#I can tell them all apart really easy though

[cheekyowldraws]

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Main plot: Murdock, Friede Minor part: Rockruff, Mollie, Orla, Ludlow Mentioned: Katy, Liko, Dot, Roy, Blanca

Ships: FriedexMurdock also called Capncrunchshipping or Airfryshipping

Summary:

The story plays right after the fight against BlackRayquaza and before the Trio offically start their training at the Orange academy.

Murdock seems to work in Katys bakery and logically should stay in this town during that time. So I wanted to explore his feelings about being away from everyone, especially Friede and how they spend their last night together before being apart for a while. Lots of emotions, kisses and a little suggestive part at the end <3

Three days have passed since the big fight against BlackRayquaza, were the Brave Asagi got heavely damaged. It is heartbreaking to see their home being in this terrible state, but luckily nobody was injured during this incident and that's the most important thing. The ship can be fixed after all...even if it might take a while until they can go back to what they are used to...until the ship is filled with chaos and laughter again instead of silence and working noises. For the time being Liko went back to her parents house and Dot and Roy were able to stay at Blancas place until they can officially start with their Terastal training at the Orange academy. Only the adults stayed at the ship for now, but as soon as Orla officially begins with the repair they gonna have to stay at a hotel to not be in her way.

Murdock was sitting in his room heaving out a big sigh. He was glad that at least the kids could stay at a more positive environment right now. Seeing the damaged ship everyday just would make them relive this scary experience over and over again. Or that what he is believing anyways, knowing that he himslef is still struggeling with getting that disaster out of his head. He kept a brave face in front of the children, but in reality the cook was as scared as them, not knowing what happens next. Can the ship really be fixed completely? What are they gonna do if it's not possible? Will this the be end end of the RVTs? The cook couldn't help himself but worrying about these questions. Friede seems more faithful then him or at least knows how to overplay such thoughts. "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" Murdock scolded himself while he slapped his own hands against his cheeks, squeezing them with a slight agression. "You are not a child anymore, so don't act like one!" Murdock remaind in this position for a while before he loosened his grip, letting out another deep sigh.

The chef inhaled and exhaled sharly several times to calm his nerves. There is no time to feel scared. He knows exactly what he has to do. In fact everyone knew repairing the ship wont be an easy task and will keep Orla busy. But for the mechanic to even being able to start with this endeavor, she needs materials and that in turn means they need money. Lots of money. So Murdock already decided what he personally can do to help. After all working hard is something he can do best.

A small smile formed on his lips while he looked at his phone. Only yesterday he mailed an application adressed to Katy's bakery in Cortondo, hopeing she gonna accept him and allow the pastry chef to work there until the ship is as good as new. To Murdocks surprise she personally called him back this moring to tell him he's hired. Needless to say that the chef almost dropped his phone, because he was so nervouse and honestly didn't expect such a fast answer, let alone a positive one. And on top of that he was told he can already start working in five days. Though the cook needs to leave a day earlier to get the keys for the small room he rented near the bakery, right after this hopeful phonecall earlier.

His smile fastly shifted to a more sad one. Working there means he need to leave for a while and live in that town...thinking about that fact alone made him feel wistful. Murdock don't even wanna think about getting seperated from everyone for an extended period of time that he cannot yet grasp. Especially being apart from Friede fills his thoughts with horror. Having him around all the time feels so natural and became part of his daily life. Being able to go to the other man whenever he wants, just to hang out or when he feels overwhelmed or just needs a safe place. Simply just having him by his side, to feel his touch, his warmth. Before Murdock completly got comsumed by his fear he felt something cautiously licking his hand. The cook was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't noticed his puppy climbed on his lap. Rockruff knew somethings was wrong and visible was worried about it's dad. "Sorry I didn't wanted to worry you." Murdock automatically wore a soft smile and gently patted his puppies head before he lifted it up to pepper it with kisses. Cuddeling with his little angel certainly helped to ground him and let him tackle this decision rationally. The chef knew that he had to tell Friede at some point, but he also didn't want his boyfriend to start brooding about this and having to go through all those feelings for days now as a result just like him...one suffering is enough. Murdock settled to only tell Mollie, Orla and Ludlow about his plans for now.

As expected the two woman appreciated his plans but side-eyed him when he pleaded them to not say a word to Friede about that. Nointhenless they gladly did respect his wish who he was very thankfull for. From this point on Murdock tried to tell Friede as well several times. When they were shopping together, when Friede was keeping him company while cooking, when they went for a walk...he tried to tell him...he really tried but everytime he chickened out the last second and brushed it off, finding a silly excuse for his strange behaviour. There was no way that the professor didn't started to get sceptical.

And before Murdock knew it the day before his departure had arrived. It already was dinner time to be exact. The chef was spending most of the day in the kitchen to make everyones fave meals. He just had too, because he doesn't know when he will be able to cook for them again. Murdock could feel tears filling up his eyes, but hastely blinked them away, before he served it all up. "Hope you all are hungry, because I made plenty!" the chef voiced with a bright smile while watching everyone slowly gathering around the table.

"That smells great!" Friede took in the scent a bit more before sitting down and filling up his plate. Orla and Mollie digged into the food as well. Ludlow on the other hand just silently watched the scene for now, sipping his tea, observing, already knowing something gonna happen. And he didn't have to wait long. "So delicious! I gonna miss Murdocks food!" Orla spouted out, mouth full. "ORLA!" Mollie promptly scolded her, but the brown-haired woman didn't realized what she just said. Murdock on the other hand froze in place, wanting to run away. "Please don't let Friede have heard that!" the cook was pleading in his mind. But the white-haired man DID hear and now looked at Orla with a very confused look on his face, swallowing down his food before asking "Hmm? What do you mean you gonna miss his food?" Realisation hit Orlas brain like a thunder bolt. She didn't meant to say that and tried to hastly come up with an excuse. "Ah that...well I mean when we start staying at the hotel he won't be able to cook there right?" Orla cleared up while slightly laughing awkwardly. "Right Murdock?" she then added hoping he gonna help covering her white lie but to everyones surprise his seat was empty. The tall man must have taken the oppertunity to leave while all eyes were on the mechanic. Friede felt like a fool and was visably confused. The professor hated when he didn't know what was happening and didn't realized how his face got very serious. "What is this all about?" he now asked with a slighty annoyed sound in his voice. The damage was already done so there was no reason to keep up this farce. "We promised Murdock to not tell you, I don't know why he asked for that though, so it might be better to ask him yourself." Mollie finally explained. The conference room was now overshadowed by a negative vibe.

"Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows." Ludlow spoke with a calm and encouraging voice, breaking the uncomforteable silence that had settle over the group. Friede stared at his gramps for a moment before his eyes wandered back to his plate of food. His face slowly shifted into a sad but also concerened and betrayed expression. What did Murdock felt comforteable enough to tell literally everyone but him? He needed to know but...if he haven't told him yet why should he tell him now? Friede suddenly started to heavily shake his head, trying to get rid of those unwanted thoughts. With his eyes now filled with determination, the professor promptly finished his fill and then headed to the kitchen, were he was sure to find his 'target'. Ludlow was smiling as he saw the young man leaving the room ready to clear things up. When Friede entered the kitchen Murdock was busy washing the dishes not daring to look at the smaller man. The professor didn't knew how to start the conversation, he wants to know what the chef is hiding from him, but he also doesn't want to pressure him either. The white-haired man is certain that the cook must have a reason why he haven't told him yet, so he tries to approach the subject slowly. "That was delicious as always. I'm full!" Friede praised, putting on a smile. It wasn't a fake smile though, he meant what he said. Murdocks food is always the tastiest, still he felt more like crying right now. The taller man was taken abakt by that, because he was sure Friede straight up gonna confront him and ask him questions. "I'm glad to hear that. It means a lot to me. Thank you." the cook looked at Friede for a short moment to return the smile, before focusing at the dishes again. An awkward silence filled the whole kitchen. The only sound left was the suttle cliring of the table ware Murdock kept cleaning.

With every minute passing the chef started to get more nervouse. "That's your last proper chance to tell him you idiot!" Murdock started to scold himself in his thoughts. "COME ONE JUST TELL HIM YOU COWARD!" his thoughts went further and the cook got so angry at himself, that he abruptly stopped in his tracks, starteling Friede a little. Murdock was snapped back to reality by a gently touch on his shoulder. It was Friede who now was giving him a worried but warm glance. The cook took a deep breath and slowly let out the air again.

"I'm gonna leave tomorrow to work at Katy's bakery in Cortondo and wont be back for a while. We need that money or Orla can't fix the ship so it's unavoideable." Murdock started to explain, pausing for a moment to inhale deeply before continuing. "I wanted to tell you earlier, but the more I tried the more I couldn't bring myself too..." his voice now started to tremble "If..." he had to clear his throat before being able to continue. "If I had told you four days ago, you surley couldn't have helped but brood about me leaving all these days...and I didn't want you to go through the same thoughts that kept haunting me over and over again...I gonna miss you ya know?" the cook couldn't hold his tears back anymore and started to sob bitterly. "I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you until now I'm..." before he could speak any further he was pulled into a tight hug, while a hand gently caressed his back. "You idiot..." the small man said with a shaky voice himself. "You choose to keep all this feelings to yourself because you didn't wanted to make me suffer but..." Friede now had teary eyes as well "But imagine how you must have felt all those days, being all alone with those thoughts...that's what breaks my heart!"

"I'm so sorry...i didn't mean to hurt your feelings...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Murdock's voice softened as he continued to apologize, hugging Friede even tighter, but gentle enough so the smaller man could still breath properly. "Shhh it's okay I'm not mad at you." The smaller man kept stroking Murdocks back in gentle and firm circles to calm him down. This went on for quite a while until Friede felt that the other mans sobbing eased. He then proceed to sat down Murdock on the small wooden stool, who was busy wiping away his tears and was still softly sobbing.

"I want to apologize myself...No I need to apologize to you!" the white-haird man stated while he rubbed the back of his head. Murdock just looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for Friede to continue. "The words gramps said to me before had me thinking. I mean you did act a bit strange all of a sudden, but I refused to question it any further believing you surley gonna tell me if somethings the matter and..." "So you did notice..." Murdocks eyes wandered to the side in embarressment. Friede had to giggle at that sight. "Are you kidding me? When we went for a walk yesterday you literally kept staring at me with such an intense look , that you ended up running into a street lamp!" Friede now started to chuckle. "You should have seen your face!" and with that he bursted out into laughter. "STOP LAUGHING THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" Murdock tried to complain, but the moment he saw Friedes genuin smile while laughing like crazy he couldn't help himslef but join, laughing away all their worries. A few minutes passed and they now were sitting on the floor, right next to each other, tummies still hurting from their laughing fit. "Guess we are both idiots!" the cook stated while beaming a smile at Friede who returned the favour agreeing with a cheerfull "Yeah!"

And without a warning Friede was leaning in for a passionate kiss, making the tall man shudder in surprise. As soon as their lips touched Murdock literally melted into this sensation. The cook gently layed his hands around the other mans arms to pull him even closer. Both of them let themselve fully taken in by this moment, there hearts are pounding in synch, hoping this pleasent feeling would never fade. They tried to delay the unavoideable, but unfortunatly they had to break the kiss at some point to breath again. Now staring into each others eyes with such warmth.

"Soooo we can either have some fun now or just cuddle all night." Friede now looked at Murdock with playful eyes and a cheeky smile. The cook just looked at him with wide eyes, cheeks still rosy. He tightened his grip a little, his eyes nervousely flickering back and forth from looking into Friedes eyes to staring into the void. Friede just amusingly watched his future husband getting all flustered, while waiting for an answer. "Wh-Why not both?" the cook finally managed to declare, taking the professor by surprise, not that he is complaining though. He kinda was hoping for that outcome, because he wants both of them to enjoy this night to the fullest. "Never thought you can get greedy." the smaller man sassily returned, while purposly coming closer to Murdock's face who then started to pout a little "So what if I'm a little greedy?" the chef playfully growled back. "Nothing wrong with that." Friede assured while trying to kiss Murdock again. The emphasis is on 'trying' because his attempt got stopped by a big hand gently pressing against his lips. "W-Wait! N-not here!! Besides I need to clean the kitchen first and..." the cook got cut off mid-sentence by Friedes lips sealing his once again. It was only a short lived kiss this time meant to stop Murdock from blabbering nonsens. Friede now was looking into Murdocks eyes dead serious. "As if I would let you do the chores right now, the dishes won't run away, I gonna deal with them tomorrow." the yellow-eyed man explained. "But...!" Murdock tried to argue, but this time it was Friede pressing his hand against the cooks lips. "No buts! I already let the others know so don't worry!" the professor replied with a snippish grin while holding up his phone to show Murdock that he in fact send a message.

»Just put your dishes in the kitchen later. I'll deal with them tomorrow. I have to take care of Murdock tonight <3«

"T-Taking ca-care of me?" Murdocks cheeks turned into an even more intense pink admitting his defeat "G-Guess I have no choice then!" he stutterd softly. Pleased to hear that, Friede then purposely placed his hand on Murdocks crotch, making the cook jump at the sudden touch. His whole head turned into a bright red now and before the professor could make his next move he got lifted up by Murdock, bridal style. The cook now was dashing into his room, while gently carrying the smaller man in his arms, locking the door behind him before he allowed himself to be all over Friede.

At the same time in the kitchen:

"Guess we better sleep with our ear plugs in tonight." Mollie said after she read Friede's message while looking at Orla, who visibly was relieved about this outcome. With their minds at peace the two woman continued eating. Ludlow did join them as well now and was seemingly happy.

The next morning:

Friede and Murdock layed in bed cuddeling together. The smaller man was resting his head againsts the cooks chest, while the taller man wrapped his arms around him. Both were snoozing softly, enjoying this harmonic atmospehere until Murdocks alarm rang. The chef turned it off as fast as he could so Friede not gonna get waken up from it. He had to blink his eyes open several times before his vision was clear and he could see Friedes peaceful face, thankfully still sleeping. The cook decided it won't hurt to stay in bed for five more minutes, before he cautiously climbed out to not wake up the other man. He didn't want too, but he needed to leave soon so he had to dress up and get ready. When he came back from the bathroom he found Friede right were he left him and couldn't hold back a smile. He looked cute when he was peacefully sleeping. Murdock than hastly pulled out his phone to snap a shot he can look at whenever he misses Friede. Not that he already has a full album full of that. Happy with the result he now was thinking about waking the professor up to properly say goodbye for now. But wouldn't that be selfish? To tear him from his sleep just to catch another kiss? As Murdock was mostly silently debating with himself to either wake up the other man or not he suddenly got hugged from behind. The smaller man tightly wrapped his arms around him. "Good morning!" Friede muttered while letting out a big yawn. "G-Good Morning Friede. Did I wake you up?" the cook replied. "Nah I was already awake before you climed out of bed, but I wanted to let you get ready in peace." The white-haired man explained while he released the hug trying to catch a glimpse of Murdock's cell phone "Sooo did you get a nice shot?" Friede asked with a cheeky voice resulting in a high pitched scream leaving the cooks mouth, while the latter tried to hide his phone. But that just made Friede even more curious, now wearing a big grin on his face "I know you made a photo of me while I was supposetly asleep." Murdock was now trying to hide his blushing face behind his phone. "M-Ma-Maybe!" he managed to stutter out. "Good thing I also got a cute shot from you." the smaller man joyfully chirped. A small chuckle left the professors mouth when he saw the chef getting all flustered. Friede then took his chance to pull his boyfriend into a kiss, which immediately made the bigger man calmer. Both closed their eyes and enjoyed this delicate moment. Taking in every second, burning this feeling into their brains. They whined a little when they had to part, but they knew it was now time for Murdock to go. " Don't overwork yourself okay?" Friede wanted to make sure and with a "Don't be too reckless okay?" and a warm smile Murdock then left for his new temporary job.

#pokemon horizons #Professor Friede #Murdock (Pokemon) #Rockruff #pokemon #Pokeani #Friede (Pokemon) #Friede/Murdock #capncrunchshipping #Murdock pokemon #mollie (pokemon) #orla (pokemon) #ludlow pokemon #cheekyOWL writes stuff

[snekdood]

You fucking idiots dont fucking get it. ive been taking care of plants since i was 14. Ive tried FUCKING EVERYTHING. Fungus gnats are just apparently gonna exist around me no matter what i do or try, apparently just like these yerfs who also seem to be breeding like maggots.

#please! non plant experts stfu forever. #please! if you dont take care of a grden or live by a heavily wooded areas and dont have any plants inside too that arent succs- #shut the fuck up forever!! #whatever you're about to suggest! ive fucking tried it!!! #but of course. like the yerfs you are you cant ever take me at my word for my own experiences. its always that yall know whats right always #and never that im actually fucking correct about the shit i talk about. like maybe its just really fucking hard to control their population #did you ever consider that sometimes you have to make sacrifices if you want to take care of something like plants? i have to wake up at 6 #in the morning now JUST to keep the squirrels scared away from my planters. bc if i sleep in at all i risk letting my plants die bc of #their bs. unfortunately theres just shit that comes with plants that you have to decide whether or not your love for plants is greater than #whatever bs you might encounter while you take care of them. and unfortunately one of those sacrifices is having to deal with fungus gnats #and bugs in general. yall think its so easy to control bugs in my apartment. im poor. nothing is sealed here. #i had a fucking mosquito infestation. how does that even happen? i dont fucking know! but it did. #ive had a meal moth infestation. how did they get in? they were breeding in a little bag of old food i had for my hermit crabs. #how did they get in and somehow get to that bag all the way in my room? WHO FUCKIN KNOWS! I SUSPECT THOUGH ITS BC IM FUCKIN POOR #AND THIS SHIT AINT SEALED IN HERE WELL ENOUGH. i have bug problems all the time. #and you're gonna tell me its just suddenly so easy to get rid of gnats. #this is why ik none of yall *actually* take care of plants. like actually truly. outside of what. your succulents and the one palm you have #im really happy that you have plants you can deprive of water for a few days but i have marsh plants! i have swamp plants! I CANT deprive #them of moisture acrually! so its really not that fucking easy to get eid of the fucking gnats! i feel like i should have to fucking #explain this. if you actually took care of plants forreal forreal you would know they are just not fucking easy to get rid of. #but naw. im trans. so that means i never know what im talking about about anything or whatever and yall gotta act paternalistic about #everything i do. meanwhile im sitting over here ripping out my hair about how dumb and juvenile YALL are bc ik for a gotdamn fact if any of #yall ugly fucks ACTUALLY took care of plants outside of the ornamental ones you have this wouldnt be a discussion. #but naw ya saw a jokey post of mine about how i felt defeated in my ability to get rid of the gnats and decided i wasnt actually trying #bc for some reason yall gotta assume that no trans person actually just knows wtf theyre talking about literally on anything. #anyways i hope yall get plagued by gnats forever and all your planrs die from them devouring the roots. #its like yall are new souls coming in acting like you're an old soul and im the actual old soul tryna tell you what it is but yall are just #*so convinced* you're right because everyone says im the crazy old man on the corner so that means i dont know anything or some #dumb reasoning like that. like idk maybe this old man has seen some shit and knows some shit but sure im sure yall little asses know wrf #ur talking about. totally.

[princessbellecerise]

Snow With A Bimbo Reader

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Coryo loves how dumb you are. It makes him look even smarter

warnings | toxic!coryo, dumb!reader, slight innocent!reader, smut, slight housewife!reader

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

When he first met you at the academy, it was safe to say that from the moment he saw you, Snow was obsessed

You weren’t in the same class as him, though there was really no reason you ought to be because you were not nearly as smart as the other students, but he still noticed you in some classes

Coryo figured that your parents must have bought your way in, because bless your heart you are so dumb

When he first meets you, it’s almost pitiful how he notices that you’re nowhere near his academic level, but that’s okay because you sure are pretty

And despite being insanely attracted to power and intelligence, Coryo finds himself focusing all his attention on you

He can’t think of anything else in class other than the way your pretty little face scrunches up because you’re not understanding any of it, or the way your lips pout because you’re beyond lost

You’re just so beautifully stupid and cute and Coryo can’t stop thinking about how he can’t wait to get his claws into you

So at first he starts by tutoring you as way to get closer to you

God knows that you need it, and when he offers of course you accept because hello—everyone knows that Snow is on top

So, he begins to tutor you, and that’s all it is at first

A few flirty remarks here and there, like him telling you your hair looks pretty or your outfit fits you nice

Nothing too crazy, but the more time Coryo spends with you, the more you drive him insane

He has amazing self control because even though he wants to do nothing but grab you and kiss you the entire time you’re talking, he holds himself back

He takes it slow as to not scare you or confuse your dumb little mind. After all, you can only process so much

Which is why he doesn’t actually tutor you—not the hard stuff anyways. He just finds little easy thing for you to accomplish so he can watch as your face lights up when you solve something he’s done a million times before

He builds you up before he plans on breaking you down, before he plans on molding you into his perfect partner

Coryo will gain your trust at first and only when he’s got it will he strike

Like a snake, you don’t even see his plan or see him coming until he’s right there in front of you, poisoning you with his sweet lips and kissing you one day

It comes so sudden for you that you’re shocked, not even kissing him back till he’s squeezing your jaw a little so you let him in

He’ll kiss you deeply so that you can feel what he feels for you, so that you know just how desperately he wants you

Through his lips, he’ll spread his venom, and since you’re not smart enough to even know that you’ve been bit, you fall for it easily

You kiss him back, and your giggles when you pull away make Coryo smirk. He loves seeing you nervous around him and fuck; does he love tasting your pretty lips

Once you start agree to start dating him, it’s already too late for you. And for Coryo, it’s just the beginning

Coryo already has plans that you’re not apart of, but he’s excited to carry them out because you are everything that he needs

He needs someone that won’t question him, that will obey him and do everything he says. He needs to be in charge and with you, he is

Like a good little girl, you do everything Coryo tells you to do. Miss class for him, sit on his lap, stop doing your assignments

Pretty soon, he’s got it to where all you do is hang out with him. Make plans with him. Do things for him

He’s got you wrapped around his finger and you don’t even know it. You’re just so happy with him that you don’t even question it when he tells you to quit

“Leave the academy and I’ll take care of you. I promise,” Is what Coryo says, so you do

You stop attending class, you drop out and slowly you move from your home to be with Coryo in his

It’s a little packed, but you make it work especially with Tigris and his grandmother

They both adore you, though Tigris is a little concerned with you dropping out. She’ll try and persuade you to continue your education but don’t worry—Coryo will never let that happen

When you tell him Tigris’ words, he simply scoffs and tells you that pretty girls like you don’t belong in academics. You don’t belong in that terrible, toxic work force

No, no, you deserve to stay home and to serve him. An easy job, he convinces you, and a soft life

“It’s what you deserve,” He tells you, so you give up on the idea of returning

Instead, you stay at home and wait for Coryo day and night. During the days, you’ll cook, clean and during the nights you’ll be there for him

In the privacy of your now shared bedroom is where he fucks you, the mattress squeaking from how hard he pounds into your tight cunt

Coryo loves it when you whine and beg, crying out how he’s too big for you

He loves to hear you praise him and for you to stroke his ego. With a hand wrapped around your throat, he’ll fuck you until you’re screaming his name into the mattress and until you realize that you belong to him

The love bites and marks he leaves on your thighs are a constant reminder. He tells you that you should be lucky, grateful that you don’t have to use your head anymore

Grateful to have someone like him to take care of you, and you are. Coryo gives you a life that people can only dream about

Once he becomes President of Panem, you’re spoiled with riches that you didn’t even know existed. Diamonds, silks, luxurious foods

And the best part is, all you have to do is smile and wave. After all, you are his best asset

#tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader

[peppermint-toads]

you were so sick and tired of being pregnant. you were always so hot, tired, sore.

your due date was three days ago. you were moping and miserable. your ob didn’t want to induce for whatever fucking reason. you begged her to tell you what you could do to get this fucking baby out of you already.

her suggestion took really surprised you.

simon made sure to always be at all of your appointments, even if you assured him that some of them were complete wastes of time.

you were just so, so glad he couldn’t make it to this one because your ob had essentially suggested you go home and get boned.

you never had to expressly ask simon to fuck you. never. he just knew or he was the one to initiate it.

your face was already red as you walked into your apartment. simon was in the kitchen starting dinner (bless him).

“thought i’d make something spicy. get things moving along, you know.”

you would’ve smiled at the thought of him researching foods that induced labor if you weren’t so worked up.

you set your keys and purse down.

“how was the appointment, love? sorry i couldn’t make it this go ‘round.”

again, your heart melted at how soft of a person simon managed to become.

“um, actually, simon—”

he halted immediately, rounding the kitchen island to place a hand on your stomach.

“what? is everything okay?”

god you can do this. deep breath.

“my ob said that, to help the baby, we should uhm. y’know.”

your gaze subconsciously drifted down towards the bulge in his pants that was there even though he was soft.

you looked back up at him and could see that it hadn’t clicked. you sighed again.

“she said if we fuck the baby might come sooner.”

it was simon’s turn to nearly choke. he nodded, slightly shocked by your bluntness. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing you squirm as you forced yourself to blurt it out.

“okay,” he said decidedly. easy peasy. “if she suggested it, that means it’s safe, right?”

you nodded.

and that was that. he had you naked and rolling your hips on top of him within ten minutes. he helped you grind on his length just right, not worried about his pleasure at all.

your cheeks were all rosy and one of simon’s hands stayed firmly planted on your soft bump.

he made damn sure you came at least three times around him.

“that’s it, mama, such a good girl for me. you’re gonna have my baby, yeah? want me to get you pregnant all over again?”

you felt so loose and warm as he corralled you into the shower, making sure you were nice and clean before he wrapped you in your fuzzy robe and plopped you on the couch.

“curry will be done soon. hope you’re hungry.”

you went into labor the next morning.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader

[tgirlwithreverb]

I saw that post about what to do if you're homeless again (the one that starts by telling you to spend all of your money on motel rooms lmao) anyway, here's a few thoughts, specifically for trans girls, cuz I don't really care otherwise tbh:

1) plan ahead, most trans girls are in precarious housing situations, you will have a much easier time when it falls apart if you already have a pack with most of the gear you need in it. Also, if you find yourself in a situation where you cant make rent, dont pay part of it, spend that money on gear, pocket the rest and leave, youll have a much nicer time. Look up your local eviction laws, you have plenty of time. (Gear list at the end)

2) travel! If you're in Arizona in May, leave. it's about to be hot as hell. If you're in Michigan in October, leave. It's about to be cold as hell. If you're in a big city, leave. It's way easier to be homeless pretty much anywhere else. Amtrak is cheaper and more comfortable than greyhound, hitchhiking is free and easy, if you're alone it's not that much slower than the previous two, and it's more fun, and sometimes people buy you food or whatever or give you money. I promise it's not scary and you're entirely capable of doing it, no matter who you are. 95+% of people who will pick you up are very nice. All you have to do is take the bus out of town, as far down the highway you can, to an exit with a truck stop if possible, then just stand on the side of the road with your thumb out until someone picks you up. You can stand at the bottom of the ramp(on the highway) near where the merge lane ends or at the top of the ramp(where there's usually a traffic light), the former is more likely to lead to cop interactions but will maybe get you a ride faster, check on hitchwiki for how the cops are in the area. don't be afraid to take a commuter bus or Amtrak to get out of a shitty cop area

3) skip shelters if you can (they are very occasionally a decent place to get stuff from) and encampments, good places to sleep include the trees near railroad tracks or highways, wooded areas behind shopping centers, sections of parks without paths, overgrown empty lots. Hang a tarp above you if there's an appreciable chance of rain, there's tons of YouTube tutorials on how to do this, maybe I'll make a post about what I usually do some day. There are many habits more fun than motel rooms, save your money for them lmao.

4) get on food stamps. This is easier in some places than others, but it makes the whole thing a lot easier. Just tell them you're homeless, if they don't give you a card the same day, you can probably ask to pick it up from that office, alternatively some drop in centers/day shelters can receive mail for you, or you can have it sent to general delivery(USPS service, look it up)

7) libraries are great for charging your phone and using wifi, but also keep an eye out, plenty of random outlets on the outsides of buildings are also powered

5) dumpster. sidewalk trash cans, Aldi, Einstein's, trader Joe's, pizza places, etc. You need to develop a bit of a sense for it but it's an easy way to get cooked food or travelling food or expensive food without spending resources. Also it's fun.

6) water is free, go into the bathroom of any gas station or grocery store in America(offer not valid in most big cities or on the west coast, but in that case just go to the library) and fill up your water bottle

8) hygiene notes: truckers get free showers from chain truck stops(loves, pilot/flying j) go there and ask them. convenient if you're hitchhiking, also you don't need to shower 3 times a day, really, you'll survive. Ditto with deodorant. Take care of your teeth though. Take your socks off every. day. Change them consistently. Safety razors give a good shave, work well without adequate water pressure, and the replacement blades are very stealable, they're kind of heavy though. Walmart makes these electric razors for women that take AA batteries and are pretty light but give a worse shave, also they kinda go through batteries, pick whatever works for you(cartridge razors suck)

9) traveling food notes: peanut butter is great, tortillas and bagels travel pretty well, tuna packets are pretty good protein for traveling(the ones with rice and beans or whatever are nice since theyre often the same price as the regular), condiment packets are free, hot sauce makes everything better, and mayo goes well with tuna and has a bunch of calories in it, salad dressing packets are free from truck stops and work well turning the Walmart shredded vegetable packages (labeled for making into slaw, next to the bagged salads) into a salad with real vegetables(not iceberg lettuce) in it or mixing in with tuna packets for even more calories than mayo

Gear world:

Necessary items(in order of importance): a gallon of water carrying capacity(an Arizona jug or other twist top jug is conventional, but a bladder+arizona bottles also works), a tarp(larger than 6'x9', not brightly colored), a hank of parachord, a sleeping bag (20° rated, synthetic insulation), a backpack with a padded hip belt(at least 50L, no more than 75), rain gear(a rain poncho might cover your pack too, a rain jacket can help with wind when its cold, a trash bag inside or outside your pack can keep it dry, a plan to watch the weather and not get caught also works), a z-fold foam sleeping pad, three pairs of socks, two pairs of underwear (at least one pair of boxer breifs strongly recommended if you arent incredibly skinny), a decent pair of shoes with good arch support, a functional jacket(skip if you got a rain jacket before), a base layer(wool or poly, absolutely no cotton)

Convenient items: a sleeping bag liner(cotton free, keeps you warm in winter and cool in summer), gallon zip locks to pack your stuff in(helps keep it dry and organized), no more than one change of clothes(as light as possible), a multi-tool(can opener, pliers, wire cutter), lighter(burning rope ends etc), spoon, floss and needles for patching

#anyway #not all encompassing or whatever #feel free to add your own tips but ill make fun of you if theyre stupid

[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #angst #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #friends to lovers #musician eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #situationship #mutual pining #steve swears off dating #eddie is hopelessly in love with him #what if steve is the archer #who could ever leave me darling but who could stay #what if eddie is linger #you know i'm such a fool for you #the archer #linger #eddie will stay

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

-

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 

And then it lingers. 

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else. 

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price

[scuderiahoney]

In From The Rain

Oscar Piastri x plant nerd!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution. Check out the moodboard here!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: none

The greenhouse is quiet in the early morning. It’s one of your favorite things. Before the customers come in, looking for flowers for their porch or vegetable plants for their gardens, it’s just you and the plants and the sun streaming in through the glass. So when somebody interrupts your morning solitude, you’re not exactly happy about it.

Sure, you’re technically open, but nobody ever gets here this early. You’re watering plants in your rain boots, a mug of coffee in your hand, when the front door swings open. You turn to look, the noise startling you.

The man who walks in looks sheepish when his eyes meet yours. He ducks under a hanging basket, nearly trips over your garden hose. His cheeks flush red. You’d be more irritated with his presence if he wasn’t being so cute about it.

“Sorry, the- the sign said open,” he says, backing towards the door.

“You’re fine. We are open,” you affirm, flicking off the sprayer before you drown the petunias in front of you. “I was just surprised to see someone in here so early.”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound. Almost as nice a sound as his voice, with an Australian accent. He stops backing away. You should probably point out that he’s standing in a puddle, but you’re not sure if that’s really your place.

“Can I help you find something?” You ask.

He takes a step forward. A thick band of sunlight shines down on the top of his head, like a halo. He brushes his floppy hair from his face.

“No, that’s okay. You’re busy, I’ll just have a look around,” he says.

You nod. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

You turn back to the flower trays in front of you. They’ll need pruning, soon. And some of the hanging baskets are getting a bit unruly- it’ll likely be time to put them on sale in the next few days, to open up space for new plants. You can hear the man walking around behind you, peering at the plants. His footsteps are hesitant, and when you look, he has his hands held behind his back. He leans close to read the signs, brows tightly wound.

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking for.

You put the hose away and set your nearly empty coffee down at your workstation in the back of the greenhouse. Then you make your way back up to the front, where he’s standing near the succulents.

“Sure you don’t want help?” You ask.

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Is it that obvious that I’ve got no idea what I’m doing?”

“A bit,” you say, and he laughs again. “That’s okay, though. It’s what I’m here for. What are you looking for?”

He stands up straight, eyes dancing over the greenhouse. “So. I’ve been told my apartment is boring. A friend suggested a plant to liven up the space.”

You nod. A tale as old as time. He’ll either kill the plant within a week or fill his whole place with them.

“But I’m gone a lot for work,” he says. “Like, a lot. So I need something that won’t wilt the second I’m gone, you know?”

You nod. “Does your apartment get good light?”

He laughs. “I don’t know what good light means.”

“Which direction do your windows face?”

“South,” he says, confidently. “Google said that was good. Right?”

You fight a laugh. He’s a bit adorable. Trying very hard to get it right. Like this is a test with right and wrong answers.

“Yeah, south facing is great.” You gesture towards the succulents. “You could get a succulent. They can go weeks without watering, but they need lots of light.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “I thought these were cactuses. Or cacti?”

“Close,” you tell him, and he smiles again. “Cacti are the ones with the spikes.”

He nods in understanding. He crouches down, then, eye levels with the little plants. Your heart is melting. You scuff one of your rain boots against the ground. You could stand here and watch the way his long eyelashes flutter as he blinks all day, but that would be creepy and you have a job you’re supposed to be doing.

“How do I know which one to get?” He says, quietly. “Like… there are so many different kinds.”

Your face breaks out into a huge grin. He’s so endearing. “I think you’ll know when you see it.”

He appears at the front cash register ten minutes later, a succulent in hand. It’s a little one, the perfect starter plant. He’s eyeing the decorative pots next to you, brows furrowed again.

“Those are too big for that plant,” you tell him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There are smaller ones on the other side of the display.”

He moves to look. You hear him shuffling, hear him pick up pots and then set them down. Then he appears again, a little pot with black and white checkerboard print on it in his other hand.

“Perfect,” you say softly. “Have you got potting soil?”

He clears his throat. “Um. No, but I’ve got a courtyard at my apartment with a garden… but I’m sensing from the look on your face that that won’t do.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Then you reach under the counter and grab one of the small sample bags of potting soil you keep on hand.

“Here. On the house.” You say. “So you can put that plant in the pot.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he says. He sets the other items down on the counter. “Thanks for all your help, actually.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

You bag the items carefully, making sure the plant won’t be squished. You put a care instruction sheet in the bag, too. Then you slide it to him with a smile.

“There’s a care sheet in there that should help. Enjoy your new plant,” you say. “I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” he says.

He leaves, then, and you’re left with your quiet greenhouse once again. It’s odd. Usually you breathe a sigh of relief after a customer leaves. But this time, you almost want him to come back.

…..

Two weeks later, you’re back at your workstation re-potting a sad looking philodendron. You look up from it when you hear the bell over the front door ring. The watering is already done, the hose put away, so there’s nothing for the man to trip over this time. But it is the same guy, and he ducks under the hanging basket the same way. You should maybe move it, but he seems to be the only one who’s had an issue with it. You stand up, wiping the dirt from your hands on your apron.

“You didn’t kill that succulent already, did you?” You call out.

His eyes dart to meet yours, and he laughs. “No! Promise.”

“Good. That would be a new record,” you laugh.

You let him wander the store on his own for a few minutes as you get the philodendron correctly in the new pot. Then you give it some water and take it with you to set it back out on the shelf. He’s still the only other person in the store, and he’s currently eyeing the flats of flowering plants.

“It’s actually going really well,” he says as you walk by. “He has a new leaf.”

That’s when you know the guy is hooked. He has a new leaf. The plant is no longer just a plant to him. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if he’s the type to name his plants. You set the one in your hands down on the table in front of you, your back to him so he doesn’t see your wide grin. When you turn around, you tone it down.

“That’s great,” you say encouragingly. “So I’m guessing you want another one?”

He nods, rubbing his finger over the leaf of a fiddle leaf fig. “Yeah, but I’m thinking something different this time. Something bigger.”

“You don’t want that one,” you say, and he backs away from the fig tree slightly. “Fiddle leafs are notoriously dramatic. If you left her for a week she’d drop all her leaves.”

He sighs and stands up. “What would you suggest?”

You wave him over to another area of the store. He follows eagerly, footsteps splashing in the leftover puddles from the morning watering. You lead him to a section of spiky, tall plants.

“Snake plant,” you say, pointing at them.

He’s standing next to you, and your shoulders just barely brush. A shiver runs down your spine. You try to hide it.

“Snake plant,” he repeats. “The name makes sense.”

“People also call them mother in law’s tongue,” you add. You fight the urge to check his ring finger. “But if you’ve got a mother in law I’d suggest avoiding that name.”

He laughs, and his shoulder bumps into your again. “I don’t. But snake plant sounds cooler.”

You nod in agreement. “They do well with very little water. And, they can do okay in pretty low light, too. So if you’ve got a darker area that needs a plant, it would be a good fit.”

He’s up at the register ten minutes later, plant and a pot in hand. This one is plain terracotta. You like that he’s the type of person to buy the pots, too. Some people just leave them in the boring plastic, and it makes you sad to think about. All plants deserve a nice home. You say that to him as you ring him up, and he laughs. He’s also grabbed a small bag of potting soil this time.

Your repeat the process, same as last time, and hand him the bag. He takes it, and then he hesitates.

“Thanks again,” he says, juggling the bag until it’s held in one arm. He sticks his hand out to you. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

You tell him your name, though you’re sure he could read it off your nametag, too. When you shake his hand, you swear the warmth of it runs all the way up your arm. He thanks you again, and then he disappears out the door once again. That ache is back in your chest. You find yourself hoping he��ll be back soon.

…..

He does come back. Multiple times. He buys more succulents on one trip, asking you to help him choose between them, and then he ends up buying all three instead. Another morning he comes in and you show him a ZZ plant you’ve just gotten in that you think will be perfect for him- you don’t tell him you’ve been saving it for him at your work station. It’s just… you know it’ll look great next to the snake plant he bought.

Each time he comes to the store, he hangs around a little longer. You chat about the weather, about the plants in the store, about his plants at home. You tell him funny stories about other customers and complain to him about the rude ones. In return, he tells you about his coworkers, specifically one named Lando who he seems to get into a lot of mischief with. He hasn’t said what he does for work. You field weird about asking, so you don’t.

The 4th time he stops by, you suggest a pothos. He eyed the leaves and vines skeptically.

“The other ones looked tough, you know? Like they’d survive even if I fucked up.” He tugs at one of the vines. “Are you sure about this one?”

You nod encouragingly. “You can handle it. I promise. Plus, the cool thing about these is you can cut parts of the vines, like this,” you say, holding up one you’d taken from the workstation. “And then you stick it in water for a bit, it grows roots, and you’ve got a whole new plant.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“I know,” you laugh.

He joins you up at the front to buy the plant. You go through the same routine. This time, he’s picked out a pretty blue ceramic pot for it. It compliments the leaves well. Then he leans on the counter and the two of you start chatting. You’d had a shipment that came in last week with a bunch of dead plants, so you regale him with the story of trying to deal with the company’s customer service. In turn, he tells you a story about his family back home- one of his sisters had a dance recital, his mother tried to videotape it for him, he received a video of his mother’s face as she watched the recital. You don’t realize how long the two of you have been talking until Jane, the next person on the schedule, walks in.

You stand up straight, face growing hot suddenly. “Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, hun,” she says, walking past the two of you. “Sorry I’m late. Bet you’re dying for your lunch break.”

She’s late? You and Oscar must’ve been talking for… forever. It had felt like only minutes. He smiles sheepishly and pushes away from the counter.

“Well, I should be going,” he says, taking the bag in his arms. “Thanks again!”

You watch him walk out the front door, unsure why it feels like you’ve been caught. It reminds you of the feeling you’d gotten years ago, when your teacher found you and the boy you had a crush on in the hallway alone. You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but it still makes you feel strange.

“Friend of yours?” Jane asks when you walk past her to take your break.

You blink, shrugging. “I think he might be.”

…..

Oscar always comes in on Tuesdays. You avoid taking Tuesdays off and won’t admit to yourself that he’s the reason why. But when you wake up with a raging fever and a pounding head, you know you have to call in. Jane, always a sweetheart, takes your shift. When you see her two days later, it’s after you’ve already done the opening shift.

“Did you see your plant?” She asks as she breezes through the greenhouse.

You shut off the hose you’d been using to water a particularly thirsty chrysanthemum. “What plant?”

“The one your friend brought,” she says, and you only feel more confused. “He dropped it off Tuesday, said he was looking for you. It’s on the desk.”

You walk over to the workstation. Sure enough, in a tiny plastic pot- likely one from one of the succulents he’d bought-there’s a small pothos vine growing. You pick up the little plant, knocking over the piece of paper propped up on it in the process. You reach for it, finding a note written in rushed, messy scrawl.

I know you’ve probably got tons, but it felt right that you would have my very first propagation. Learned that word from the internet. Feel better soon! -Oscar

You turn to look at Jane. She’s at the register, not paying you any attention. You cradle the tiny plant close to your chest and do the same with the note. Then you tuck the paper away for safekeeping.

The plant, however, you carry with you all day. You place it in a sunbeam at the front register. When it catches your eye every so often, you feel a warmth in your chest.

…..

The next time Oscar comes in, he eyes the little plant at the register. You’ve stuck a little stake in it and tied a bow on top. He smiles softly and turns back to the display of pots. He chooses a tiny one with checkerboard print, the same as his very first purchase. You ring him up for all his items, but when you go to put that one in the bag, he grabs it and shakes his head. He slides it towards your tiny vine.

“For your plant,” he says, smiling softly.

You break into a face splitting grin. “You’re too sweet.”

His fingers brush against yours when you take it from him. You swear you feel sparks. You wonder if the red cheeks he sports as he leaves the store means he felt it, too.

…..

Another man comes into the shop early in the morning. It’s a Wednesday this time. You know it won’t be Oscar because of that, but you still look up eagerly. The guy nods, waving politely. You smile and go back to your watering. He walks the aisles, looking at the plants and never picking them up.

“Excuse me?” He says, after you’ve put the hose away. You turn, trying to hide your surprise at his American accent. “Um. Could you tell me where the succulents are?”

You grin and nod, walking over towards the area. You point them out.

“These right here,” you say. “Anything I can help you with?”

He stares at the tiny plants. “I have no idea what I’m doing. My friend, he’s gotten really into plants, and he talks about this shop all the time. Figured I’d see what the hype was all about.”

You tilt your head. He’s probably not, but it almost sounds like he’s talking about Oscar. You try and shake the idea from your head. Oscar is just a customer, he’s not going around and telling his friends about the greenhouse he goes to. He’s definitely not telling them about you.

“Succulents are a good place to start,” you say.

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a green thumb. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.” You say with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

He ends up picking out a little succulent. He doesn’t go for a decorative pot. He seems wholly unconfident in his ability to keep it alive for more than a few days. Still, he smiles as he’s leaving. He pauses in the doorway.

“You know, I thought Oscar was exaggerating when he told me about you,” he says. “But I get it now.”

He’s out the door before you can even form a syllable, let alone a word or a sentence. You think about chasing after him and asking what the hell that even means, but you stay rooted there. Oscar talks about you. To his friends. You swear your heartbeat doesn’t slow all morning, and the heat in your cheeks stays there all day.

…..

Oscar comes rushing into the shop the next Tuesday. He has a brown paper bag in his arms, and his eyes are wide. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. You stand up, setting the garden hose down. He nearly slips on a puddle as he rushes over to you, and you reach out to steady him.

“I just got home last night,” he rushes, “and something’s wrong with- with Greg.”

“Greg?” You ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

“My succulent,” he says. His cheeks have gone red. “I name my plants. Is that weird?”

You laugh. “No, it’s not.”

You don’t tell him you’ve named your tiny pothos vine after him. You take the bag from his arms and walk to the back of the store, towards the work station. You reach in and pull out the succulent. It’s a little withered, a bit droopy. It’s also doubled in size since he bought it.

“I’ve been watering him when the soil gets dry,” he says, “and he’s still getting sunlight. I’ve tried everything- I left music playing for them when I left, so-“

Your eyes flicker up to him. He plays music for his plants. He’s the cutest man you’ve ever met. You want to take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. Or his lips. He has these cute little freckles and moles- you’d like to draw constellations between them. Your face feels hot again. You direct your attention back to the plant as he rambles on. You frown, tugging slightly to see the roots.

“Osc, babe,” you interrupt, and he stops and stares at you. “He’s just a little root bound.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve just called him babe. It’s too late now.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, the panicky tone still in his voice.

“It means,” you start, nudging his side softly with your elbow, “that you’ve taken such good care of him that he’s outgrown this pot. He needs more soil. More room to spread out.”

His shoulders drop. The panic melts off his face. “Oh.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t believe when you came in here the first time you had no idea what a succulent even was. And now here you are, all panicked over a little wilting. You’ve become a true plant nerd, haven’t you?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“It’s cute,” you tell him, just to watch the blush creep up on his cheeks again. “Come on, let’s get him a new pot and some fresh soil.”

You lead him up to the front. He starts to pick through the display, holding the succulent up to the different options until he finds the right one. It’s a light orange.

You nod in approval. “Now you’ve got an empty pot,” you say, pointing at the original pot for the succulent. “Which means if you want, you have an excuse to buy another plant.”

“You’re so smart,” he says, eyes wide.

He rushes over to the display of succulents. While he’s picking one out, you carefully re-pot the plant into its new home. He takes his time, like always, indecisive to the very end. When he makes it up to the counter, he grins widely at the sight of the plant in its new pot.

“Thanks,” he says, softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

…..

When Oscar comes into the shop on a particularly rainy Tuesday, you’re trying hastily to hide your tears. He doesn’t come in every week, but it’s just your luck that he’s here today of all days. You wave and turn your back to him, sticking to the workstation. You hear the soft fall of his tennis shoes, though, even over the sound of the rain against the greenhouse roof, and you know he’s making his way towards you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, voice low.

You turn and find him with his hands in his jeans pockets. You wipe at your cheeks hastily, hoping he can’t tell how upset you are, but knowing you look a wreck. Your hair is soaked in rainwater, and your eyes likely red rimmed and puffy. It’s confirmed when his soft smile drops into a frown.

“I’ve had a shit morning,” you tell him with a sigh.

He pulls one hand from his pocket. “You, uh. You have dirt on your cheek.”

You groan and try to brush it away. Oscar chews on his lower lip. Then he reaches out, his fingertips sweeping against the skin of your face. His hand is warm, despite the chill in the air. Tiny sparks seem to spread across your skin, following the trail of his touch. Your face grows hot.

“There,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

He nods. “What’s going on? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but…”

You sigh and turn away slightly, back to the plant in the pot in front of you. His gaze is so warm that you can’t stand to look at him, afraid you might start crying all over again.

“Just. Woke up late, so I was in a rush. And then I locked my car key in the car because I forgot something in the flat, and my mum has the spare key and she’s not even awake yet, so I had to walk here in the rain. And I couldn’t find my umbrella.” You brush a wet piece of hair away from your forehead. “And I slept like shit, and haven’t had any caffeine because I was late. So, yeah.”

“Shit morning,” Oscar agrees.

You nod. You finally turn to look at him again. There’s a soft look on his face, one you can’t quite place. He reaches out, places his hand flat on the counter next to yours. If you shifted your thumb just slightly, you could touch his. You want to, but you don’t.

“Sorry, I- Can I help you find anything?” You ask, blinking at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I asked,” he says. He rocks back on his heels and pulls his hand back. “I actually just remembered, I’m- I have to- I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and walks quickly to the front of the store. The bell dings as he walks out through the front door. You stare at the spot where his hand had been for just a moment and feel your heart shatter in your chest. You’d gone and over shared with your favorite customer, the one you thought might actually be your friend, and now you’ve scared him off. Yet another tally to add to the shit morning. You collapse into the chair behind the counter and rest your head in your hands, trying to will the tears away.

You’re not sure how long goes by before you hear the bell over the door again. And really, nobody comes in this early, so why are they choosing today of all days? You hastily wipe your face on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and stand up, plastering a smile onto your lips to greet whoever is in the store.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s… Oscar. He’s walking towards you, though he’s not looking at you. He has three takeout coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands. His hair matches yours now, soaking wet and hanging over his forehead. You burst into laughter as he sets them down.

“Oh my god, I thought I scared you off,” you say, brushing a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“No,” he says, eyes wide. “You said you needed caffeine. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”

You laugh and press your hands to the counter, leaning towards the cups. “Three cups?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I got you coffee, but I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar. So,” he points at the smallest of the three cups, “this is cream,” he says while digging in his pockets. Then he places an assortment of sugar packets on the counter. “And here’s sugar. The other cup is mine.”

You grin at him, shaking your head. “I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason.”

The smile he gives you in return is bright enough to make up for the lack of sun, to wash away the rain clouds, to warm your cold hands. You open the lid to the coffee and pour a bit of cream in, and then add two sugars. Oscar watches, nodding.

“I’ll know for next time,” he says.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Next time. You like the sound of that. You wrap your hands around the paper cup and let the warmth seep into your fingers before you take a sip. You sigh happily, meeting his eyes over the lid. The cup in his hand has something written on it in messy pen. You wonder if the barista tried to give him their number, and you fight back the jealous feeling at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

“It’s no biggie,” he insists. “I owed you anyway, for saving Greg.”

He hangs out for a while that morning, leaning on your counter and chatting. You re-pot some plants and then bring them out to the displays, and he follows along. There’s something about his presence alone that warms you up from the inside out. By the time he looks at his watch and curses, muttering about having a meeting, you’re feeling much better. His hand brushes your shoulder before he leaves. You call after him to thank him again for the coffee.

He stops in the doorway, rain falling on his arm that’s extended to hold the door open. “I’ll see you soon!”

Then he disappears into the storm.

…..

You don’t see him soon. It’s not abnormal for Oscar to go a couple weeks without stopping in, so at first you don’t think much of it. Each Tuesday, though, you look up eagerly when the bell over the door rings, and your heart sinks when it’s not him. Maybe you really did over share, maybe he did get scared off. You try not to think about it.

It’s just… he was cute, and kind, and fun to talk to. He brought you coffee. You wonder how his plants are doing, if he’s still playing music for them while he’s gone. You have fleeting images in your brain of him watering the plants, taking the time to look for new leaves and check the roots. You almost wish he’d have another plant emergency, just to give him a reason to stop back in.

Eventually, after a month goes by and he hasn’t been back, you give up almost entirely. You’ll move on eventually, find a new favorite customer. You couldn’t have expected him to keep coming around forever, after all. To him, you were just another retail worker.

You do end up seeing his American friend one more time. He comes in on a Wednesday morning, just like before. He doesn’t stop and look at any of the plants, instead beelining for you. You’re working on bagging some potting soil and watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I just-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I super killed that succulent.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re Oscar’s friend, right? He didn’t help you?”

The guy shakes his head. “He made fun of me, though. Said I overwatered it.”

“How is he, anyways?” You ask.

Logan frowns. “He’s good.”

You nod. “Well, d’you want to try again?”

“No, that’s not why I-“ he sighs, rubbing his temples. “He won’t shut up about you, you know.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Find that hard to believe, since he hasn’t been here for almost a month.”

Which is maybe a little mean spirited. And probably not something you should be saying to his friend. You wince.

Now it’s his turn to blink wildly. “So you miss him too?”

You squint at him. “Why are we having this conversation? I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Logan,” he says. “You haven’t like… reached out to him or anything?”

“How would I?” You ask. “I don’t even know his last name, let alone his phone number.”

“His last name’s Piastri.”

“That feels like information you shouldn’t be giving away to strangers.”

He’s not listening, though. Something seems to have clicked in his head. His eyes go wide and he starts to back away.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thanks!”

You’ve had a lot of strange interactions while working retail, but that one comes in pretty high on the list. And it leaves you wondering about Oscar, which is something you’re trying desperately not to do. All in all, not a great day.

…..

Two weeks later, you clock out of your Tuesday shift around lunchtime and head down the street. It’s raining again, but at least this time you’re armed with a raincoat and an umbrella. Your car is parked nearby, but you’re in the mood for coffee and warm food, so you head to the cafe nearby. You try not to think about the time Oscar had brought you coffee from there. You can’t help picturing his soft smile, eyes trained on the cups balanced precariously in his hands.

You make it halfway to the cafe before a gust of wind hits your umbrella at just the right angle and snaps the metal supports. Then, as if the universe is playing a cruel trick on you, a car speeds by on the road next to you, hits a puddle, and sprays you with muddy water. It soaks through your clothes and onto your skin nearly immediately. You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists and yell dramatically at the sky.

“Shit,” someone says, and the sound of his voice makes your breath catch in your chest. Then he says your name.

You turn, coming face to face with Oscar. Well. Okay. He’s studying you with a pained look on his face and standing under an umbrella.

“Yeah, shit,” you mutter, shaking water from your hands. “Oh my God. Hi, by the way. It’s been a bit.”

“It has,” he agrees, shuffling closer to hold the umbrella over you. “Here. Um. You okay?”

You shrug. “S’just water. I won’t melt.”

Oscar laughs- god, you’ve missed that sound- and nudges your shoulder. “You’ve got bad luck with rainstorms, huh?”

You nod. You’re trying not to freak out at the fact that he’s here. Oscar is standing next to you, holding his umbrella over your head. He’s here and he’s talking to you and he’s feeling sympathetic, which maybe means he doesn’t think you’re completely crazy.

“S’what I get for trying to go get coffee,” you say over the sound of raindrops on the umbrella. “And lunch. Now I’ve got to drive home like this.”

Oscar frowns, his whole face crumpling with it. “Hey, you know… I live just a block down. If you want, you could come and change into some dry clothes.”

Your mother would kill you for even considering it. You can practically hear her yelling in your head. But god, it’s Oscar. It’s Oscar and you haven’t seen him in a month and you might never see him again. There’s something about the soft look on his face that makes you trust him.

“Okay,” you say, quietly. “That would be… really nice. But only if you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he says.

Your shoulders brush as you walk, the umbrella over both of your heads. The two of you are nearly silent on the walk there. It’s like neither of you quite know what to say. You know you don’t. You worry he’s regretting inviting you to his place. But he lets you in the front door, leads you to the elevator, and all the way up to flat. When he opens the door, warm air pours over you like a river. You step in and toe off your boots, wincing at the squish of your wet socks.

Oscar winces, too. “Here, the bathroom’s right there,” he says, pointing at a partially open door. “I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. There’s towels in there too.”

You nod and step into the room. So far, the little bit of his apartment that you’ve seen matches up with what he’s told you. There are no shoes sitting out in the entryway. The bathroom is nearly spotless, which makes you feel a bit guilty about the dirty rainwater you’re dripping onto the floor. Oscar’s only gone long enough for you to take off your jacket.

He knocks on the door. “I’ve got clothes for you.”

You open the door, and he’s standing there, eyes squeezed shut. The clothes are held out in midair, like he’s trying to keep his distance. You laugh and take them, murmuring out a thanks. As you go to change, you hear him walk away.

You shuck your wet clothes off and drop them in the tub, shivering when the air hits your bare skin. You wipe the rainwater from your skin. Then you pull on the clothes he gave you- a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Plus a pair of thick, warm looking socks. All of them are baggy on you, but luckily the pants have a drawstring so you can pull them tight around your hips. You wring the water out of your hair with the towel and then wrap it around your shoulders before you step out into the hallway.

You can hear him moving around in the next room, so you head there. He’s standing at the kitchen island, which is open to the living room. He looks up when he hears you walk in, and a soft smile spreads across his face. His living room is neat and tidy, too. His plants are all lined up on the windowsill. You recognize them all from your store, and you smile.

“D’you have a plastic bag I can put my clothes in?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you. “I don’t wanna get more rainwater on your floor. Or in my car, really.”

“I mean, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Or… you could throw them in the washer. Hang out for a bit.”

He’s not looking at you anymore. You’re glad, because you’re sure you have a dumbfounded look on your face. It’s then that you notice the coffee machine running on the counter behind him, and the snacks out on the counter. Your mind is racing. He hasn’t stopped by the shop in nearly a month, but now…

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you say, unsure what else there is to possibly say.

He shakes his head, still not looking up. “You’re not.”

You cast your eyes to the window. It’s raining harder now. And god, you’ve missed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing here.

“It’s been a while,” he says, turning his back to you when the coffee maker beeps. “We have some catching up to do.”

You think about letting it go. Maybe it’s enough to be here. Maybe you just shouldn’t bring it up. But really, you’re confused about the fact that he stopped coming to the store.

You tilt your head at him. “Yeah, you stopped coming in.”

“Well, you never texted me,” he says. “So I figured I’d freaked you out or something. But then Logan said he stopped by and you asked about me-“

You stare at the back of his head, bewildered, and you break in. “Oscar, I don’t have your number.”

He freezes, hand in midair, reaching for a coffee mug. He turns his head over his shoulder, and his eyes meet your again. He looks just as confused as you feel. Suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

“I wrote it on the coffee cup,” he says, voice quiet.

You stare at him, wide eyed. “There was nothing on my coffee cup.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “I’m sure of it. But there was writing on yours. I know because I wondered if the barista was trying to give you her number.”

Oscar just stares at you for a moment, his lips barely parted. “Shit. I gave you the wrong cup.”

Shit, you repeat in your head. He tried to give you his number. He thought he gave you his number, and then you never texted him. He thought you rejected him. No wonder he stopped coming in.

“You could’ve just asked me for my number, you know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but this was cuter,” he says. “It was- it was my number and this cheesy ass pickup line that Logan helped me think of and I- I really thought you just didn’t…”

“Pickup line?”

“Looking back it sounds stupid,” he admits. “But yeah. I was trying to ask you out on a date. And so when you didn’t text me…”

You cross the room, walking right up in front of him. His hands have fallen to his sides. His eyes trace your face as you smile up at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, brows slightly furrowed. You can smell the coffee now- it reminds you of when he brought you the coffee weeks ago.

“You should ask me now,” you tell him, smiling brightly.

He nods. “Without the pickup line, though.”

You pout up at him. He grins. One of his hands comes up to the side of your face, fingers cupping your jaw. His thumb prods at your cheek.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks, voice low.

You pretend to think about it. Pretend it doesn’t make your heart melt just to hear him say it. “Hm. When?”

He shrugs, looks around. “How about now?”

“It’s raining,” you remind him.

“We can have a stay at home date,” he suggests. “Coffee, lunch, a movie, maybe.”

You tilt your head. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” He says, sounding a bit like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since the day we met.”

Oscar laughs and leans closer. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, then.”

He presses his lips to yours, and your eyes slip closed. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear- it’s still wet from the rain, and both of you giggle into the kiss. His hands drop to your hips, shoving the sweatshirt out of the way to hold onto you. You could kiss him for hours, you think. It’s all you’ve wanted for months now.

The coffee is growing cold on the counter. Suddenly, though, you don’t need caffeine.

He pulls away slightly, looks you up and down. “You look cute in my clothes, you know.”

You giggle and tug on the sweatshirt, pointing at the orange logo on the chest. “Thanks. Big McLaren guy, are you?”

Oscar laughs and brushes his lips against your temple. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Then he goes back to kissing you. You’re not complaining. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn all about him.

…..

Weeks later, you corner Logan at the British Grand Prix. Oscar’s distracted by interviews, but Logan’s not busy.

“What was the pickup line he wrote?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest.

Surprisingly, he needs very little convincing. He just laughs, eyes darting to where Oscar stands behind you in the media pen. His gaze is full of amusement.

“I be-leaf we’re meant to be,” he says in a teasing tone. “He was down bad.”

You laugh and turn over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend. He’s grinning watching the two of you talk. Later, you tease him for the cheesy line, for hiding behind coffee cups and scribbled pen when he could’ve just told you. He teases you for the same, for not telling him how you felt, for not making a move. And then you look at him, knowing your gaze is terribly soft.

“I believe it, too,” you tell him.

When he kisses you, you draw constellations between the freckles on his face with your thumb. Outside, it starts to rain.

a/n: can you tell I am a big plant nerd? anyways live laugh love oscar piastri I want to help him pick out plants :)

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #honeywrites #op81 #if you’ve made it this far in the tags somehow hi

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens meta #abel talks meta #good omens through the ages #good omens 1967 #signed by an autistic pwBPD with a penchant for over-analyizing tone and body language #anthony j crowley #you go too fast for me crowley

[springseasonie]

the walls are thin | NJM + LJN (M)

Roommate Jeno x fem reader x Roommate Jaemin

Summary: both Jaemin and Jeno have always had a thing for you and were never shy about it either. You always play hard to get, but all of your playing was going to catch up with you sooner or later.

Warnings: sexual content, dubcon themes, porn with little plot, horrifically Jaemin biased (it just happened that way), unprotected sex, kitchen sex, oral (male and fem receiving), degrading, praising, voyeurism, exhibitionism (if you squint), snowballing, mean dom jeno, soft dom Jaemin, literally just filth, proofread but may still contain errors

Word count: 7,4k

A/N: I had a completely different idea for this pairing, but I didn't like here it was going so I completely scrapped it and came up with this. Hope y'all like it it's my first time writing a 3some dynamic so be patient with me lol. Also I wanna try a new picture situation for fics soooo yeah idk if I'll be doing it for long. Probably just for multiple members fics. Pics aren't mine. Feedback is welcomed as always this was long overdue I was supposed to post this days ago

The walls are pretty thin in your apartment, which is why you're so grateful when everyone is gone. You can't escape the constant sounds of your roommates laughing, talking, doing God knows what. You enjoy the peace and quiet, especially at night. The only drawback is that there is virtually no privacy.

You can't count the amount of times both Jeno and Jaemin asked you about conversations you had with people on the phone the night before. It always left you a bit shocked and freaked out. They never told you how much they heard or knew, just that they heard you. And on mornings like this - ones where you wake up groggy from getting yourself off - they never skip a beat to tell you they heard you.

"You're really loud at night you know," Jaemin said, pouring milk in his cereal.

"What are you talking about?" You yawned, covering your mouth with your hand. It's a Saturday, which means you have nothing but time to spare.

"When you're touching yourself. You should do a better job at keeping quiet," Jeno answered as he walked into the kitchen.

"Why were you listening?" Your tone was monotonous, still trying to fully wake up from your sleep. Nothing they said had any impact on you anymore. Their non-stop flirting and crude comments don't make you cringe and squirm like they used to, completely used to whatever games they were constantly trying to play.

"I didn't have a choice," Jaemin said, mouth full of cereal.

"We always have choices in life." You leaned on the edge of the counter, crossing your arms. Jeno brushed his hair back, biceps bulging in his right long sleeve top. It was no secret that even though you kept turning them down, they were eye candy. When you told your friends about them, they wondered how you were going to live with 2 men that looked like they were meant to be male strippers.

It's easy for you, really. Just get to know them. Getting to know people always helps get rid of the initial attraction, and they definitely made it easy. Except it came back 10 times stronger. And you really didn't mean for it to happen really, it just happened, and you're annoyed that it happened. But is it really your fault?

"Just how you made a choice to come out completely naked," Jeno questioned, looking you up and down.

"I'm wearing a tank top and shorts. Be serious." You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the counter. You turned around, reaching up to get a bowl only to be pressed against the counter again

"Let me help you out," Jeno said in your ear. He pressed himself against you, pushing his bulge into your ass. Jeno grabbed the bowl out of your hand, setting it down in front of you with the sweetest smile. "And I meant in other ways that don't involve getting bowls from cabinets."

Jeno backed away from you, and for the first time you can confidently say you didn't want him to move. But he'll never know that. Neither of them will ever know the effect they have on you for as long as you're in the same household. But sometimes you really wonder if it's worth it, not letting them touch you in the ways you want. Not letting them do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. It didn't really matter anyways, they're just 2 people out of the 8 billion on the planet.

"You are so spoiled you know that."

You jump, surprised at the sound of Jaemin's voice near your ear. You forgot he was still in the kitchen being lost in thought about Jeno's body pressed against yours. "What do you mean by that?"

"You have 2 guys constantly trying to fuck you, and you keep refusing," he says, chuckling softly. "It's honestly annoying."

You rolled your eyes pouring cereal in your bowl. "Then stop. I keep refusing and you keep coming back."

"But I like the chase."

You turned around, immediately being faced with Jaemin's eyes being directly on your tits. His gaze made you feel small sometimes, always looking at you like you were a piece of meat. But you liked the way he looked at you. They way his gaze would linger, never shy to tell you exactly what he wanted with no words.

"All men like chasing," you replied, pouring the milk in your bowl.

"Not as much as me. When I catch you, you'll be wishing I didn't," he mumbled.

"You're funny."

"I've been told. And I tend to laugh women right out of their clothes." His witty responses never fail to amaze you. He always had a response for everything, never speechless although sometimes you wish he was.

You turned around, leaning on the counter as you shoved a spoon full of cereal in your mouth. "You know," you started, "sometimes I wish the 2 of you were man enough to do something."

Jaemin raised his brow, crossing his arms. "Is that some kind of challenge?"

"No, just a thought. I'm going to my room." You walked out the kitchen and down the tiny hallway, already hearing Jeno's music through the walls. You wish you weren't so evil, but there would be no fun in your life. Because as much as you tell them to stop, you just want them to keep telling you over and over again how much they want it, how much they need you.

"If you ever need help, remember I'm next door," Jaemin called out behind you.

"Never gonna happen."

-

"Fuck, come on!"

You've been playing video games since your conversation with Jaemin ended, and honestly you wish you hadn't even started. You've been doing nothing but yelling at your screen and pounding your desk. And you just so happened to get knocked out again.

"I can't take this shit anymore," you groaned, cradling your head in your arms. Just as you were about to throw your headset off, you heard a knock on your door. "Come in."

Jaemin walked in, face puffy like he just woke up from a nap. But you couldn't even keep looking at his face, not when he was wearing that one shirt that made him look bigger than he already was. And- oh. He wasn't wearing anything under his basketball shorts, was he?

"You're too loud." His voice was deep and groggy, the sound of it going straight to your core.

"Sorry. This game is just-"

"Annoying? I've heard you say that millions of times already. Just stop playing it." Jaemin leaned on your door frame, shaking his hair from his face. It was taking everything in you to not say what you wanted to. He's attractive and he knows it. He knows what he does to you and it drives you insane. "Just keep it down okay?" Jaemin turns on his heels, walking out of your room, door knob in his hand.

"I'll try. You know how I get when I'm stressed."

Stressed. That was all he heard. "You're stressed?"

"Yeah, just a little," you admit.

"Let me help you," he said, coming back into your room.

You turned around in your chair, raising your brow at his statement. "And how would you do that?"

Jaemin walked up to you, looking down at you with sleepy and lustful eyes. Silence filling the space between you. He needed you, even when he felt like he was gonna pass out. And he would take any chance to get you, only if you would let him. "Let me give you the best head in your life."

The request shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did, but the slight twitch of your right leg whenever you were turned on would always betray you. You scanned his face, eyes moving down his body. "Are you hard?"

"Yeah," he answered honestly. "But you don't have to do anything. I promise."

"I wasn't planning on it," you answered, turning around.

"You still didn't answer my question."

"You didn't ask me a question."

"Can I please eat you out," Jaemin repeated as if he was sounding out a word. You could hear the smile in his voice, knowing that if you turned back around, he would be looking at you with that shit eating grin he always does to get his way.

"I doubt you could find the clit, let alone make me cum."

Jaemin snickered at your statement, turning your chair around to face him. "Wanna bet?"

"I'm not letting you anywhere near her, especially not when Jeno's in the other room," you deny.

"Jeno would sleep through a war if he could. I think we'll be okay."

Jaemin smiled to himself watching you turn your chair back around to face your monitor.

"You know that's a lie, and I said what I said." You felt a small piece of you die inside when Jaemin crawled under your desk, face directly in between your legs. He couldn't help himself, and he knew there would only be so many times you pushed him away. But you're so predictable, it's almost funny. You love his sleepy voice and his puffy face, and the only reason he knows this is because you can't speak quietly on the phone.

He would listen to your conversations, listen to the way you talked about him, the things you said about him to your friends. He knows you're two faced, telling him one thing and saying another to other people. Jaemin doesn't know if it's a mistake, especially because you out of all people know how thin the walls are, but he doesn't care.

Jaemin pushed your legs open, half lidded eyes staring at your clothed cunt. "I swear you wore these just to provoke me," he mumbled.

"J-Jaemin wait.." you were completely overwhelmed, a little taken back with how fast things were moving. But the way his hands traveled from your legs to your ass was almost enough to make you forget the kind of game you were playing with him.

Jaemin pulled you closer to him, hands gripping you as he buried his face between your legs. "God, you smell so fucking good," he said, inhaling deeply. "I bet you taste even better."

At this point, you were sure Jeno could hear every word coming out his mouth. It shouldn't have turned you on so much, but it did. Was he listening? Is he jealous, mad it's Jaemin who got to you first? Was he touching himself to the thought of you? You wanted to see. You wanted to hear him. You wanted-

"Stop thinking about him." He practically growled.

You gulped, brows shooting to your forehead. "W-what?"

"I know you're wondering if he's really sleeping, if he can hear you." Jaemin's nose nudged on your clothed bud making you gasp softly. "You don't have to wonder. These walls are paper thin."

You didn't protest when he pulled your shorts and panties to your ankles, brian too preoccupied with the fact that you were about to get eaten out after a long time. But even in these circumstances, you couldn't pause your shit talking. "Still don't think you can make me cum."

Jaemin let out a soft chuckle. He didn't answer you or say anything, just pulled you to the edge of your seat and attached his mouth to your core like a moth to a flame. His tongue moved slowly at first, lapping at all your arousal. His nose nudged against your clit, making you shudder as you let out a soft sigh. But you can't give him the satisfaction yet, so you hold it back. You don't look down at him, you do anything to distract yourself from the man between your legs.

Jaemin doesn't care about your attempts to ignore him, all he cares about is proving you wrong like he always does. His thumbs massage the insides of your thighs as he grips your legs tight savoring every feel of the soft flesh. The speed of Jaemin’s tongue quickened as his eyes trailed up your body, his nose continuously nudging your clit. He can hear how much you're trying to stifle your moans not wanting him to know how much you like it.

"Let me hear you."

You kept your mouth closed, biting your lip hard as he continued licking at you. But when he directed his attention to your clit, a reluctant whine escaped your lips. You could feel Jaemin smile against your skin, knowing that you already lost the game you were trying so hard to win. You peeked under your desk for a millisecond only to make direct eye contact with him as he sucked your clit softly. He sucked harder, making you roll your eyes back at the sudden sensation.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

You still didn't answer, closing your eyes to avoid meeting his own. Jaemin flicked his tongue against you faster than before. You were way too sensitive at this point, every movement he made pulling you closer and closer to an orgasm. But you couldn't cum just yet, not when that was the only thing you were fighting to not do. But god, it just felt so good, too good.

"If you're gonna ignore me, I'm gonna stop," he said.

"N-no." That was the first thing you said in a while. You couldn't believe it, but you needed him to keep going. You wanted him to keep going. Haven't felt the touch of a man in months, this felt like heaven.

"Then say it," he said.

"Say what?"

"What do you want me to do?

"Keep..eating me out.. obviously."

Jaemin chuckled, running his fingertips along your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm already doing that. Tell me what you want me to do Y/N."

His tone was softer, less demanding than before. And now you knew what he was getting at. You knew what he wanted you to say, but you didn't want to give into him too easily. But you needed this so bad. "Make me cum," you answer quietly, voice trembling slightly.

"Say that again. I don't think Jeno heard you clear enough," he teased. You shook your head, refusing to speak. He placed a kiss on your clit, laughing softly when you let out a small sigh. "Are you a good girl?"

Reluctantly, you nodded your head, heat rushing to your face.

"Then say it again."

"Make me cum."

"Of course. Anything for you." Jaemin went at you like a starved man, licking and sucking and kissing every part of you, not leaving a single area untouched. You couldn't force yourself to stay quiet, not when only his tongue was working such wonders on you. Your hands naturally made their way to his hair, pushing it back to see his face better. Jaemin's eyes stared right into yours, eyes blown with lust.

"J-Jaemin," you whimpered softly as he flicked his tongue fast on your sensitive bud. He moaned, licking and slurping up your arousal while pulling your body closer to his. At this point, your hips were starting to fall off the edge of the seat. "I-I'm gonna fall, Jaemin."

Jaemin swiftly adjusted you on your seat, mouth never leaving you. He looked up at you, lids low. The sounds filing the room were sinful, the slurping sounds coupled with both of your moans making your head spin. Your hands tugged at his hair softly at every movement of his tongue.

"I bet you need something in you, don't you?" Jaemin's voice went from your ears right to your cunt. He smiled to himself watching you squeeze around nothing, desperate for anything. "How do my fingers sound?"

"Good Jaemin, fuck," you sighed, almost a little too quickly.

"Someone's a little excited," he laughed. "A little too excited for someone who told me I couldn't make her cum."

Jaemin lined two fingers up, pushing them into you slowly. You could almost cry at the feeling, so sensitive anything could send you over the edge. "M-more," you begged.

Jaemin raised a brow, wicked smile on his lips. "You want another one?"

"Please.."

Jaemin added a third finger, pumping them slowly. Sometimes, he's grateful that he loves giving pleasure, especially because of moments like this. You were so pretty above him, moaning out his name and practically melting in front of him. Your hard, stubborn exterior practically shattered as soon as he put his hands on you. It's funny how fast he got you to beg for him even though he knew how bad you wanted it already.

Jaemin licked at your clit while pumping his fingers inside you with a mission, a look of pure bliss spread over your face. "You're so pretty," he breathed out. "I always thought you were pretty."

You couldn't say anything, especially not when he started to finger you faster and his tongue slowed, arousal leaking all over your gaming chair. Your moans and whimpers started to grow in volume. There was no way you could stay quiet enough for Jeno not to hear now. Jaemin sucked your clit hard, making you groan loudly, tugging at his hair. "Jaemin you're gonna make me cum," you whimpered.

"I thought I couldn't." He pumped his fingers in and out quicker, grinning as you came closer and closer. "Maybe I should stop."

"J-Jaemin do not f-fuckin stop." You're brows knit, breath increasing every time he pumped his fingers in and out of you. A tight ball formed in your stomach, muscles beginning to tense under his touch. Jaemin gave your clit one hard lick, making you fall apart instantly. You came on his fingers, clenching on them tightly as you let out a shaky moan.

"That's it, let it out," he cooed. "You did so well for me Y/N."

Jaemin took his fingers out of you, sucking them while staring into your eyes. Your hazy expression was making him go crazy, and he knew he shouldn't keep going but he really couldn't help himself.

Jaemin threw your legs over his shoulders, latching his arms over them before you could move away. "This will be quick okay."

You whined when his tongue came in contact with you again, wiggling its way in your core. Jaemin moaned softly, tasting your cum on his tongue. Your weak pushes at his head were cute, so cute that he had to keep going.

"Jaemin please," you whined,"I..I can't.."

He kept staring at you, not intending to move away or stop. "Be a good girl and cum for me." His tongue was attacking your clit at this point, moving over the bud too fast for you to keep up. Jaemin's grip was so strong you couldn't even squirm away from the chair if you wanted to. He sucked hard, the feeling shooting through your body making your hands and legs weak.

Your body trembled when you came again, soft cries of curses spilling from your lips. And Jaemin still didn't stop. He licked up every single drop, not wanting to waste a bit. He didn't know when you were going to let him do this again even though he knew you would come back to him eventually. At this point, he was pretty sure he was addicted to the taste of you, scent of you, just you.

Jaemin finally loosened the grip on your legs, letting them fall off his shoulders. The both of you were breathing heavily since the adrenaline was still rushing. He didn't say anything and neither did you even when he came from under the table. Jaemin stood up, large figure looking over you as you tried to catch your breath.

"I'm going in my room," he said,"I'll..see you later."

You let him leave, not saying a word as you slumped in your seat. You were never going to live this moment down, letting him go down on you like that. And practically control you. And now that he's away, you're going to have to be tortured with hearing him touch himself in the next room over.

But all you could really say at the moment was that it in fact was the best head of your life.

It'd been 3 days since Jaemin completely overpowered you, beating you at your own game. And being forced to watch him go on with his day like nothing happened was driving you crazy, especially when he kept dropping little references of the events.

What's even worse is Jeno pretending he didn't hear anything. Pretending you weren't practically screaming Jaemin's name 3 days ago. But he did keep staring at you and you couldn't tell what he was thinking. You never could. Jeno was always good at hiding it until he wanted you to know.

And now you're alone in your apartment with him while Jaemin is at work for the night. The last thing you wanted to be was alone with Jeno, especially when he was in a bad mood like now.

You walked into the kitchen wanting to get something to eat without disturbance, but Jeno was already there. You looked at him, body leaning against the counter with his head in his hand. You and Jeno hadn't really had an actual conversation in 3 days. You were a bit afraid of him saying something that would remind you of the sinful things that took place in your room.

You walked past him, not really paying him any mind, but you could still feel his eyes on your back. And just as you were about to reach into the cabinet, he said something you were definitely not expecting.

"You're such a bitch."

You turned around, brow raised so high it could probably hit the roof. "I'm a what now?"

"You're a bitch," he repeated. Jeno looked at you with a straight face. There was nothing in his body language that suggested that he was doing this to mess with you. He was dead serious.

You squint your eyes, scoffing at his words. "Don't call me a bitch."

Jeno gave you a dry laugh, taking his hand from his face. "You don't think it's bitchy to have sex with your roommate when your other roommate was in the other room?"

"Are you mad it wasn't you," you snapped. You watched as Jeno lifted his body off the counter and walked to you slowly. He placed his arm beside your body, leaning close over yours, a dark smirk written across his face.

"I'm just surprised you gave into him so easily seeing that you deny me all the time." He couldn't keep eye contact with you, especially not when you were in the kitchen in nothing but leggings and that goddamn tank top. The white one you constantly wore with nothing underneath. You knew exactly what you were doing, and that's something Jeno always found attractive about you.

"My eyes are up here," you said, lifting his chin to look at you.

Jeno clicked his tongue annoyed. "You always try to put on this tough act, and it's really annoying."

"Can't be as annoying as this conversation."

"Then walk away, unless you wanna keep having this conversation," he said. You hesitated to move, making Jeno laugh. He pulled you back, pushing you on the counter.

"I was walking away," you said, trying to sound completely unphased when you were completely turned on by it.

"You just love playing hard to get, don't you," he mumbled, leaning into your neck. "You love it when we chase. Don't lie." You didn't speak, you just let him kiss your neck softly. He pressed his body against yours, parting your legs with his knee. Jeno wraps a hand around your neck, chuckling softly when your breath hitches. "I can't believe I was letting you walk around here like this without touching you," he mumbled.

Jenos other hand made its way to your ass, groping you roughly. He watched your face, taking in the slight pleasure you felt being at his mercy. Jeno tightened the hold on your neck slightly, earning a soft gasp from you.

"If you're gonna do something, do it," you grumbled.

"What if I wanna take my time with you hm? I bet you'd like that. I mean, you did 3 days ago," he teased. Jeno moved his hand from your ass to between your legs, rubbing you through your leggings. His brow arched at the sticky wet sensation covering his fingers through the fabric. "You aren't even wearing panties. It's like you came in here with the intention of me fucking you."

With one quick movement, Jeno's hand was in your leggings, rubbing you in circles slowly. "It's just funny that you're so quiet now. Make all those pretty noises you made for pretty boy." Jeno pressed his fingers harder into you. He watched as you began to lose yourself with that sweet sinister smile of his. You didn't stop him when he pulled your tank top up, immediately groping your left breast. "God I love these pretty tits."

Your panting was only getting faster, his hand on your clit rubbing you faster while fondling your breast, you could barely hear anything he was saying. You were gonna cum quick, all you needed was a little more and-

"I think I'll stop here. You seem to be enjoying yourself too much."

It's embarrassing how fast you stopped him from pulling his hand out your pants, forcing it back down to where it was before. "Jeno, please don't play around," you pleaded.

He snickered at your pleading, fingers immediately making their way back between your legs. Jeno slowly pushed two inside you, a shaky moan leaving your mouth. He pumped his fingers in you, kissing your lips softly. Having no idea what to do with your hands, you held onto his arms, biceps flexing in your hands. "Jeno," you moaned softly.

"You liked that hm," he said in your ear. "You like it when I touch you like this?"

"Y-yeah."

He fingered you faster, the palm of his hand stimulating your clit at the same time. You held onto his arms tighter, closing your eyes as you let your head fall on his shoulder. The moans and whimpers fell through your lips so easily under his touch. Between his hand on your chest and the one in your pants you could barely concentrate on your surroundings.

So when Jaemin suddenly opened the door when he was supposed to get home three hours from now, startled couldn't even begin to describe how you felt. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at your panicked face. Jeno kept going, not giving a single fuck of who just came in the apartment. But even though you were startled, no matter how compromising the position you were in was, it still managed to turn you on even more.

"Jesus, you're a slut aren't you," Jeno teased. "You love the fact that he came in here unannounced with my fingers in your pussy?"

You shook your head, burying your face in his neck. "S-shut up."

"Are we gonna do this now," Jaemin asked, finally breaking his silence.

You looked over at him, confusion and pleasure on your face. "Do what?"

"I guess we can. But I need her to cum first." Jeno and Jaemin were talking like you weren't even there, saying things you didn't even understand. But every time you thought to ask questions, a moan left your lips, making you squeeze his arm again. "Cum Y/N," he said in your ear lowly. "Cum for me."

Your legs are weak, the only thing holding your body up is Jeno's hand under you. He moves his hand faster, palm rubbing your clit harder. "S-shit.." You came hard, grasping his biceps for dear life before you fell into Jeno’s shoulder.

"I'll never get enough of that face," Jaemin mumbled, teeth toying with his lip as he watched you.

Jeno pulled his hand from your leggings, sticking his fingers in your mouth almost immediately. "Suck."

And you did, swirling your tongue around the digits like you were gonna get a grade for it. Jeno watched you, his usual smirk spreading on his face.

"Fuck, I can't watch this anymore." Jaemin walked over to both of you. Jeno moved out of the way, letting Jaemin pick you up and throw your body over his shoulder.

"Wait, what are you guys doing," you panic.

"Don't play dumb you know exactly what's going on," Jeno answered. They walked to your room, practically kicking the door open. You let out a tiny scream when Jaemin dropped you on your bed with no warning, looking at them completely lost.

"You're so cute, like a lost puppy," Jaemin said. He took his hoodie off, having nothing underneath it. Jeno made quick work of his own shirt, throwing it elsewhere in the room. "Are you gonna be good for us?"

"I-I.." you were in complete shock. This was something you fantasized about for way too long, touching yourself to the thought of both of them taking care of you at the same time. You craved it way more than they would ever know. But everything was happening way too fast. So when Jaemin pushed you down on bed, pulling your leggings off, it was like whiplash. Jeno took your tank off quickly, throwing it in a random place.

Jaemin sat himself behind you, leaning on your head board as he pulled your body to him. Your back was pressed against his chest as he wrapped his big arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled. He kissed your neck slowly while Jeno laid between your legs, mouth already attaching to your core.

You let out a small gasp as the feeling of Jeno’s mouth and the feeling of Jaemin's hands on your chest clouded your senses. Jeno ate you out like it was his last meal ever, not giving you enough time to recover from the prior activities in the kitchen. His tongue ravaged you, moans and groans sending vibrations to your clit like crazy. And Jaemin's constant kissing and humming against your skin was not making it better.

"You know I'm kind of a pervert," Jaemin whispered, a small smile on his lips. You were leaning on him, your head falling back on to his shoulder as Jeno worked his tongue on you. Jaemin stared down at the sight between your legs, eyelids getting heavy with lust watching the show in front of him. "I like to watch."

His fingers tweaked and pinched at your nipples, unholy noises spilling from your lips easily. He was growing harder and harder, his bulge rubbing on your ass. "Doesn't it feel good," he whispered in your ear. His soft voice sent butterflies to your stomach, a trembling breath unintentionally making its way out.

"Y-yeah."

"Tell him it feels good." Jaemin rolled your nipples in his fingers making you grip your blanket.

"I-it feels good Jeno," you moaned softly.

"Good girl. You're always so good for me." Jeno hooked his arms around your legs, tugging your body a little lower. Jaemin snickered at your surprised expression, hands still working on your chest. "God you're so cute."

Jeno's tongue moved faster, groaning softly against you constantly. You bit your lip starting to grind on his tongue. Your constant moans filled the room, every single sense becoming heightened when you feel yourself starting to approach your orgasm.

Jaemin tilted your head to him, kissing you messily. His tongue invaded your mouth, dancing with yours as Jeno kept going. He knew you were close, he could tell by the way your breathing was picking up and your trembling hands on the blanket. "You're close, aren't you baby," he mumbled on your lips.

You nodded fast, brows knitting when Jeno sucked your clit hard. Jaemin watched your face as your eyes rolled back and body tense at the sensation.

"Look at me when you cum okay?"

"O-oh my god," you moaned loudly. Your hand shot up to his wrist, squeezing it tightly as your body tense up even more. You couldn’t stop yourself, grinding on Jeno's tongue even harder as you came.

"That's it baby, keep looking at me with those pretty eyes." Jaemin kissed you, biting your lip softly as you moaned into his mouth. His hands left your chest, rubbing them down your naked body.

Jeno stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You always knew he had the body of a Greek god but goodness, it didn't hit you hard until now. Jeno tugged his sweats and boxers off, letting his length spring free. He was big, bigger than you thought. You've felt him through his pants many times on the occasions that he slipped behind you or something. But Jesus, it's nothing like seeing the real thing.

"Face down, ass up," Jeno ordered.

Clumsily, you pulled your body out of Jaemin's arms and flipped yourself over. Trying to get yourself on your knees, you slipped, face falling directly into Jaemin's lap. Jaemin gave you a soft chuckle, hand patting your head as you fixed yourself.

"Where's your condoms," Jeno asked.

"Fuck all of that. I need you Jeno," you whined. You subconsciously wiggled your hips, begging for him to take you right there. You've never been so needy for something in your life, but he managed to bring it out of you.

"You need me?" His tone was condescending and mean, but he had that sweet smile on his face. "How bad do you need me?" He took his length, guiding it up and down your slit.

"Real bad," you breathed out, pushing more against him. "So bad, I could die right now."

"You always had a way with words," he mumbled. Jeno pushed his tip into you slowly, making you smile at the stretch. His brows furrowed as he pushed the rest of himself in you, feeling you squeeze tightly around him.

"Fuck you're so big," you whined softly.

Jeno rocked his hips into you, every movement making you moan softly. Your head was between Jaemin's lap as he watched the other male fuck you from behind. You looked up, feeling a small tap on your head. Jaemin was looking down at you with a smirk on his face.

"You didn't think I was gonna let you and Jeno have all the fun did you?"

Lifting yourself on your elbows, moans and whines falling from your mouth as you pull Jaemin out his sweats. He was just a s big as Jeno, and he knew it. The way he was looking down at you, he knew you would have a hard time. Little did he know you liked having a hard time.

"Spit on it."

His words made you clench around Jeno, making the man behind you groan softly. You did as you were told, letting a ball of saliva fall from your lips onto his tip.

"You listen so well," Jaemin praised.

You were so fucked out of your mind at this point, you wanted nothing but to be praised by him. You licked around his tip, looking up at him for his approval with begging eyes. You sunk your head down more, getting more of him into your mouth, sucking him softly. Your brows furrowed, moaning on his length as Jeno started to speed up his thrust. Jaemin could happily die right here, one of his biggest fantasies unraveling in a way he never imagined. And you were just so open to letting him use you, to letting Jeno use you.

His lids hung low, soft moans and pants leaving his lips as you bobbed your head following Jeno's rhythm. "We should've done this ages ago," Jaemin mumbled, fingers running through your hair. He grasped it hard, following your movements with his hand, but if you kept going, he was surely going to cum in your mouth. Jaemin pulled you off of him slowly, knitting his brows at the loss of your mouth. "You're way too good at that," he huffed out.

Jeno's low grunts mixed with your moans and whimpers made Jaemin grow harder and harder every second. Jeno pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

"You love this don't you," Jeno breathed.

"Yeah." Your voice was shaky, about to break at any moment.

"All it took was my fingers to break you. God, you're a slut."

You needed more, and you couldn't take the sight of Jaemin sitting in front of you, hard length sitting there untouched. Jaemin's eyes shot to you as you took him in your mouth, immediately bobbing your head. "You really..must want me to cum in your mouth."

You pulled off of him, a string of spit connecting your mouth and his tip. "Y-yeah," you moaned. "Use me."

There was something in Jaemin's eyes that changed. Without a word he gasped as he pushed himself back into your mouth. You opened your mouth as far as you could letting him fuck your mouth like you were his own personal fleshlight. Your eyes were screwed shut, the impact of Jeno inside you and Jaemin constantly hitting the back of your throat sending you into a sensory overload. You were so sensitive, everything was starting to hurt, but it hurt so good.

You gagged, tears immediately gathering in your water line. Jaemin pulled you off him, breathing heavily seeing you caught and moaning at Jeno's movements. Spit was dribbling down your chin, but it's not like you could've known anyway. Not when Jeno was fucking you like he wanted to get you pregnant. You wouldn't mind it honestly, and you know he wouldn't either.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Jeno grunted through his teeth. He lifted his knee, one foot laying flat on the mattress to get a better angle. "Gonna cum deep inside this pretty pussy."

At this point you were sure you weren't going to be able to walk the next day or the day after that. You felt your body becoming tense, a tight ball forming in your stomach. "J-Jeno, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered loudly.

"Open your mouth."

Jaemin's voice startled you for a second, completely overtaken with the feeling of Jeno. You glanced down seeing Jaemin stroke himself fast. He looked so pretty when he was about to cum. The sweat glistened on his forehead, mouth hanging open, pretty pink cock pulsing in his hand. You opened your mouth, panting loudly feeling yourself come closer and closer to your orgasm.

And just as Jaemin came, letting the thick ropes of cum hit your tongue and face all over, so did you, squeezing tightly around Jeno like you were holding him in for dear life. Loud moans and whimpers bounced off the walls while your hands gripped your blanket so tight it hurt. But Jeno wouldn't stop, not until he came deep in you.

"How does a mini me running around here sound," he chuckled darkly.

"Good, so fucking good." You were delirious. You didn't even know what you were agreeing to at this point, not until he gripped your hips hard and painted your insides white. The panic didn't set in until 2 seconds later, your brows knitting in worry, but you also felt yourself liking it. You liked that he didn't pull out, and it felt so good. Like he owned you.

Your body slumped as Jeno pulled out of you, breathing heavily into your arms. You shuddered, feeling him push his seed back into you as it fell down your thighs.

Jaemin couldn't wait for you to catch your breath, getting up when Jeno moved off the bed behind you. Jaemin took your body, flipping you into your back with one quick movement.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he said, stripping completely naked in front of you.

You couldn't even speak, your throat was too sore to say anything and your brain was completely fried. Jaemin lifted your legs, spreading them gently.

"I'm not like him," he said, tone sweeter than you expected. "I won’t fuck you so rough." His eyes scanned your body, going from your cum covered face to your pretty chest, to your cunt. "But I will make you scream my name."

Jaemin lined his length with your core, pushing himself in you in one swift motion. You held your legs up, staring at where the both of you met. When Jaemin started thrusting into you, you couldn’t keep your voice down. Every movement he made felt like heaven. The raspy whimpers that left your mouth were music to his ears - it made him want to fuck you till your couldn't even remember your name.

"You're so good for me," he breathed, smiling when you nodded fast.

You looked beside you, seeing Jeno watch the both of you, touching himself. "Come here," you breathed.

Jeno bit his lip softly, doing what you said. You moved his hand, replacing it with your own as you lifted your head, wrapping your lips around his cock. You looked up at him, batting your lashes as you sucked him off. Jeno can't remember a time where he was turned on this much in his life. You were just so good, so weak, so careful even when you were being fucked way past your limit.

"She's still so tight after you fucked her open." Jaemin snapped his hips into you hard, making you groan loudly around Jeno. "What a fucking slut."

Jeno chuckled darkly looking at your desperate soft expression. It was funny to him, how you still managed to look cute and innocent with a dick in your mouth and cum on your face.

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as they both rocked into you at different yet quick paces, causing your mind to spin miles a minute. “God she’s so fucking good for us, taking both our cocks so well. You feel good baby?”

Jeno’s words caused you to shake in pleasure, moaning around him in response. There was no way you’d ever be able to feel this good with anyone else. You didn’t just feel good, you felt fucking euphoric.

“Fuck Y/N I’m so close” you let out a muffed cry as Jaemin’s hand found it’s way to your sensitive clit. Rolling and pinching it between his fingers. The desperation in Jaemin’s voice paired with your over sensitive body from your first orgasm created a whole new level of pleasure. You were close…And they both knew it.

The way you tightened around Jaemin and the high pitched moans breaking past your cock stuffed mouth was a dead giveaway. “Are you going to come for us again Y/N? Is being double stuffed making you feel good?” Something about the tone of Jeno’s voice was just what you needed to be sent over the edge.

Your orgasm shook through you in waves. “F-fuck I’m cumming Y/N. Take it well baby.” Jaemin rocked into you before stilling his hips. Shooting his seed deep into you with breathy groans.

Not being too far behind Jeno’s pace became sloppy. Once a consistent quick pace he now fucked your mouth with unsteady thrusts. Jeno held your head in place as he came in your mouth making sure you took every single drop he had to give. Once he was done he slowly pulled himself out of your mouth.

Jaemin pulled out of your pussy causing you to clench at the sudden loss of him. Suddenly your mind felt as if it was on autopilot. As you felt his cum leak out of your hole you pulled Jeno down into a heated kiss feeling him groan from the taste of him on your tongue. “Oh? Forgetting all about me now?”

Jaemin pouted as you pulled away from Jaemin weakly reaching out to the man. Smiling he leaned down kissing you passionately. “Did you have fun Y/N?” Not having too much energy left you nodded leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Cmon Y/N let’s get you cleaned up.”

The three of you would definitely need to have a conversation later about their little ambush but for now you think I’d be okay to let it slide.

#nct #nct u #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #nct scenarios #jaemin #jeno #jaemin oneshot #jaemin smut #jaemin imagines #jeno fanfic #jeno scenarios #jeno smut

[pearlywritings]

In father's embrace

synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 7.2k words

a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!

Ayato 

This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.

He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.

Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.

They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.

Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.

But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.

Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.

Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.

But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.

“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.

“Princess, where is your brother?”

Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.

“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.

“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”

“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.

“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.

When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.

“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”

They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.

“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”

“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”

The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.

Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.

“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.

“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”

And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.

Thoma

This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.

Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?

Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.

He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.

Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.

To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.

Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure. 

On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.

And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.

Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.

Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.

“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.

The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit. 

Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?

Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…

Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.

Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?

Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.

When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.

Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.

“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him. 

S V E E T S I R H E Y B T

And A P A P which he got from his lunch.

“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.

S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!

Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.

PAPA IS THE VERY BEST

“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”

Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".

Alhaitham and Kaveh

Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.

The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.

Alhaitham

Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.

He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.

And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.

As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness. 

By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.

Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.

Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.

“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”

Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.

“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”

“And I have questions why mine was declined!”

“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”

“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”

“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.

“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”

“You can’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”

Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.

Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.

“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.

“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.

“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”

“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”

You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…

“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”

“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”

“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.

“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”

“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”

“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”

Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”

Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.

As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.

Kaveh

Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).

As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).

From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees. 

When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.

Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.

But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what. 

Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.

On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.

Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.

Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.

"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.

The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.

"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.

"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?

"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."

Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.

"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."

"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."

"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."

"But mama says I am pretty like you."

"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.

"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."

Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.

"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."

Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.

When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.

You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again. 

He should take you on a date later this week.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."

Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.

“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.

“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.

“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”

“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”

“I love you too.”

Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.

The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.

Tighnari 

Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.

Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.

It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.

So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.

What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.

From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.

The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.

With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils. 

You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.

"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.

"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"

Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.

"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."

Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.

"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."

Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.

You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.

Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.

Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.

Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.

"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.

"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.

"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."

"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"

"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.

"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"

"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."

At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"

"Yes, daddy…"

"Yeah.."

"Mhm…"

"Sure, dad…"

And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #ayato x fem!reader #thoma x reader #thoma x fem!reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem!reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem!reader #kamisato ayato #thoma #alhaitham #kaveh #tighnari #genshin impact fluff

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | keisuke baji, kazutora hanemiya, manjiro sano, shuji hanma

NOTE | This is really short, I'm sorry! I'm not sure how I feel about it either, but I hope it's not too bad.

— BAJI.

Pretty much everyone in Toman knows Baji has a soft spot for you. They never miss an opportunity to tease him about it, telling him to make the first move, to stop staring like a creep and just ask you out already.

...What they don't know is that you and Baji have been secretly dating for months now.

Though you decided to keep your relationship a secret mainly to keep each other safe and avoid being exposed to unnecessary danger, you both find amusement in keeping your friends in the dark about your relationship. It became like a fun little game between you and Baji, sharing playful glances and knowing smiles whenever the others would tease him about his supposed crush.

You're pretty sure Chifuyu knows the truth, though. There's always a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he might be onto your secret, but he plays along, giving you both a nod of approval whenever he catches the subtle displays of affection between the two of you.

If you eventually decide to make your relationship public, Baji will have a field day teasing his friends for not noticing sooner that you were dating. He won't miss the chance to brag about being the one who won the 'prettiest Toman member's heart, even poking fun at those who once had a crush on you.

— KAZUTORA

In the middle of all those men, it wasn't easy for you to find your place in Valhalla.

You often kept to yourself, feeling like you didn't really belong here. You had effortlessly managed to prove your strength and loyalty to the gang so everyone respected you and treated you as an equal — but it still felt weird to be surrounded with so many men, each more violent and intimidating than the other.

But with Kazutora, there was an instant connection that set him apart from the others.

Before you knew it, you were having secret meetings away from the prying eyes of the gang, and what began as just a friendship soon turned into something more.

Kazutora's affection towards you in public is subtle yet genuine. The two of you always make sure to stand away from each other during meetings and gatherings so as to not awake suspicions, but Kazutora quietly keeps an eye on you from a distance, checking up on you without drawing attention to your connection.

During fights, this protectiveness manifests in small yet meaningful gestures. Even though he trusts in your ability to handle yourself, he'll gladly position himself as a shield between you and any potential threats. He's always ready to divert attention away from you or take the hit in your place —which you often scold him for.

While it goes mainly unnoticed by others you can always tell when he does things for you, just to protect you. Sometimes, you manage to steal a quick kiss from him when nobody's looking, leaving a flustered Kazutora behind you.

— MIKEY.

Mikey is incredibly protective of you, which quickly makes people wonder if there's something going on between you. You both deny it every time, but you're not sure how much longer you'll manage to hide it — you're pretty sure Mikey has already told Draken anyway. (or Sanzu — depends if we're talking about Toman or Bonten Mikey)

It really doesn't help his case that he's always turning down his friend's invitations to hang out in favor of spending time with you. He doesn't explicitly tell them that — and he tries to cover up the fact that he's going out with you by using the excuse of wanting to stay at home and rest— but it doesn't take a genius to figure out his real intentions. It's no coincidence that you and Mikey are always unavailable at the same time.

The gang playfully teases him about his 'resting' time when they see him the next day, not realizing that these moments with you go beyond him simply sneaking away to see his girlfriend.

Your meetings are what keeps Mikey grounded, the very last anchor in his life that prevents him from completely losing himself.

When the weight of the world gets too overwhelming for him to bear, you become Mikey's refuge — the only person capable of providing the comfort he seeks and calming his racing thoughts.

— HANMA.

Hanma is a master at this whole secret relationship thing.

He effortlessly hides his feelings and shows no sign of concern for you, even when you get hurt during a fight or are facing threats from others. To the outside world, he treats you just like any other guy in Valhalla, pushing you to get up and keep fighting —fully aware that you can handle yourself and need no savior.

While he may not shower you with affection in public, there's another side of Hanma behind closed doors that only you gets to see;

As soon as the two of you are alone, he's all over you, always holding you close and kissing you like there's no tomorrow, getting all cocky over the fact that he's the only one allowed to kiss you and touch you like he does.

Of course, don't think he'll let the men who hurt you get away with it.

The next day, Hanma will take the matter into his own hands and seek out whoever hurt or threatened you. He doesn't give any explanation as to why he beats them up, simply brushing it off and telling everyone that he "just felt like it."

#reader insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x you #kazutora x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #x fem!reader

[steveseddie]

of movie nights and holding hands

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 1,841

tags: eddie munson lives, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, holding hands, getting together, first kiss

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is asking ‘do you want a blanket?’” by @thefreakandthehair

a/n: i liked this prompt so much that i wrote two fics for it! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie tries hard to focus on the movie.

It shouldn’t be that hard since Top Gun is supposed to be a good movie. Tonight was the first time since movie nights at the Harrington residence became a thing that an argument didn’t break out amongst the group when they had to choose what to watch. Everyone just agreed. And even if the movie didn’t turn out to be good, Eddie would never waste the opportunity to ogle Tom Cruise for an hour and fifty minutes.

Except he is because, for the last thirty-two minutes, Eddie’s focus has been solely on Steve.

This isn’t the first time they sit next to each other during movie nights. More and more lately, they tend to gravitate toward the other whenever they hang out, and Eddie loves this as much as he hates it.

He loves being close to Steve, being able to whisper to him or touch him, or lean against him. But he hates how it makes him feel. How it makes his palms sweat or goosebumps appear on his skin. He hates it because he can’t let Steve know. Steve might’ve been cool about Eddie being gay and he’s cool with Eddie being touchy and loud and basically too much, but Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be cool with him having a huge hopeless crush on him.

(He probably would, though, because Steve is a good guy, the best guy Eddie knows, and he would let Eddie down easy and make sure nothing changes between them, but Eddie would still feel rejected and they might still end up drifting apart because he can’t handle that.

And Eddie would rather go against another army of Demobats than lose Steve.)

So Eddie tries hard to pay attention to the movie and be normal about the fact that Steve is basically sitting on top of him tonight.

They didn’t start the night like that. At first, it was just Steve, Eddie, and Robin on the couch with plenty of space to sit comfortably. But then Max and Lucas got into an argument- a childish quarrel really- that will probably be forgotten by the end of the night, but still she demanded that they open a spot for her on the couch since she didn’t want to sit with Lucas and the others on the floor anymore. To do that, Steve had to move closer to Eddie, pushing him against the arm of the couch and trapping him between it and his body. Max sits cross-legged next to him which leaves Steve with little to no room for his legs, so one of his thighs overlaps with Eddie’s, same with their arms. And of course, Eddie, who always dresses in multiple layers, decided to only wear a shirt and his battle vest tonight, meaning that his bare arm is touching Steve’s and every time he so much as wiggles trying to get comfortable, a shudder runs through Eddie’s spine.

He thinks Steve is too focused on the movie to notice, but halfway through it, he feels Steve shift closer (and how does he keep getting even closer?) and whisper right into Eddie’s, making the hairs on his neck stand up. “Do you want a blanket, Eds?”

“What?” Eddie asks. It comes out as a squeak. So much for acting normal.

“You keep shivering. Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”

The thing is Eddie isn’t cold. Eddie feels warm all over actually, but he can’t tell Steve that the reason why he keeps shuddering or why he’s getting goosebumps is him.

So he says, “Uh, yeah. I could use a blanket.”

He expects Steve to get up so he can get it or to tell Eddie where to find one. Instead, he lifts the blanket that he placed across his lap when the movie started and drapes it across Eddie’s body too, shifting even closer to him.

“Better?” Steve asks with a sweet smile. Bless his clueless heart.

Eddie wants to scream “No, it’s not!” but instead, he just gives him a shaky smile that he hopes looks genuine and nods. Then he shoves his hands under the blanket so he can anxiously play with his rings without Steve noticing, feeling restless and jumpy at having Steve so close. After a moment, he sees Steve do the same out of the corner of his eye. Maybe his hands are cold.

Steve stays still after that, and Eddie can somewhat focus on the movie.

That is until he feels Steve’s pinkie finger brush against his under the blanket.

When it does, Eddie yelps, his leg jerking and kicking Lucas who sits on the floor right in front of him. He feels Steve withdraw his hand like he got burned.

“Dude!” Lucas protests.

“Sorry, Sinclair, uh. Muscle spasm,” Eddie mutters. The other kids give him weird looks but thankfully they go back to the movie.

Whispering so he doesn’t bother the others, Steve says, “Uh, sorry. It was- uh, it was an accident.”

“All good, Steve-o.”

Steve gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s lying, but then it would mean that his hand touching Eddie’s wasn’t an accident, but a deliberate move.

But why?

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Steve looks nervous. He’s biting his bottom lip and there’s a divot between his eyebrows, his cheeks are also tinted bright pink.

So Eddie thinks, fuck it! and moves his hand under the blanket, hooking his pinkie finger with Steve’s.

Steve’s reaction is definitely more subdued than Eddie’s was, but Eddie still hears him gasp. He glances at Eddie, big doe eyes wide and a little hopeful, and Eddie feels like throwing up because holy shit, Steve Harrington was, in fact, deliberately trying to touch his hands and now their pinkies are linked. If it weren’t for the fact that the blanket offers them the cover that they need to do this, Eddie would toss it away. He feels like could burst into flames any minute.

Soon, it’s not just their pinkies touching. Soon, the tip of Steve’s remaining fingers find Eddie’s. He waits for a second, probably to see if Eddie is gonna jump again, but when he doesn’t, Steve tangles their fingers together and gives Eddie’s hand a little squeeze. And Eddie wants to scream, he wants to melt into the couch, he wants to kiss Steve, the kids and Robin be damned.

He doesn’t. He stays still except for his thumb which starts rhythmically stroking over Steve’s knuckles. Eddie hears his breath catch and sees his blush spreading up to his ears. At least he’s not the only one affected by this.

Neither of them is paying attention to the movie at this point, too focused on playing with each other’s hands and biting down on their dopey smiles.

Eddie doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want this bubble that they created under this blanket to burst. He’s afraid Steve won’t want to hold Eddie’s hand ever again if it does.

But eventually, the movie does end. The end credits start to roll and the kids spring to their feet, stretching and talking excitedly about the movie. Eddie hopes they don’t ask him anything about it, he couldn’t tell them the names of three characters if he tried.

“Did you like it?” Steve asks quietly.

“The- movie?”

Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think we both know you didn’t pay attention to the movie, Eds.”

Eddie feels the blood that rushes to his cheeks at being called out. “Well, I was distracted,” he murmurs, thumb flicking over Steve’s knuckle one more time just to see Steve’s eyes widen a little and his lips part.

“Yeah? By what?” He asks, his voice sounding a little strained to Eddie’s ears.

“A pretty boy holding my hand.”

Steve whines low in his throat. Eddie is glad that the kids are being loud and that they’re focused on each other instead of them.

He continues, “Which I liked. A lot. And uh- I would like to do it again.”

“Me too,” Steve says with a shy smile. God, Eddie wants to kiss him stupid.

“Eddie!”

He jumps when Max calls his name. He and Steve both let go of each other’s hand at the same time, but keep them under the blanket.

“What?”

Max’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “The movie is over? We have to leave now if we want to make it home before curfew.”

“Oh. Sure thing, Mad Max.”

She narrows her eyes at him and Eddie tries to look innocent, not like he spent the last eighty minutes holding another boy’s hand. He’s not so sure that he nails it.

Together, they quickly gather the blankets and the pillows and stuff them into the hallway closet. With Nancy skipping tonight’s movie night and Robin still having no license, it’s up to Eddie to drop everyone off, and unless they leave right now, they’re gonna be late like Max said.

That doesn’t stop Eddie from running back to the house after everyone already piled up inside the van, claiming that he forgot something.

After he knocks on the door, Steve opens it with a confused frown that melts into a smile when he sees Eddie.

“Did you forget something, Munson?”

“I did actually,” Eddie says and for the second time that night, he thinks fuck it! and surges forward, pushing his lips against Steve’s in a quick kiss.

Steve yelps, but Eddie feels the softest press of lips from him before he backs away.

Before Eddie can spiral because oh, god he just kissed Steve, Steve is grabbing him by the lapels of his vest and pulling him toward him. They both stumble back into the house a couple of steps, just enough so they’re hidden from view and Steve can kiss Eddie for longer and a little more forcefully this time.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Steve asks when they pull apart.

“To watch a movie?” He asks. Steve licks his lips and Eddie’s eyes track the movement. “Or not watch a movie?”

Steve smirks. “The second one.”

Eddie nods enthusiastically. “It’s a date,” he says with a grin that Steve mirrors.

They jump when the horn of his van blares, probably waking up a few of Steve’s neighbors.

Eddie makes a face. “Gotta go or the brats are gonna be late.”

“Drive safe,” Steve says, giving the vest a little tug.

“Always do, Stevie,” he says, giving him a two-fingered salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Eds,” Steve says with a dopey smile. Eddie starts walking backwards.

And if he trips on the steps because he’s too busy watching Steve and almost falls on his ass, then at least it’s just Steve who sees it.

And at least, he does it with a sweet smile painted on his puffy pink lips that Eddie just kissed.

#steddielovemonth #day 25 #two fics for the same prompt hehe i just love these two so much #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson

[livwritesstuff]

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter. 

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and  then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

#idk what this is #ur a real one if you know who moe is talking about lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #flufffic