that he’ll clean it when he gets back. It’s not that he minds the mess. In fact, Satori likes a little organized mess. Like what you and him are doing. That’s messy in the most delightful way. But right now, his room is a little too messy, verging on the precipice of dirty, which Satori hates.

He tosses on a soft, long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s the kind of shirt that he’s had for a long while, the ones that feel smooth on his skin. The fabric is so worn that it falls over him almost like tissue paper and he loves the feeling. His black jeans are hanging over the back of his desk chair and he grabs them quickly, shrugging them on over his hips with two quick steps and a pull. The ink on them is faded and though they started their life black, they are now almost a dark gray and look even lighter at the knees and backs of the thighs. He thinks he’ll have to get a new pair soon. Gray doesn’t look as nice with other colors as black does.

The sink in his bathroom is nearly empty, save for one single face wash, his toothbrush, and some toothpaste. He uses all of them in that order, hardly glancing up to look at himself in the mirror except to fix his scraggly long hair. He fiddles with it for a moment, running his fingers through minor tangles that worked themselves into his hair while he slept, before deciding that it looks good enough. The rest of it will sort itself out during the day and fall flat.

His dish is in the sink from the night before and he briefly loads it into the dishwasher and runs it, chiding himself mentally with an eye roll for not doing it the night before. There’s always a 50/50 chance in the morning that Satori has forgotten to run the dishwasher and it antagonizes him as much as anything can antagonize Satori, which really isn’t much.

There’s a black puffer jacket hanging by the door of his modest apartment. It’s a size too big for him, but it’s warm and looks nice on his figure, so he sees no use in telling his mother that she’d gotten the wrong size. It was a gift from her at the beginning of the winter season last year, along with a hat that Satori never wears. The jacket, at the very least, gets some use on account of it suiting his own personal style.

He’s grateful for it when he steps outside of his apartment, shrugging it closer to him as the familiar bite of winter rushes up and under his skin. The sun has only just risen and the world is cast in a familiar orange, pink, and purple glow that makes it feel like a painting. Satori doesn’t mind being out in the world when it’s still asleep. Especially not in the early morning hours just before the sun comes up, when the world is cast in blue as if it were covered in film. Today though, it’s late enough that the world is now wide awake and the bustle of it gives Satori a headache.

He passes businessmen on their way to work, girls in school uniforms rushing to make it through the gate of their school on time, their loafers smacking the floor with a delightful and intrusive clicking sound. His campus is only a few blocks away, around two corners and a straight shot until he hits the main building. He got lucky with his apartment’s location and sacrificed nice amenities for its proximity to his classes. The apartment itself may be crap, but Satori finds it worthwhile for how near it is to the things he cares about. That, and it doesn’t have popcorn ceilings, thank god.

The snow hasn’t stuck yet, which means that the sidewalk is damp with melting ice as the sun begins to warm the pavement beneath it. His shoes will get damp like this. The converse do little to repel the water, instead soaking it in like a sponge. He’s careful to avoid puddles, but should he hit one, Satori won’t dwell. They’ll dry at some point.

He can see the school up ahead. Satori isn’t really a fan of the building style. They’re stuffy and a bit reminiscent of the industrial buildings just outside of the Sendai city limits, but Tohoku University is a good school and Satori thinks it would have been a waste to not accept his admission. As the buildings grow closer, Satori can see the bodies of students wandering. Some talk in small groups and others, the more independent of them, walk hurriedly to their classes with heavy backpacks slung over both shoulders. Their backs curl forward a little, feeling the pressure of the weight.

Right through the quad, through the double doors, and up to the second floor. That’s the path Satori needs to take to get to his classroom, though he’s about 10 minutes early. He pauses just outside of the building, tilting his head to the side as he spots a familiar silhouette. A smile creeps onto his face, lips curling in the corners as he recognizes you.

You’re having a conversation with someone, though Satori can’t quite make out who exactly it is. They’re standing partially behind one of the trees, their broad figure concealed by the trunk of it. As he approaches, he recognizes the other person to be Bokuto Koutarou, one of the core members of the university’s volleyball team. What an odd pair to be seen together, and so early in the morning too. Then, Bokuto leans down and pecks you on the cheek and Satori is more confused than he’s been in a while. When did you get close? When did you start seeing him?

A pit forms in his stomach, though not the kind he’s familiar with. Messy, messy.

“Bokuto, huh?” he says as he approaches behind you, watching with you as the other man walks away. “When did you and him get so… close.” He drags out the last word, hissing out the S through a small smile.

“That,” you start, “is none of your business. It just sort of happened.”

Satori gives you a coy smile, tilting his head in your direction.

“Does he know?” He questions genuinely.

“Know what?”

“About us,” he croons, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

You give him a pointed glance, an eyebrow raised. He knows the look. It’s the one you give him when he’s said something stupid or far too obvious.

“We,” you emphasize, “are friends.”

“Oh yeah,” he nods, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning back as he follows your step. “We’re really good friends. And we fuck for fun.”

You laugh. It’s a shrill laugh, and totally comfortable. He can’t see an ounce of tension in your shoulders and they’re relaxed in the way they usually are when the two of you speak. Satori looks down at you over the tops of his cheeks and a sly grin spreads across his face.

“Well,” you say, though it seems to not have any real purpose in your sentence. It’s almost like an admittance that he’s right, which he knows he is. “What does it matter if he knows, anyway? What’s there to know?”

Satori stops walking, his hands buried deep into his pockets. His head hangs forward and his jaw is open in faux confusion. The strain in his neck posing like this is worth the smile you give him, he thinks.

“That we fuck,” he states, saying it almost as if it’s a shock to him as well.

You stop to roll your eyes and Satori quite likes the way that the expression looks on you. Fed up, but pleasantly so. It gives your features a somewhat light, carefree sense. You look away from him for a moment, almost as if to accentuate just how nonsensical his manner of speaking is, before looking at his face and narrowing your eyes. You size him up and then give a small grin, almost mischievous in nature.

“He suspects,” you say. “But it doesn’t seem like he thinks too hard about it. I think he might if we were like… ex’s or romantically involved, but we’re not, so,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s not serious enough for him to mind yet.”

“Yet?” Satori raises his eyebrows and gives you an incredulous smile.

Despite his demeanor, he feels something odd. It’s almost like his stomach is about to drop, and an unsettling feeling of dread begins to loom over him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, impossibly pretty eyes giving him a very square look in the face.

“Yet,” you confirm, your tone a bit sharp as if to warn him that he’s stepping too close to the line.

He’s not sure what he’s done to warrant that kind of reaction. Satori thought that he’d come off rather disconnected, aloof in the way that your agreement is, but it’s entirely possible that he’d sounded insecure. He furrows his brows at you, almost like he’s confused himself, and then shrugs in a non committal way.

“Right,” he says, beginning to spin on his heel in an exaggerated manner. “Well, you have fun with Mr. Center-Of-Campus,” he smiles, continuing his sentence,” and I… will be going to my photography lab discussion.”

“You do that,” you laugh, putting up a hand to wave. “I’ll catch you later.”

“I’m sure you will,” he says, to which you respond by giving him a tired look and a shrug, like you’re admitting to the implication that you just can’t go without it. It being whatever the hell kind of sexual relationship exists between you two.

Neither he nor you turns behind to glance at the other. Satori starts off back in his original direction and you dip into the building next to his. He’s sure that if he looked, you’d have your fingers looped through the straps of your backpack, probably greeting someone or other that you know on campus.

You’re popular in a way that Satori isn’t. Truthfully, Satori is more notorious than liked and people know him for his strange, roundabout way of speaking and the knowing look in his eye. It doesn’t bother him to think that. He’s heard the way people talk about him, either directly from you or from walking up to a conversation a few moments too early. It doesn’t suit anyone to pretend that he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really mind knowing. It helps to weed out the people he wants to be around versus the people he doesn’t.

You, however, are very well liked. Sociable and blunt in your way of speaking. People like being around you, not just because you’re easy to look at, but because you’ve got a casual demeanor about yourself that makes people feel unjudged and at ease. It’s actually one of the first things that Satori had ever noticed about you, the way that you settle into a conversation as if you’d always been meant to be a part of it. No need to switch subjects or guide it to a more suitable position, you seem to blend effortlessly into social scenes, whether you notice it or not. Maybe it’s because you’re very true to yourself. You don’t recognize yourself as a perfect person and, as a result, you never hold the expectation that someone else should be perfect.

Satori thinks you’re like-minded in that way, though his interpretation of other people’s flaws is more rooted in his treatment by others. People are quick to judge and in all his years of being judged, Satori has just come to accept that that’s the way things are and he can’t blame humans for simply being human. Still though, he has the same idea that people’s flaws aren’t a reason for judgment. They just… exist and that’s fine.

He slides into a desk along the wall, quickly glancing around the room at the people who have already filed in. He’s only a few minutes early and most of his class are already in their seats with their cameras on their desk. Satori doesn’t know many people in this discussion and the majority of his class is either made up of girls that are too afraid to introduce themselves, or pretentious boys who spend too much time thinking about what tortured artists they are and too little time on the actual composition of their photos.

He wishes that Ushiwaka had been able to take this class with him. Satori had suggested that he try to enroll at the beginning of the spring semester, but with the class being an upper division, Ushiwaka didn’t have the previous coursework to be able to do it. Besides, Wakatoshi isn’t really in school for the classes, but rather because he’d been scouted by the campus’ volleyball team to play for them and Wakatoshi had gone because it was a good opportunity to get into the professional division. In that sense, Satori feels that he’s falling behind his friend. After all, Wakatoshi knows what he wants, but Satori only knows what he likes.

This class is pretty irritating. Not just because he has to get up and leave for it at the asscrack of dawn, but also because he feels that the discussions lack any real insight. Every week, they’re expected to upload their photos onto their computers and bring them to class, then, they spend the entire hour going around and discussing goals for the project and what could be improved with their current techniques. It would be useful if Satori didn’t find that so many people half-assed their photos the day before and then brought them in with some made up philosophy on why the snow in the crack of the sidewalk symbolizes their incessant need for human connection.

He doesn’t think this way because he’s innocent of half-assing. In fact, Satori half-asses a lot. Sometimes because he can’t be bothered and other times because he finds the work less valuable than something else he could be doing. Still, he likes taking pictures and this is a class centered entirely on developing a personal work portfolio. It’s easy for him to do the assignments because it’s essentially what he does in his free time anyway, so there are times when he feels that maybe these people just don’t care too much about school at all. That’s a fine thought to have, he thinks. Most artists think like that in some way or another.

Satori wonders if it’s the same in your major. Do literature students phone it in and do you find it irritating? He thinks you probably aren’t bothered by it if they do. It wouldn’t be in your nature to get worked up over the actions of others. You hardly even get worked up over your own actions and he thinks it would be weird to see you get in your head over someone else.

He sits through his class though, explaining the photo he’d taken of you in the early morning after you’d spent the whole evening talking and touching each other. Your face is obscured and your belly is pressed down against the mattress. It’s really only an off centered photo of your back, displaying the lovely curve of it against the crumpled white bed sheets and a bit of your hair. There may not be anything special about the photo to anyone else, but Satori remembers how badly he’d wanted to photograph you then.

Intimacy is pleasant to him in small doses. He likes to play pretend when it comes to loving and he’ll touch you like he loves you, let you touch him like you do, but Satori doesn’t ever think he’ll do it for real. At least not right now when he is so consumed by catching up to his peers in some arbitrary way. Still, the picture is a pleasant reminder to him that intimacy exists even in the most mundane of moments. Arguably, it is most present in them.

He doesn’t say all of this to his class though and someone describes the photo as almost pornographic, which he supposes that it is. It gives the impression of two people just after they’ve gone to bed together and he laughs to himself because that’s exactly what it is. Satori just shrugs his shoulders at the comment. That’s just about what your physical relationship to each other is, isn’t it? Almost pornographic in nature, indulging in each other the way lovers might without ever stopping to think if romantic love factors into the actions at all.

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #tendou smut #yeah!!!#WOO HOO #i always get so nervous posting stuff #especially series #tries to be casual about it #tw: teasing #tw: mentions of pregnancy #tw: mentions of breeding #also i was inspired by bria and lily's rp w me for this so <333

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sayuricorner · 3 months

Text

Ever After High x Twisted Wonderland AU Headcanons part 24: Way Too Wonderland

(Mini) special 7

AU concept

MASTERLIST

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing.

I LIVE!!!

AND I’M BACK WITH A NEW HEADCANONS PART!!! ^^

I am so sorry making you wait for so long, a lot of circonstances in my personal life and very bad cases of writer blocks and lack of motivations got in the way! T_T

But now I did it! The new headcanons part is ready! :D

For this part, you asked for it, you were waiting for it! We’re now going into the Way Too Wonderland arc!!! :D

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-At NRC, after the festival’s events, the students were going on their daily lives, one student however seemed very distracted: Lizzie Hearts.

-Lizzie was being more home sicking than usual, especially ever since she received an invitation for her mother’s birthday.

-Things go similar to the EAH canon: the EAH transfers find out thanks to Brooke and are tricked into being spirited away in Wonderland but instead of the Evil Queen it's Milton Grimm and Snow White who tricked them.

-Since Apple is either a RSA students(Apple's Happily Ever After path) or locked in a mental institution (Apple's Badly Ever After path), Yuu and Grim took her place in the group for the Wonderland adventure.

-The TWST boys who get spirited away in Wonderland with the EAH transfers: the Heartslabyul gang.

-When Riddle learned there's a conspiracy against the current Queen of Heart, he went on board to help Lizzie and the others and the rest of the Heartslabyul gang got ropped in.

-Just like the EAH girls, the Heartslabyul gang, Yuu and Grim get Wonderland outfits.

-As they explore Wonderland, the group end up caught into Wonderland shenanigans and unwillingly step on Wonderland High ground making them meet Chase and forcing them to attend the school.

-Like in the canon, the group follow the school studying course to graduate and be able to leave.

-Riddle, Lizzie, Maddie and Kitty are the ones that come out the best in those classes.

-The others aren’t going bad at the class but some have big difficulties to go with the classes’s weirdness (*cough*Deuce, Ace and Grim*cough*).

-During their “stay” at the school the group meet Lily, the daughter of the White Queen.

-While talking with her, they learn she found out some times ago a book which looked very much like the Storybook of Legends(as she never saw it in person before Lily isn’t sure) and during a conversation with her mother through mirrorpads, the latter “advised her” to give the book to the Queen of Hearts for her birthday.

-She was about to add more when the group had to go back to classes.

-Back at NRC, everyone is actively searching for the missing students.

-Brooke was very frustrated to not be able to do anything to help, no matter how often she tried to contact someone through NRC’s mirrors but failed every time.

-She then discovered she can interact with objects, an ability she used to send a message which got found by Darling who then without wasting any time put on her armor, took Sir Gallopad and went to Wonderland through NRC’s well to go help her friends.

-She managed to infiltrate Wonderland High and to end up in the same classes than the NRC group and warn them about the conspiracy against the Queen of Hearts.

-Like in the EAH canon, Courtly made sure to make the classes impossible for the NRC group to succeed.

-At the chess game turned into a un-chess game Raven took Lily’s place as the white queen piece much to Lily’s frustration(‘I never get to play!”).

-Ace profit from the chess game changements to provoke a battle dance which result in a battle dance between Chase and Darling and give the opportunity for the others to sneak away.

-They get however intercepted by Lily who doesn’t understand why they sneak away like that and risking to fail their courses.

-When they explained to Lily about the conspiracy and the possible involvement of the White Queen, Lily was at first in denial ‘cause that would mean that not only her mother is involved in a crime against the Queen of Hearts, which is VERY severe, but also used her as a pawn which in the white chess kingdom and in the red chess kingdom is extremely serious.

-Headcanon: In Wonderland, using a chess piece which is beneath or against it purpose is a crime which could be very severe to an act of treason if the chess piece used is a royal piece.

-The others insist and told Lily to be on the look out and leave.

-Like in the canon, Courtly played with time and make the group failed their classes and get them sent to a trial.

-Things were not doing good for the group and they were about to be found guilty when Deuce objected that Courtly committed a more severe fault by having transgressed some of the Queen of Hearts rules.

-The rules in questions are “One must not play with time as, like with food, time must not to be wasted” and “Creating more no-sense in a no-sense society only disturb society’s order, this why, any no-sense perpetrator must be punished”.

-Courtly try to deny it but thanks to their magic the NRC group managed to prove she indeed messed with time to sabotage the group’s classes, which had also unwittingly sabotaged the classes of all the other students of Wonderland High.

-The more Courtly tries to justify herself or make up excuses, the more the group, particularly the Heartslabyul group, point out a Queen of Hearts rule she broke.

-Courtly, being so frustrated, end up snapping at them “WHO CARES ABOUT THOSE STUPID LAWS?!”.

-This put her in trouble with the caterpillar judge and in panic, Courtly teleported away thanks to a magical device.

-She teleported in her office to call Milton and Snow White in panic but the two told her to get a grip and that all is still according to plan ‘cause the White Queen reported to them that Lily had give the true Storybook of Legends to the Queen of Hearts for her birthday and told Courtly to go retrieve it.

-Meanwhile, Lily, still a bit shaken by what the NRC group told her, called her mother hoping all this was just a misunderstanding, but to her horror the White Queen confirmed that she was aware that the book Lily give to the Queen of Hearts was the actual Storybook of Legends and revealed that she told Lily to give the book to the Queen of Hearts ‘cause it was part of a plan to give the book back to Milton Grimm and to dethrone the Queen of Hearts to “Make things straight again”.

-She was even acting as if Lily was on board with the plan and ended up the call, leaving her daughter drowning in the horrible realization that not only her mother committed the crime of having used her daughter, her heiress, as a simple pawn but also for participating in a conspiracy against the Queen of Hearts.

-With the NRC group things realized that Courtly escaped to go steal the Storybook of Legends and quickly escaped Wonderland High to go to the Card Castle.

-Things go a bit like in the EAH canon and Kitty at one point vanished to go retrieve the book in the present room and Riddle, although at first upset to see Lizzie this distressed, quickly realized that the Queen of Hearts was doing an opposite game.

-Kitty reappeared smuggly when Courtly came with the “book” in her hands thinking she won and used a magical device to permit Milton Grimm and Snow White to enter Wonderland and give her the book.

-But when she asked them about her future “new destiny as Lizzie’s remplacement” like they promised only for Milton, Snow White and the White Queen to look at her as if Courtly was crazy and told her that there was no way she would take Lizzie’s destiny and that this plan was to push her and all the other “EAH students” to go back to the “rightful destiny” making Courtly realized that she have been tricked.

-But when Milton opened the book and try to defuse the illusion magic of the wonderland water, he realized it wasn’t the actual Storybook of Legends but a simple sketchbook stylized like the Storybook of Legends and then noticed a smirking Kitty holding the real book.

-See, when Kitty talked with her mother on Card Castle’s roof, the latter give her a sketchbook looking like the Storybook of Legends under the pretext that those were very popular in Wonderland and that she wanted to give it to Kitty as a gift ‘cause “it would be useful to her”.

-This gave Kitty the idea, once she appeared in the present room, the idea of replacing the disguised Storybook of Legends with the sketchbook so like this Courtly would find it instead of the real one.

-Furious, Milton Grimm by using his magic summoned strange dark creatures to attack the NRC group to take the book.

-The NRC group were shocked to see that the creatures’s aura was the same than the overblot monsters’s.

-The thing is: When Milton got interested in the overblot forms, he studied them, even collected the dark rocks from overblots to create minions with them and his magic.

-As the NRC group were about to fight, despite the creatures outnumbering them, everyone got suddenly interrupted by an army composed of the white chess piece students, Darling, Chase and all of them lead by none other than Lily.

-The White Queen tried to defuse the situation but Lily snapped to her that they don’t take orders from a traitor.

-With the White Queen’s confusion Lily is like “White Queen! You are accused of high acts of treason for having conspired against the Queen of Hearts and for having used your own heiress for a role beneath her role as a royal chess piece!”

-A battle happens with the chess pieces and the NRC group against Milton Grimm, Snow White, the White Queen and their creatures.

-Through the battle, Lily give orders and instructions to the chess pieces students like it was a game of chess.

-At one point, Raven found herself with the book and as she was about to be attacked by Milton’s creatures, she unlocked her unique magic “Mirror on the wall”.

-This unique magic permits Raven to create mirrors which act like portals that Raven can use.

-She use her new found unique magic to escape the creatures’s assault.

-Thanks to the efforts of the TWST group and of the chess pieces students, Milton’s creatures are little by little defeated.

-Snow White, enraged by how things are going, was about to use the little number of spells she knows to attack Raven only to be blocked and finding herself in a 1v1 against Vil.

-Courtly, that everyone forget about in the heat of the battle, enraged was about to take it out on Lizzie but Riddle spotted her in time and used “Off with your head” to put a collard on Courtly and incapacitate her.

-At one point, Raven noticed Milton Grimm being about to throw a spell attack on Vil, she used her “Mirror on the wall” to teleport herself just in time to throw herself between Vil and the spell, using the Storybook of Legend as a shield which made the spell and the book and turning it into ashes, much to the horror of Milton, Snow White and the White Queen and freeing officially the citizen of the Ever After world from the Destiny ideology.

-With Milton, Snow White and the White Queen been stunned in horror with what happened, Lily and Lizzie profited from the situation to make a direct attract on Snow White and the White Queen and as they incapacitate them both, Lizzie and Lily both tell with a smirk “Check mate!”.

-Seeing his allies defeated, Milton was about to retaliate, he got interrupted by the surprise apparition of the Evil Queen and the teachers of NRC who even destroyed the last creatures.

-Turns out the teachers back at NRC found also Brook’s message about what was happening in Wonderland and after they contacted the Evil Queen, they go to Wonderland through the way in the NRC’s well.

-Seeing they were surrounded, Milton and Snow White got no other choice but to retreat and escape, leaving the White Queen behind.

-Everyone celebrated the victory, the White Queen got arrested for her treason against the Queen of Hearts and got removed from her title as the White Queen and the title was then given to her daughter Lily.

-But the rejoices died down when the atmosphere became tense because of the presence of the elephant in the room: the Evil Queen, the one responsible for the curse in Wonderland, being present.

-But what shocked the Wonderlandians was the Evil Queen, being respectful toward the Queen of Hearts, bowing to her and solemnly apologizing for having put the curse on Wonderland.

-While the Queen of Hearts appreciate the Evil Queen came clean about her wrong doings, she still had committed a big crime against Wonderland by having put the poisoning curse which created more chaos in Wonderland and had broken the “Creating more no-sense in a no-sense society only disturb society’s order, this why, any no-sense perpetrator must be punished”.

-As the atmosphere was becoming a bit uncomfortable, Riddle came up with a solution with the Queen of Hearts rule 053 “You must replace anything you steal”.

-Since the Evil Queen had “stolen” the no-sense order of Wonderland with her curse which made the Wonderlandians madder, her punishment could be that she had to “replace” the no-sense order by removing the curse and bring everything back to “normal” in Wonderland.

-The Queen of Hearts, interested by the suggestion and intrigued by the fact that someone this young and who is not a native from Wonderland seem to understand her rules well enough to know how to use them, accepted the idea and decreed that as punishment for her crimes against Wonderland, the Evil Queen will had to remove the curse she put on Wonderland, punishment the Evil Queen accepted.

-With Raven’s assistance, the Evil Queen and Raven used their magic to remove the curse bringing Wonderland back to “normal” and removed the barrier and the Evil Queen is officially forgiven by the Queen of Hearts.

-Everyone was happy but then came the next matter: what to do with Courtly?

-After much discussion between the adults, it was decided that for having actively participate in the conspiration against the Queen of Hearts Courtly was going to be exile from Wonderland to NRC where she will be a student and being straighten up and being in house arrest where the teachers and the students will keep a very close eye on her.

-Once everything was settled, the Queen of Hearts invited everyone to her birthday party to celebrate the end of the curse.

-During the party the Queen of Hearts get to know Riddle, who was very honored to meet the current Queen of Hearts, and was very impressed by the amount of knowledge and understanding her daughter’s new friend had about her rules.

-If whoever who use the AU go with the Riddle/Lizzie ship: The Queen of Hearts will approve of the relationship, thinking Riddle is a fine young man perfect for her daughter and during a play of croquet during the party she will give Riddle a bright pink flamingo which Riddle and Lizzie will quickly understand the meaning as, as stated by the rule 069 of the Queen of Hearts rules “If the queen approve her heir’s relationship she must give her blessing during a game of croquet by offering her future in-law a bright pink flamingo”(made up rule for the AU).

-During the party Crowley and the other NRC teachers interrogate the NRC group about what happened to the Storybook of Legends and were very pleased to learn that the book was destroyed and Crowley happily announced that he will send a message to their world to be spread across Twisted Wonderland and the Ever After world to announce the wonderful news.

-As the party was going on, back in Twisted Wonderland and the Ever After world everyone received the news about the destruction of the Storybook of Legends, putting everyone in a euphoria, the Ever After world citizen were all overjoyed that they were finally officially free, that the destiny ideology finally came to an end.

-But back in the Never After realm Milton and Snow White, but particularly Milton, are enraged by what happened to the Storybook of Legends, falling step by step into madness in their anger and hunger for going back in control.

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TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@zebrabaker , @twistedwonderlxnd , @cowardlybravette , @iwilldietomorrowyees , @balsae , @shinypainterkid , @biscuitbirdpeach , @feuilleszuyu , @pale-lady-dreamer , @fanartreblogs , @kindestwalkingmentalbreakdown , @yue-caelum , @shuirosansshitposts , @sugarangel121 , @boddah-dreams , @icant-choosename-help , @lunartaravlar , @that-vixen , @houseoftitans , @epel-felmiers , @ur-secret-is-save-with-me , @myscalesofjustice , @palebyulsoo , @minnie-root , @smeraldo-flowers-for-you , @fandom-and-fanficlover-a-lot2005 , @yuu-did-what , @lovelyllamasblog , @justagirlwithtwokatanas , @roseberry-memories , @4mnd4aph , @xianeestrxnger , @la-chica-del-jardin-magico , @roseinbloom02 , @janellemeap , @not-someone-who-matters , @sach216 , @annastasha , @alexglitches , @peskygirl13 , @skag810 , @slumberingprincess-blog , @sam-spectra , @selfshipbabie , @quiet-oracle , @k0tln , @mysticsoulgirl , @autumnlover2018 , @bstormhands , @souleateralicestein , @fairyfel , @anime-discussions , @rgc2001 , @dracupie , @secretlawyercolorscissors , @idk-i-want-mcl-content , @tinkerblunder , @demigodseameg16 , @queenstardusts-blog , @lilmeowmeow7 , @qualityhistorygamingwinner , @boricua-suerte12 , @jasmineblogs43 , @plumass , @itz1the1meme234squad , @anonymousfanfictionlover-blog , @moonsungmylove , @food-lover9000

#ever after high #twisted wonderland #ever after high au #crossover #raven queen #lizzie hearts #riddle rosehearts #way too wonderland #headcanons #headcanon #au idea

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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WIBTA if I ask a friend to stop certain media habits when we’re around each other?

I know this is extremely common on this account but this particular situation kinda scares me bc me and my friend are really close and I don’t want her to freak out. So I (16F) and my friend J (16F) have known each other since we were like 3/4. I am diagnosed autistic and she is in the process of a diagnosis through school (ik this sounds irrelevant but it will be later). Recently she came over and we like a lot of the same media so I decided to put on this one tv show. My friend is a frequenter of tiktok and often gets spoilers for shows on purpose, whereas I will actively black list tags & stuff on tumblr to avoid them. So I put on this show and she keeps like mouthing along with clips or songs in a way that sort of. I can hear her lips/tongue moving and it sets off my sensory difficulties, and is generally loud when we’re watching. I like occasionally commenting on things like theories, but she shushes me because she wants to watch ‘quietly’. We were watching with one headphone each and just general mouth noises make me want to cry, I had to block my other ear with a pillow (lol). I know she’d probably get genuinely over apologetic and sad if I ask her directly not to do it, so I keep hoping that she can take the hint (yes that is a bit of an asshole move but I don’t want to upset her), and maybe sort of nudge her by saying ‘oh I don’t want spoilers, it kinda ruins it for me, doesn’t it for you?’ Ik I’m heavily relying on social cues (which I’m not the best at) but she from my pov seems to react better to and understands better indirect criticism than direct. I’m scared I’ll upset her if I tell her but every time we watch something together it makes me feel ill. worst thing that could happen is she refuses to talk to me about or watch stuff with me?? which I really don’t want I genuinely don’t know.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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transboysokka · 6 months

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tell me about autistic Zuko (modern au or canon. Like how he grew up, why it’s justified in canon, how people around him react to it/are they assholes or not) bc I’ve been thinking about him but I can’t seem to articulate all my feelings into words and you’re good at that <3

hahahaha gladly here is a smattering of Facts and Evidence, in no particular order

Fact #1: His special interest is the Avatar. That boy’s done so much research!! (I’m joking with this one and yet… 👀)

Evidence #1: His father was embarrassed of him when he was a kid. This could have been for a variety of reasons including that he’s gay but also if you are trying to raise an heir of a powerful nation, you would see a lot of autism symptoms as a weakness, especially things like awkwardness, difficulty making eye contact, etc

Evidence #2: He doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends growing up which can also be explained in different ways but a kid just following around his sister and her friends all day? sus

Evidence #3: The way he rehearses what he’s going to say to Aang at the Western Air Temple… and the awkwardness of it makes it So Much More… it’s the most really, THE autistic of scenarios. We GOTTA practice big conversations like that before they happen, we just do…

Evidence #4: He borrows from other scripts for social interaction. You know when he’s trying fo get along with everyone at the air temple and he makes tea for them and try to tell a joke? Why does he do that? Because he’s mimicking Iroh, who is probably the most outgoing person in his life, and following exactly what Iroh does to be friendly and ingratiate himself with others…

Evidence #5: Missing social cues. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head but I think we’ve all seen it. Also “That’s rough, buddy” is something he TOTALLY stole from someone else because he had no idea what he actually was supposed to say in that situation

Fact #2: now HERE’s a guy who feels deeply but is SO bad at expressing or controlling his feelings. Remember when he was worried about the comet and instead of talking about it just ATTACKED HIS FRIENDS?? oof yeah

Important Headcanon #1: Zuko is really sensitive to texture and has ARFID, which does have a high overlap with autistic folks. This “pickiness” causes real problems for him, especially when he’s v busy being the Fire Lord…. He tends to eat the same foods a lot to sustain himself (fire flakes) and makes the same exact tea for himself every single day. He DOES like to bake and cook though, and is quite good at it, even if he won’t eat it all

Headcanon #2: Our boy’s special interests are history, dao swords, and baking

Headcanon #3: Not a fan of eye contact

Theory #1: Our boy Sokka def has that ADHD and I just don’t think it’s that common or easy for ND folks to be in a relationship with NT folks (I have no proof of this but just think about it for a sec) so therefore Zuko must be neurodivergent

This is a big ol’ mess but for a MUCH more comprehensive and comprehensible Auristic Zuko explanation, please refer to this masterpiece of a post which I just found after spending a bunch of time answering this ask lolol

#thank u tho anon this was fun to think through #quesTian #atla #autistic Zuko

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lorcandidlucienwill · 2 months

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So I think we can all agree that the Archerons were so weird because they didn’t bicker like real siblings, so here’s a snippet of a fic I’m writing where all the sisters are arguing. This takes place during a dress fitting for Elain’s wedding. Warning: lots of inner circle slander

Nesta scowled at her reflection as faeries fussed over her, adjusting the gown she was wearing.

“You look lovely, Nesta,” Feyre said from the seat beside her. “Easy for you to say,” Nesta muttered. Feyre looked magnificent in an electric blue halter top paired with black slacks and boots. A circlet of small crescent moons lay upon her forehead. “I look ridiculous.” Nesta glared at the gold dress she had been shoved into again. “God, it’s the same as my hair. Can’t you get a red dress, at least? This makes my skin fade out.” At last, the dressers obeyed, pulling the ill-fitting monstrosity away from her body.

“You looked pretty in that dress, Nesta,” Elain said gently, her hair up in a jumbo bun at the top of her head, wildflowers surrounding the band holding it up. She wasn’t getting fitted today, but she had come to see what dresses Nesta and Feyre would be wearing. Not like Elain would have any difficulty with her dress. She looked perfect in everything she wore, except perhaps that black dress she’d once worn in the Hewn City. It was annoying.

“Quit lying Elain, I looked like wallpaper,” Nesta snapped. Then she sighed. “Red is truly my color, but that blonde bitch everyone thinks is sooo beautiful is always wearing it, so I usually opt for black.”

“Don’t speak that way about Mor,” Feyre said sharply.

“I’ll speak of her however I like, little sis. She’s not my friend, and frankly, she isn’t really even yours.”

Feyre glowered at her. “She saved me from Tamlin.”

“Did she do that for you, or for little Rhys-rhys? Has she ever stood up for you in front of Rhysand? She certainly despises me; thought me fit to throw into the court of nightmares. I highly doubt you’re much different.”

“Yeah, I am. Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch all the time, people would treat you differently.”

Nesta laughed sarcastically. “Because 500 year old uber powerful Fae warriors can’t handle a 23 year old formerly human woman handing their asses to them, can they?”

“You’re really going to start this now, with my wedding just around the corner?” Elain complained. Nesta whipped her head around to her. “Oh, sure! I absolutely care about this sham of a wedding! Feyre’s mate is a jackass, my mate is a jackass, but perhaps third time’s the charm with you, huh, Elain?”

“Lucien is ten times the man Rhysand will ever be,” Elain said coldly, her temper causing her voice to raise volume. Nesta opened her mouth to say that this doesn’t mean much considering Rhysand is a small boy stuck in a man’s form when Feyre interrupted. “Wait a damn minute. You both despise my husband?” she demanded.

“What gave it away, Feyre?” Nesta drawled. “Me constantly insulting Rhysand, resisting his orders, and declaring him not my high lord? Me not wishing to live with the rest of you? Elain literally leaving Night to get away from him?”

“I thought Elain left Night because of Azriel!”

“Azriel?!” Elain let out a snort which turned into such mirth that Nesta stared. “That broody, brainless bat not man enough to speak about his feelings in any capacity? You think I’d leave because of him? As if! I left because I got tired of your fake family’s fake welcome and decided Lucien was better than the lot of them.”

“Lucien let me get hurt in Spring!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Feyre!” Elain shrieked, and Nesta gasped. Elain cussing was something Nesta frankly thought she’d never hear. “Lucien told me his side of the story, and it seems as if your head was too far up Rhysand’s ass to realize everything Lucien has done for you!”

“Just like Feyre never acknowledged the work we did around the house when we were in the cottage,” Nesta muttered. Elain nodded. Feyre stalked up to Nesta and slapped her face so hard her neck tilted. “Oh no you didn’t,” Nesta snarled, and she shoved Feyre into a coat rack, taking her and the rack to the ground. The two of them began wrestling, Elain crying, “Stop, you idiots, stop!” in the background. “Help, there’s a fight going on in here!”

#nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron #idk what this is lol #archeron sisters #fanfic

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Side B Round 1 Match 11

Propaganda:

Mikey -

"This is a headcanon that didn’t originally occur to me, but then I encountered it in the wild, and something in my brain kinda lit up like ‘!!!’. I couldn’t stop turning the idea over in my head, like a slow roasting marshmallow, getting dangerously close to an open flame. So, here we are. First of all, Mikey is the leader of a biker gang. He has an immense interest in motorcycles (including their parts and repairing/building them), something of which he is able to bond with other delinquents over. He is frequently commented on by others as showcasing ‘childish’ behavior, such as whining when he doesn’t get his way, taking naps on his vice-commander, Draken’s, back or getting upset when he receives a kid’s meal with no flag in it. He often relies on Draken in a caretaker sort of role, such as providing the aforementioned flags to avoid meltdowns, tying his hair up just the right way in the mornings, going to his house to wake him up (all these things appear frequent activities/rituals Mikey relies on), and being “his heart.” Mikey appears to have naturally low empathy. Pretty early on in the series, he and Draken pay a visit to a girl who was put in the hospital by a rival gang, for being affiliated with some of their members. Her parents encounter them and they are furious that anyone involved in gang activity would even dare show their faces, despite Mikey and Draken not being the ones to actually hurt her. He insists they shouldn't apologize to the parents, because it's not their fault and they personally didn't do anything, failing to comprehend the bigger picture, that the lifestyle of delinquency and crime in general and the violence it breeds, not just between those who partake, but innocents caught in the crossfire, is what led to their daughter's assault. And they are feeling grief and anger, thus acting irrationally and lashing out (which, while illogical to Mikey, is a typical emotional reaction to this sort of situation). But he eventually amends his opinion at Draken’s urging—reserving emotional consideration for when his friends are involved primarily. Difficulty regulating emotions, selective listening, and self-centeredness are also all traits that Mikey has exhibited. He often has atypical/repressed facial expressions. He has safe foods—preferring sweet things like dorayaki and taiyaki above all else. He has a comfort item in the form of an old, raggedy towel, which is, in his words “his whole life,” and refuses to give it up even when his family urges him to throw it out. “The tip of his towel” is canonically his “favorite spot”—He is seen stimming with it by rolling it up and kneading it with his hands and fingers. He also prefers to dress for comfort, in loose and baggy clothes whenever he is outside of his gang uniform, and he always wears the same flip-flops, even when it would seem inconvenient. Some other things that don’t necessarily point to autism, but maybe could be considered in the broader picture with everything else?

Routine night motorcycle rides with his brother and childhood friend, which he continues, same time and route, after their deaths, while talking like they are still there with him (though this is more him just honoring their memories and finding comfort in these old actions)

‘Dark impulse’ flare-ups could be interpreted as meltdowns that cross into violent territory? (Like after Sanzu allegedly broke his new toy as a child) But again, dark impulses are a whole other can of worms that could probably be likened to other things better than autism

He is canonically considered a martial arts genius/prodigy, which could be read as some sort of savantism, but also just typical shounen anime shenanigans Despite some of the shakier things to consider, I find myself really liking the idea of autistic Mikey, and I do think there’s a lot in the story in favor of that reading of him. I’d love to see him represented here!"

Yotasuke -

"He has terrible social skills and doesn't filter his words, and although he does not have bad intentions, he often comes off extremely cold or harsh, saying things like "Talking with you irritates me so can you please leave me alone?". He struggles to make friends, especially since he purposefully pushes people away. Yatora, the main character, brings the number of contacts on his phone to a grand total of three. His wardrobe consists of almost exactly the same shirt over and over again. He holds his pencil and chopsticks extremely weird. He loves animals and is often pictured with them, for example cats and rabbits. He was considered extremely talented at art when he was a child, and his art is still amazing but it has messed up the way he interacts with others. He feels as though art is all he has. This causes him to resent Yatora, who appears to have so many skills and career options, as well as a thriving social life. Yotasuke also has a very strained relationship with his mother, who can be quite manipulative at times. He is also very silly if that means anything to you. Everyone should go read Blue Period actually."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tr #mikey #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey tokyo revengers #manjirou sano #sano manjirou #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #tokrev mikey #mikey tokrev #blue period #yotasuke takahashi #takahashi yotasuke #blue period yotasuke #yotasuke blue period

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multidimensionalguidance · 8 months

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🌟🩺 Chiron Observations #2 🩻🌟

Here’s a continuation to my previous post of Chiron in strong (conjunction, square, opposition) or soft (sextile and trines) aspects to planetary bodies.

🧠 Mercury 🧠: there is a pain that stems from your communication skills. During early life you might have been silenced and misunderstood. You were not allowed to express freely or felt like you were inadequate at it. There could literally be a difficulty or impediment in speech or thought process. A mental wound that only you understand. Since words were probably used as daggers to hurt you, there might be a tendency of you doing the same when triggered. Any time someone makes you feel inadequate, words will seek to cause the pain you’ve previously experienced. This might hurt you and your relationships a lot until you become aware of this tendency. There could also be wounds formed by siblings or painful interactions with them throughout your lives. This can make interactions with people younger or the same age as you feel like a tedious task. There could be a fear of not being mentally agile enough or as if you aren’t clever enough, which paradoxically could make you focus on it so much that you develop a very sharp mind. If you know several languages, there might be embarrassment associated with how you sound in one of them, and probably because it doesn’t allow you to express yourself as well as you know you could. You might feel like a brother or sister to those around you. You are not behind anyone on a mental level. Your mind is here to heal itself and allow others to do the same just by hearing you speak. Your power is in your voice, and once you’re comfortable with discussing topics related to mental health those that need healing or help will be very thankful for your insights. They will see you as someone who can guide them on a mental level to get rid of any blocks that might not be allowing them to be their best version.

💌 Venus 💌: relationships of all kinds, but specifically romantic ones create many wounds. You might have grown up feeling uncomfortable in your own feminine energy (regardless of gender), values, creativity, and mannerisms. As if nothing seems to be fit for you, and nothing felt right. Dealing with love and feminine relationships was very difficult for you growing up. You never felt fully loved by others nor felt girly or womanly enough when next to your feminine friends. You might have decided to reject these themes all together. Maybe even avoiding all Venusian things, as simple as not wearing the color pink or disliking anything that seemed hyper feminine. You are here to understand that feminine and masculine energy exists within all of us, and it is our gift to express them as freely as we want without feeling stuck or shackled by one or the other. Work on your Venus traits (including those associated to your sign) by trying out bright colors, enjoying self care nights, playing with your style, and indulging into everything that makes you feel empowered in your own feminine energy. As for relationships, this might be a bit more difficult to navigate until you are 25+ and your Venus matures. Love does not have to be a source of pain. Chasing or seeking for someone to love you will only bring more pain, for you are telling yourself that you do not inherently deserve love just by existing, and can only receive it once you seek it outwardly. The more you focus on empowering your Venus, the more relationships will heal. Romance is important, but the love you feel for yourself is far more relevant, and it will dictate the love you’re willing to accept from others. Once you integrate these lessons, being loved by you will heal others. Your love will feel unforgettable to others. They will seek to be close to you just to experience how strong your feminine energy has become, and sit down to wonder how they can learn from you. It will be like going from “I have no idea what makeup is..” to “Everyone keeps on asking me to do their makeup and style them all the time”. That’s Venus and Chirons gift to you on a very superficial level.

🧨 Mars 💥: the painful lessons come from understanding the weight and importance of your action and physical drive. You might be harsh when it comes to these aspects with others, and most likely because its a harshness you’ve experienced from others. Masculine energy in general is difficult to embody due to possible traumatic wounds that have been associated with it. Interacting with individuals who had a lot of it wounded you at some point in your life, either physically, mentally or spiritually. Perhaps in all ways previously mentioned. Learning to heal this energy within you will be a source of strong healing and power. Once you empower yourself in the ways that you use your drive, motivation, and more harsh aspects to achieve your goals, it will motivate and help others heal this within themselves. Life will keep on testing the way you channel this energy to aid you on your evolution, and awake the forces that will let you harbor your spiritual gifts. There might be a likelihood in getting burned and experiencing physical wounds. If you’re someone who embodies a lot of feminine energy, be extra careful when dealing with toxic masculinity. This is something to be mindful in all situations outside of astrology, but I’ve noticed a probability of it being a tad more dangerous for these natives. There is powerful physical healing that comes natural and can be developed, such as Reiki or anything that works towards aiding physical wounds, etc. Might even be really good Doctors if they ever choose to do so, or might be naturally attract or be attracted to being healers.

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pyrus-salicifolia · 25 days

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I don’t know, I still have a hard time making friends even with other autistic people.

When I got my diagnosis a while ago, I kinda expected that I’d start talking to autistic people and make a bunch of friends and be effectively “fixed”. Since logically, I thought, I’d be able to communicate perfectly fine with people with the same thought process and struggles as me. We’d really get each other and become best friends.

That didn’t happen and I cried a lot. I can’t be the only one who experienced this, right? I feel like this is how autistic friendships are often portrayed. And sure, I have a few autistic friends who I’ve really bonded with, but it’s equally as difficult as maintaining a relationship with anyone else sometimes.

Like, I don’t see a lot of people talking about how you’re still autistic around other autistic people. You still have communication differences and difficulties around other autistic people. Yes sometimes the communication issues are a byproduct of objectively unreasonable societal rules, but other times you just find it difficult to start a conversation. And when the person you want to be friends with also finds it difficult to start a conversation, you might just end up not talking at all. Not being able to show interest (at least in a way other people can perceive or understand) is another example I can think of.

I’ve thought a lot about this lately as I’ve tried getting to know another autistic person and building a friendship with them. I’ve talked to them about, and the feeling seems to be mutual so this doesn’t come from one-sided attempts. Once we actually get going and have a conversation, I feel so comfortable and able to be myself, and I have so much fun. But we rarely get to that point ‘cause we both find it hard to approach the other. When I feel like I want to talk to them, but can’t make myself, and when they haven’t talked to me in a while, I find myself thinking the same things I think when I want to talk to an allistic person: “why can’t I just be normal?”, “why is it so difficult to start a conversation?”, “how am I supposed to react to this?” and so on. And it’s so frustrating because I have so much to say and I know it’s fun to talk to them.

I don’t know how well I articulated myself there, but I just wanted to express my frustration and hopefully prompt other people to discuss this. I don’t want to feel alone in this.

#actually autistic #autism #autistic #autistic experiences #autistic community

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mbti-notes · 3 months

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Anon wrote: Hello, 24M ISTP here hoping to help my 25F INFJ girlfriend, or at least understand her. It’s a persisting problem that’s taking a noticeable toll on her mental health and I’m a little lost on what to do.

We live in the UK, and drinking culture is HUGE here, particularly regarding an almost obsession with pubs. They’re seen as a community hub in a way for a lot of people. I personally only have one or two drinks on special occasions and my girlfriend is teetotal, so neither of us feel the need to go to these places ourselves. The problem, for my girlfriend, is how this interferes with the rest of her social life. She has a lot of online friends, but aside from myself and her sister, she only really hangs out with her work colleagues. Most of these outings involve drinking to an extent.

My girlfriend said herself, several times, that she doesn’t like the pub crowd. It’s not her scene, it’s noisy and cramped a lot of the time and she just finds it boring. Honestly I agree with her. She’s even had some people grilling her about why she doesn’t drink, which obviously won’t help. When it’s just the two of us, we usually go to some sort of cafe, or an actual activity like arcades or museums, because that’s what we both enjoy. Whenever she goes out with her colleagues, though, she comes home miserable and deflated. I suggested offering to go someplace else with them, but she’s apparently asked a few of them around the weekend time and they always say they’re busy.

I’ll see her obsessively scrolling on Reddit or Twitter at sometimes 4AM, looking into why people love drinking/pubs so much and to see if anyone feels the same way that she does. It seems to start this vicious cycle of guilt if she can’t find the answers she wants because she’ll see people praising pubs and what they mean to them. She tells me how she feels like she doesn’t fit in here, and it’s warping her view of the world generally, because so many people love and revolve their leisure time around an activity that she hates. Basically she thinks that there’s something wrong with her.

She’s tried to branch out a little over the last few weeks by taking music classes and volunteering, but she’s really shy and hasn’t formed any friendships so far, which is making her feel even worse. So she falls back into her usual routine of going to places that she hates because people want her to. I take her out to do what she likes as often as I can, but honestly I think there’s a deeper problem at play here.

I asked her if she feels lonely, and she said no. She doesn’t miss the connection of an actual friendship, she actually enjoys having lots of alone time. She told me it comes from a need to feel socially competent, and this does line up with her behaviour. The way she talks, acts, dresses, is all done so she can be perceived a certain way. She wants people to see her as someone that has friends and a fulfilling social life. But like I say to her - she’s not a public figure, she’s not a fictional character. There’s no audience here aside from the people she chooses to be around. Why is she sabotaging herself?

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

Consult the article about Caring for Emotional Needs for tips about how to offer comfort to people in distress. Questions about how to help are always complicated because there are so many factors that could influence the outcome. The most important factors to consider are: 1) how open the person is to receiving help, 2) whether they possess enough inner and outer resources to carry out good advice, and 3) whether your presence has the potential to hinder them. From your description, it is unclear how these factors will play out.

Have you read the study guides and do you understand functional stacks and type development? It sounds like she is having difficulty with auxiliary development and reaching a point of auxiliary resistance, which can potentially trigger a gradual descent into tertiary loop. It is a common issue across all types.

It's possible there's something awry with her intentions. Approaching function development with the wrong intention often leads to negative results. She works very hard, perhaps too hard, to fit in, which indicates Fe overindulgence, but then also claims that she does not need the Fe things she's working for. She claims to want "social competence", which is ostensibly about healthy Fe, but then rejects vital opportunities to develop genuine social competence. Denial and ambivalence are major factors behind why people get stuck in developmental ruts. In essence, people want auxiliary development but also want to avoid the difficulties of it, which can lead them to choose dead ends and overlook viable opportunities.

Yes, it is self-sabotage, but it's important to remember that these "choices" are generally made unconsciously from a deep and dark place of pain, suffering, ignorance, or desperation. Although it might seem irrational to onlookers, it is rational to do what is necessary to alleviate short-term pain, in an effort to regain enough mental capacity to tackle long-term problems. However, when pain cannot be adequately alleviated (usually due to not having learned the right tools for coping), it starts to wreak havoc psychologically.

I often say that the easy path isn't usually the right path when it comes to personal growth. Ideally, she should go through the arduous process of making new friends with people who are better suited to her personal preferences and needs. Branching out is the better choice but also the more difficult choice because it involves facing up to painful truths about herself, i.e., to nakedly expose the shyness and deep insecurities that lie at the heart of the struggle. She has yet to realize that it is precisely through facing up to those vulnerabilities that genuine social competence is eventually achieved.

Since she isn't ready to face up to the real underlying problem, she's leaning on her colleagues at the pub. As you said, pub culture is huge in the UK, so enjoying it would allow one to quickly fit in with a significant swath of the population. However, as huge as pub culture is, there are also huge numbers of people with other interests, but it might be difficult to meet them without making a big change to one's immediate social environment. From my observations, spending too much time with people at work can really limit one's perspective, like putting all your eggs in one basket. I generally don't recommend seeking out personal relationships in the workplace unless you just happen to meet someone you really, really click with.

If she lacks the wherewithal to change her social environment, she might be feeling out of options and that might be why she's trying to force the pub situation, as it helps maintain some illusion of control. The misery she feels as a result is an extremely important warning sign but she's ignoring it, which indicates poor self-care and a need to improve emotional intelligence. Chasing these existing relationships is the golden path of least resistance, but it only seems easy on the surface. In the end, it's also an incredibly difficult path because she must deny herself and sacrifice her integrity for the pretense of fitting in, which basically amounts to self-violence.

In short, both paths are difficult, but only one will lead to proper function development and personal growth. In cases of auxiliary overindulgence, the dominant function doesn't work optimally. Without healthy Ni, it's difficult for her to understand the longer term implications of her choices. All FJs need a strong sense of belonging and community in order to flourish in life. Fe-related needs are legitimate and she must learn to fully embrace them as an integral part of her identity. Ideally, she should be encouraged to fulfill her Fe needs and be offered support as needed/requested. However, though it's hard to watch someone you care for struggle, you can't compel or force them to develop a function when they are not psychologically ready for it. It's something she ultimately has to decide to do on her own, for her own good.

Since her auxiliary function is your inferior function, you are in a dangerous position. You could inadvertently be a negative influence if your inferior Fe distorts her view of auxiliary Fe. It's important that you are mindful about your own relationship to Fe. You have to understand that auxiliary and inferior functions are very different animals that require very different approaches in type development. You should avoid expressing inferior Fe in a way that gives her a convenient excuse to withdraw from auxiliary Fe development entirely. This would be the worst case scenario from the perspective of type development.

#istp #istp relationships #inferior fe #infj #auxiliary fe #helping #ask

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thesecretmansion · 1 year

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Hi! How are you? May I request a James or Sirius blurb (you can pick whichevee one you are in the mood to write for) with a self conscious reader who refuses to accept that James/Sirius likes them as more than a friend? Thanks in advance

“James likes you, you know”

You scoff at Remus’ ridiculous confession.

“Yeah, right. He likes Evans. We’ve been over this”

“You’ve been over this. He quite literally is in love with you” Before you could respond, James plops down at your table in the library. He takes a peak at what you're writing before making a face and moving away.

“James! What a surprise! What on earth are you doing here?” Remus asks. You shoot him a nasty scowl at the tone of his voice but James doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Wanted to see what this one here is up to”, He said smiling fondly at you. Remus gives you a look that clearly says see. You pointedly ignore it.

“Well I’m writing my essay”

“Great, so nothing important”, he ignores your splutter of protest, “I need to talk to you”

“Well I’m busy”

“Not anymore. Sorry Remus”

Remus nods him off with a smile gesturing for the two of you to leave. James all but drags you to a small nook in the library.

“I need to tell you something and I need you to promise me you won’t say anything until I am done” He says, his serious tone catching you off guard. You nod quite hesitantly, scared of what he is about to say.

“I like you. Like really really like you.”

Your jaw drops. He keeps talking but you don’t hear all of it, stuck in a whirlwind of shock.

“No, you don’t”

That catches him off guard.

“Didn’t I say not to talk until I was finished? And yes I do”

“No you don’t”

“How would you know how I feel”

“Because I know you. You are in love with Lily Evans and have been since first fucking year. There is no way in hell that you, James Potter, like someone like me”

“Well I do”, James says stubbornly, “and what on earth do you mean someone like you? You’re bloody perfect”

“No. You know who is bloody perfect? Lily Evans. And I am nothing like her”, you say a sinking feeling in your stomach that is only getting lower.

“Maybe I don’t want someone like her”

You look at him in disbelief.

“I’m not kidding. She is great sure but maybe I don’t want someone who shits on me every 5 seconds”

“You know what James. I need to finish my essay. I do not have time for this right now”, you say turning to leave.

“Wait-”

“No. See you in class”

And with that you leave, thought’s circling your head like a toy train on its tracks.

I am so so so sorry that this took me so long to write. I hope you enjoy this. I didn't really write too much of self-conscious!reader and I tried to imply it more than out right say it. I also had difficulty trying to end this. I hope this is at least somewhat close to what you wanted and I hope you have an amazing day/night!

Also please note that the tone Remus uses when greeting James is the same tone in which Georgia says "Jas, what a surprise, what on earth are you doing here?" from Angus Thongs And Perfect Snogging.

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junosmindpalace · 4 months

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Hi, I read your senku fluffy alphabet and wondered if you could make one with Nanami sai. There is not much content about him. You can ignore the request if it's not to your liking.

a/n: thank you for your request! i haven’t read the manga in a while so my characterization might be a little off…i’m very sorry if i’m missing/forgetting any details!

( A ) AFFECTION — how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?

sai mostly shows his affection through his actions; paying attention to your interests and engaging with them, offering support when doing something, asking how are you, and overall just doing his best to take care of and look after you. he’s not big on physical affection, especially pda, but even though he might initially shy away from it, give him some time, and he’ll probably come to enjoy some of it a fair amount.

if i were to associate him with a love language, it would probably be acts of service. it's just the way i believe he'd want others to care for him, which is why he does the same for you.

( B ) BEST FRIEND — what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?

the friendship would probably start over a mutual interest! especially if you take an interest in his work and hobbies. he may be a little nervous to open up about it, but just push through with enthusiasm and eventually he gets even more passionate than you initially do.

he’s the kind of friend you always go to first to share something with, and vice versa. he’s always dropping by to update you on the things going on in his life and with his hobbies, casually ranting as you go about your day. it’s the same with you. he’s also a very dependable friend who’s willingly to do pretty much anything with or for you with a bit of persuading. the type to always come through with favours, or help you work through difficulties in your own day to day tasks.

especially since he can be a pretty nervous person, having another like-minded friend in situations that make you feel the same way helps alleviate that pressure and make you feel less alone, helping you shoulder that weight.

( C ) CUDDLES — do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?

i don’t think he adores it—i think he values his space, especially if he’s trying to do something like rest, and having someone get into his bubble would stress him out—but he isn’t entirely opposed to it. he’s a little shy about it, having zero clue where to place his hands or legs at first, but with some experience, he doesn’t fight back when you suddenly collapse against him, wrapping an arm around your waist or behind your head, ever so slightly securing you closer against him.

( D ) DOMESTIC — do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?

the idea of it both makes him giddy and stresses him out. it just seems like such a large responsibility, such a big step in your relationship! pretty much a bit into your dating he’s figured he’d spend the rest of his life with you, so no problems from him there. i'm stereotyping a little with this, but i believe he isn’t the best at chores, especially cooking, probably accustomed to his meals being prepped by someone else or mostly having take out in india, and considering the organized mess he has in his office when he works, it’s safe to say he probably has a little habit of leaving things messy as well.

( E ) ENDING — if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

it really depends on the circumstance. i think typically, if sai had felt it was long time coming, he’d plan for a while how to break the news gently, but firmly. he’d very obviously plan to do it privately, and would probably initially start off nervous before he kind of gives you a speech of sorts explaining why the relationship needs to end. it’s obviously hurtful, but you can see that he genuinely does his best to minimize the pain that might come out of it. in a much harsher case, he might just blurt it out at one point, again, nervous (and horrified by his straightforwardness), but in the same way firm in giving you an explanation at the very least.

( F ) FIANCÉ — how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?

like a lot of the initial relationship stuff, and similarly to settling down, i think the idea of commitment makes him a little nervous just because of how much its emphasised on being life-changing and a little stressful. but at the same time, he finds its something he really wouldn’t mind if it was with the right person, maybe even finding it quite romantic. he’s definitely not the type to rush into marriage by any means, but if he truly finds himself wholeheartedly in love and comfortable with his partner, he’d probably even like the idea of spending the rest of his life with them.

( G ) GENTLE — how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

i think, both physically and emotionally, he’s very gentle, and in ways i think it’s because it’s how he wishes for himself to be treated. he often had to put up with the demands of his family and ryusui’s larger than life desires, so he didn’t get very much of that. so of course, he’s going to treat you in the same way he’s always wanted to be treated, because he understands how unpleasant it can be to come off sort of harsh or insensitive, even if there isn't any malicious intent behind it.

( H ) HUGS — do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?

he’s mostly a casual hugger if he ever does, like side hugs where he brings you close to his side and rubs a hand up and down your arm. he’s not big on it, but he does do it sometimes, especially if he sees you’re down about something. you’d probably have to be the one to initiate a lot of them, especially the more emotional, full on wrapping yourselves around one another kind of hugs, because they fluster him a little at first. you can notice in the way he relaxes with experience that he melts into it quick.

( I ) I LOVE YOU — how fast do they say the L-word?

probably a while. again, he’s stressed over when is the appropriate time to say the word, if what he actually feels for you is love, so he overthinks it big time. if you’re the type to say it early, i feel he wouldn’t immediately respond the same way back. he’d have to think on it, again, like a lot of things initially, is maybe is a little nervous. but if the two of you had been together for a while and you confess to it first, he’ll most likely say it back. in both cases, however, you would have to say it first.

( J ) JEALOUSY — how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?

perhaps becomes a little jealous when you agree with someone he disagrees with, or doesn’t like in general. despite his overall shyness in your relationship, i don’t think it’s even so intense that it gets to a point where he’ll melt down over the possibility of someone stealing you away from him when he feels jealous. i think generally it’s just an irritation, possibly insecure thing that’s sort of fleeting. it’s just that he wants to be the one to be on the same page as you, not somebody else, especially not someone he dislikes.

he fights you a little when he gets jealous in this way and you point it out, but not a real full out fight. more so those comedic types where he gets outwardly irritated over something seemingly trivial and it makes you laugh. typically though, a little bit of coaxing with reassuring words and kisses are enough to get him to break his “jealous” state.

( K ) KISSES — what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?

most of the time they’re shy but sweet, no matter how much time passes in your relationship. they’re not too quick no matter where he kisses you, always lingering on your lips or temple or cheek for just a brief moment longer before pulling away; it’s what makes his kisses so endearing.

his favorite place to kiss you would probably be somewhere you can’t directly see his face, like the crown of your head or behind your neck when he rests his head in the crook of your neck, just to take a little bit of the pressure off. i think he would like to be kissed in similar spots for the same reason, just so you can’t see the way he gets flustered or cheesy and starstruck over it. especially if you tease him for it, he gets all defensive.

( L ) LITTLE ONES — how are they around children?

nervous as hell. he is terrified they won’t like him, might make fun of him, or torment him. he’s also afraid he might do something to accidentally hurt them, whether physically or offend them by some means. but when he gets familiar with them and show him they aren’t so bad, he relaxes and finds them endearing, eagerly joining in whatever antics they get up to (which they take full advantage of, and exhaust his energy).

( M ) MORNING — how are mornings spent with them?

i think they’re fairly productive. probably not the type to lounge around in bed, especially as a professor, even on his off days, so the both of you are doing one thing or another, either separate things in each other’s company, or the same thing together.

you don’t always jump straight into the days endeavours, however. sometimes morning productivity is just cleaning up a little and having a nice breakfast together, whether you decide to cook together or go out someplace nice (the latter typically tends to be the case since, again, he's not the best cook). either way, he can be a nice alarm for you, and help you establish a more productive routine if you don’t have one yourself when you start dating.

( N ) NIGHT — how are nights spent with them?

similarly to mornings, i think they’re also quite productive. he won’t rope you into any of his evening activities if you don’t want to, however, and it’s typically the evening that sai spends catching up on work he needs to do or planning what he needs to tend to the next day independently. i don’t think he minds too much if you were join him, finding you pleasant company, especially if, similar to the mornings, you just work on your own things independently while in each other’s presence. he finds it a good way to wind down.

( O ) OPEN — when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly.

everything at once guy, i strongly believe this, even without the evidence from the manga. he withholds and withholds and sort of lets it fester until something literally forces him out of his shell or something triggers a snap in his brain that has him tumbling it all out. not just the things about himself, but all the emotions he harbours toward those things, and it also tells you how passionately he feels about said things.

( P ) PATIENCE — how easily angered are they?

to strangers he doesn’t know very well, he’s mostly nervous, but if it’s people he is familiar with, like his brother, he’s more prone to getting irritated with them faster. with you, however, it goes back and forth between a mix of both. as he’s sort of a naturally nervous person, those insecurities he feels toward himself and his own feelings of inadequacy can be projected through irritation onto you. he’s rarely the type to get viscerally angry with you, however. it’s mostly just frustration, with an outburst being pretty rare.

( Q ) QUIZZES — how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?

even though he has an insane memory and knack for keeping up with multiple, lengthy, complicated streams of thoughts, he is terrible when it comes to memorizing small details about you. it’s not because hes incapable of it or because he doesn’t pay attention to you, but because he self sabotages. truly, he does know all the small details, but his anxiety casts doubt on his knowledge, and he overthinks them. so then he just ends up confusing himself and all together jumbling up info. he gets it down most of the time, though. he just needs to calm himself down.

( R ) REMEMBER — what is their favourite moment in your relationship?

when you dropped by his lecture room late after the work day had ended and way past his teaching time. some time into the night, he had started attempting to teach you his lessons after you examined them over your shoulder from his desk. you sat in a front row seat as sai wrote formulas and calculations on the whiteboard, the two of you laughing as your questions and answers became increasingly absurd as you tried to wrap your head around what has always come so naturally to him.

in the end however, you managed to grasp onto a couple of the key ideas he explained, which excited him greatly, and led to you playfully complimenting what an excellent professor you had, and how you were ready to take him home. it was an unexpectedly fun evening, and he still sometimes chuckles thinking about it when he finds himself staying overtime alone in the classroom.

( S ) SECURITY — how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?

he's probably fairly protective. he protects you by standing up for you, voicing when he feels that you’re uncomfortable with something or does his best to remove you from any frustrating or nerve wrecking situations. i've said before that he’d like to be protected in the same way, and it’s why he does it for you. he’s always wanted to speak up against his brothers eccentric attitude and people using him for their own gains, but struggled to find the words or courage, so to have someone there to step in and back him up, give him a voice, means so much.

( T ) TRY — how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

too much /j. but really, again, he overthinks. he goes through what he things you’d enjoy most, what would be the most appropriate depending on the circumstance, thinking back as to if he’s already given you similar gifts or if he’s taken you on similar dates. he’s pulling alll the stops to make everything feel special. the same goes with everyday tasks, but there’s less pressure on him especially when he grows accustomed to the nature of your relationship, so it’s not as meticulous, but it’s still thoughtful.

( U ) UGLY — what would be some bad habits of theirs?

his anxiety. not only does his own constant stress about things sometimes rub off, but it also makes him defensive sometimes. there’s varying levels to it, but when it’s at its worst, to the point where he’s completely convinced someone is out to get him or is being unreasonable, it’s hard to properly talk to him until he’s calmed down.

( V ) VANITY — how concerned are they with their looks?

just enough to come off as presentable. it’s not the first or second or third thing on his list of things to stress over. perhaps a byproduct of his upbringing, self maintenance and presentability come sort of naturally to him, but that doesn’t mean he has his miss days or typically grieves over looking a certain way unless its completely ridiculous or someone ridicules him for it. even then, he probably wouldn’t put too much effort into changing it.

( W ) WHOLE — would they feel incomplete without you?

while he would like to be around you as much as possible if he can help it, i don’t think he’d necessarily feel incomplete if he didn’t have you by his side. he has his own passions and life he’s created for himself, for the most part pretty independently from the rest of his family, so that sort of gives puts into perspective how well he manages on his own. that said, he does feel more content and at peace with himself and others with you in his life, and would probably be unable to replicate that same sense of comfort with anything or anyone else.

( X ) XTRA — a random headcanon for them!

sort of based off an observation written in the wiki, but sai is a pretty habitual person. he doesn’t go overboard with it, but he’s pretty unconsciously routinely and somewhat predictable. he doesn’t like to stray too off schedule if he has one and if he can help it, and has things that, while they may not have a specific time slot in which he’s to do them, has repetitive things he does, like visit a cafe he likes or spend time in a classroom simply working, or devoting some of his time to a specific task.

( Y ) YUCK — what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

already has been clearly stated in the manga, but doesn’t like when he’s used for someone else’s ends. if you solely take an interest in him due to his work and show little to no interest to actually get to know him or do something with him, he’s off put and irritated. just generally being exploited is off putting (as it would be for anyone) and hard to redeem yourself from.

( Z ) ZZZ — what are their sleep habits?

i can see him as both a very neat but also very wild sleeper; perhaps switching back and forth. some nights he sleeps peacefully, blanket casually thrown around his back as his chest rises up and down rhythmically, gently and free of errancies…and then other times he’s star-fishing with his mouth open and the blanket haphazardly splayed over him. good luck being anywhere near him when he’s like this (though i feel subconsciously, he might retreat into himself a bit more if he were to be sharing a sleeping space, but once he gets extremely comfortable, he allows himself to let loose).

see the masterlist for my dr stone works here. <3

#three requests in a row?! this is impressive for me #i've gotten a couple people asking for sai content #so here's this!#dr stone x reader #dr stone fluff #dr stone oneshot #dcst fluff #dcst x reader #dcst oneshot #sai nanami x reader #sai nanami fluff #sai nanami oneshot #nanami sai x reder #nanami sai fluff #nanami sai oneshot

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