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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months

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Would you be willing to write a Miguel x Spider!Reader oneshot where they’re arguing over something the reader did on a mission. And in the heat of an argument, Miguel yells “Because I love you!” at the perfectly wrong time, revealing why he cares about the reader’s safety.

‘What the hell was that back there. You could’ve jeopardised the whole mission with that reckless stunt you pulled back there!’ Miguel barked, ripping off mask the first moment moment he could; Hellfire were setting ablaze to his beautiful scarlet eyes that were zeroed in on you as the anger, the frustration upon his face became prominent the more he closed the distance between you.

‘When will you let this go, Miguel. When we became Spider-Man we knew the risks that we were running with-‘ ‘so you thought it’d be better to take a running head start by taking the leap and then diving headfirst into them?!’ Miguel cuts you off and with an indignant huff he adds, ‘you don’t get extra points for being reckless, this isn’t some little game that you can just come back to when you feel like it. No, what we do is a full time commitment with no room for last minute deviations just because you were feeling more heroic.’

You grit your teeth. You respected Miguel, you truly did and at one point in time you wanted to do right by his little rule book of how to be a great hero. However you soon learned that it’s better to play by your own rules rather then it was to play by those made by others and slowly but surly found a method that worked for you. For no two methods were the same when it came to protecting and saving people but if they both end in the same conclusion, then no one should be able to raise an issue with it. At the end of the day you and Miguel saved people from a much bigger problem if left unchecked; so why was it that all of a sudden he had an issue with your methods?

It never upset him this much before, so why now. Did he think you as incapable? As unreliable? As untrustworthy to fully let you handle a situation on your own? Whatever it was it only proved in pissing you off despite your semi-injured state; you didn’t care that you’ve gotten hurt, you’ve gotten hurt plenty of times before and he never once batted an eye or exemplified his emotions as he did as of right now. You could barely get a read on the guy as he stood mere feet away, chest heaving even though he wasn’t out of breath, eyes wide and his hair slightly disheveled from the way he had torn off his mask earlier.

And yet you couldn’t help but find him beautiful in his anger, for it was like witnessing the makings of a Greek tragedy; beautifully written, yet so heartbreakingly tragic.

‘Why does it matter?’ You spat, getting up, despite your injured leg’s desire to buckle beneath the weight of not only you but the situation at hand. You saw the briefest movements of Miguel’s arms almost stretch out to instinctively catch you but stopping midway through the motion before going slack at his sides once more; as though remembering why he was mad at you in the first place. ‘It never mattered before, so why does it matter now? You don’t hound the others for doing it so why is it me that’s getting shit on for doing the same when I ain’t the first to do so!’

‘Because I love you!’ Miguel exclaimed.

The silence afterwards was almost deafening. Miguel’s outburst quieted you quickly as a thousand and one thoughts raced in your head; how long? why now? Was this merely a ruse to silence you so he could badger on at you for your supposed mistake? You didn’t know what to make of anything anymore now that he said that. You didn’t want to believe it for starters on the basis that not once had he ever shown interest in you, if anything he made it apparent to push you away or avoid you entirely from any and all interaction, and even when he did it was comprised of short responses that left the attempts at conversation to die as an overwhelming awkwardness forced you into leaving him be.

‘What?’

‘I love you.’ Miguel repeated, softer this time.

‘I get that but why-‘ ‘haven’t I shown it until now? As stupid as it sounds but I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me and look where you are,’ he gestured to your injured state, ‘hurt because of me.’ He adds defeatedly. You were about to open your mouth when Miguel raised a hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished, ‘I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe me when I say that I love you. I avoid you like the plague and I push you away whenever I see you starting to get too close and respond in a clipped tone of voice so that you’d loose interest and move on to talk to someone else.’

He stopped talking to move in closer to you, grasping you by arms with a firm grip as all the anger in his face seemingly having been melted away. The raging hellfire that once consumed his scarlet eyes in their entirety had been diminished to that of dying ambers, unveiling his admiration, his worry, his guilt and most importantly, his love; the sneer now long gone was replaced by a softer more tender expression that didn’t hide away the worry lines that were deeply etched into his skin. ‘I don’t deserve you, I’m not worth having you because sooner or later you’ll see me the way I’ve always seen myself and I’d rather you be as far away as possible when that happens.’ Miguel said, making sure he was maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to prove that he was being wholeheartedly genuine, not wanting to lie to you about something as personal as his feelings; He’s done that for long enough, Miguel knew his breaking point was upon the incline and seeing you act the way you did during the mission only fast forward it.

‘Yet for some inexplicable reason I can’t stop myself for wanting to protect you, to make sure you’re safe, to make sure that you never come to harm. At first I thought it was because I was looking out for a teammate, making sure you didn’t slip up and cause more potential problems for the rest of us, making sure that you didn’t let a single perpetrator slip but soon I learnt it was far more then just simply looking after a teammate...’ Miguel paused to blink away the images regarding of the nightmares he’d get concerning you, which were few and far between but those times were enough to suffocate him with fear. ‘It was something more and I grew scared, I grew scared because I know what it’s like to loose it all but for some reason I also knew that loosing you would just be the nail in the coffin for me.’

Miguel admits as he presses his forehead against your own, his hands trailing from up your arms until they’re caressing the skin of either side of your neck between calloused thumbs. He closing his eyes and allows himself to breath you in, reminding himself that you were here and that he managed to get to you before anything else could, that he kept you safe, not from all harm but at least from some of it and that was good enough but he knew deep down that he needed the do better. ‘Don’t make me imagine a life without you,’ he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours just that tiny bit harder as his fingertips found their home where your pulse points were to remind him that you weren’t gone completely from his grasp, ‘for I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand that reality.’

‘You don’t have to.’ You told him softly, lifting your hands to caresses the skin of his cheeks and feeling him effectively melt within your hold. ‘Not anymore.’

#spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagines #Miguel o’hard fic #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse x reader

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Three

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Flirting. Emotional hurt/comfort. Panic attack. PTSD. Comfort. "You'll be with him?"

“-nna let ‘im die out here-“

“-is too risky without adequate-“

Johnny is drowning in a sea of shattered voices, whispers of words that sound like they might be coming from Gaz, or Price, hushed prayers and promises, jargon he doesn’t understand washing over him from unfamiliar, clinical mouths.

It’s overwhelming. He can hardly get his eyes to open, and when he does, they stay half shut for what feels like hours, even though he knows, logically, it’s mere seconds.

He’s no longer strapped into a backboard, but a bed, and the ceiling is not metal and rivets, but white and canvas, voices competing with the constant sound of beeping.

“Soap.” Price leans into his line of sight, hat gone, exhausted. He’s holding a sat phone, the one they usually carry during missions in one hand, a file folder in another. He looks his age, Johnny thinks, for the first time in his career. Looks like he’s spent eons in combat, like he hasn’t had a full night’s rest in a decade. “John. You’re in the hospital on base.” At the use of his government name, Johnny tries to straighten on instinct. The soft, floating feelings he’s been having for the past who knows how long have faded, and his body is starting to feel like it’s been pumped with gasoline, and then lit on fire. From the inside. “Are you with me, Sergeant?” He tries to vocalize, tries to say yes, or nod, but can hardly get his neck to work, bones and ligaments and everything in him screaming in agony. “They want to take you in a flight for life, get you home to a top hospital. Simon's already agreed, but he- he wants to speak with you.” Price wrenches his fingers open and lifts the clunky satellite phone to his face. “I rang him, on the emergency line, at home. Just… you need to-“ he stops, chest heaving with a desperate breath, an indulgence of emotion that Johnny has never seen. His captain wants to tell him- you need to say goodbye, just in case. But he can’t find the words, and Johnny can’t make it fit in his head, the reality, the stark reminder that he could not be here, in a moment. Or an hour. A day. “Open your eyes, John. Stay awake.”

“Johnny.” The Manchester accent crackles through the receiver. Johnny can almost see him, cell pressed to his face, pacing in the living room. He wonders if he’s got the fireplace lit, if it’s chilly now that it's turning to winter, if there’s been frost on the windows of their little house. If Simon is wearing a pair of sweatpants, if he’s got the television on as he tries to make dinner. “Johnny. Sit rep.” The status check comes through harsh, but the truth is tucked away beneath the grit. Fear. Life altering, heart breaking fear drenches every syllable that spills from his partner.

Pain sizzles through his muscles, across his brain, but he swallows it, shoves it down into a dark hole for another minute.

“Pretty banged up.”

“They’re going to lift you to a hospital,” He thinks he knew that. “and you’re goin’ be alright. I’ll meet you there.”

“Ah love ye, Si.” It’s all he can say. All he can think about. The excruciating agony that is radiating through his body robs him of everything else.

“I love you too. Hang on.” Johnny grinds his jaw, blowing short breaths through his nose to try to control his pain response, and then holds his breath when soft babbles echo through the phone. “It’s Da, Pen. It’s Da. Can you say Da?”

“Da?” Penny mimics her dad, and Johnny wonders if they’re sitting on the couch, Penelope tucked up against Simon’s chest, wispy curls tickling just below his nose as she climbs all over him like a jungle gym.

“Ma wee lamb.” Johnny whispers. “Ah love ye, Pen.” There’s more babbling, half strung together words, more than appropriate for a fourteen-month-old, and Johnny’s temples shine with tears that drip from the corners of his eyes. There’s talking, around him, people bustling back and forth. A hand brushes against skin, sharp pinch squeezing along the inside of his arm.

“Can you say, I love you?” Simon encourages, but Johnny knows it’s a lost cause.

“When she’s old enough to understand, ye tell her Ah loved her, loved her so much. Ye an’ her, is all I ever wished fer.”

“Stop.” Simon breathes. “You’re going to be fine.”

There’s another poke in his arm, someone lighting a fire in his veins, and he loses the battle to his eyes once more.

Your neck grumbles in protest when you try to twist it, working out tight muscle and tendon, rolling it across your shoulders and down, back and forth, over and over again.

You should go home.

You know you should. It’s two hours past seven, you should already be home. Should already be in your flat, showering the workday off and crawling into bed. You could be having a tea, snuggled up in your sweatpants, moving playing on low in the background. Warm, safe. Nearly asleep.

Johnny twitches beside you. His fingers clench in the blankets and then relax, face smoothing out in his dreams. The mask is gone, replaced with the cannula that loops beneath his nose, and the monitor beeps in soothing, reassuring, stable tones. One chime right after another, relaying his vitals to where you sit in Simon’s chair, feet slung over the side, kindle in your lap.

You made a promise.

And even without that promise, for some reason, you couldn’t just leave Johnny here to wake up alone. The idea of him coming to and being confused, or scared, again, made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Even before you promised Simon to stay earlier, you already knew.

You wouldn’t be leaving.

“He’s had a seizure.” Simon’s eyes widen above the mask and then flatten into something harder, something almost distrusting. “Neuro’s done an exam and they’re of the opinion there will be no long-term deficits, but we’ll need to wait until he wakes to be sure. They’re still trying to figure out what caused it, but most likely it's a result from surgery.” He moves to shoulder by you, no doubt trying to beeline back to Johnny’s room, but you hold your hand up with a pause. “I can’t let you go back in there yet.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not awake.”

“I don’t-“

“Simon, this is the ICU. I don’t know who or what strings you pulled to even be allowed to sit with him in there twenty-four seven, but it’s not the norm. You won’t be allowed back in that room until we are sure he is stable.” You don’t tell him that you don’t want him to be there when Johnny wakes in case there are deficits, that you’re trying to save him from the pain, the heartbreak, of seeing things that patient’s loved ones are not meant to see.

He regards you silently, and you fidget under the scrutiny, waiting for him to speak, trying to ignore how your mouth is going dry. This isn’t the first he’s watched you like this, stared at you like he’s trying to pick you apart, and you swallow your grimace until the long moment passes, his voice low, gritty with stress. Exhaustion.

“I’m supposed to go home today for a bit. I… don’t want to leave ‘im.”

“You can still go. He’s sleeping for now, and when he wakes, they’ll have to do some more tests that you won’t be allowed in the room for anyway.” He looks down the hallway towards Johnny’s room, before his eyes find yours, heavy with grief, indecision.

“You’ll be with him?” He can’t hide the hopeful inflection at the end of his question, his need for a light in the dark of this situation.

“I-“ The thought didn’t occur to you, to not be there. You imagined you’d wait until Johnny was cleared by neuro and Simon was allowed back in the room, but the morning has dragged on, and he’s been sleeping peacefully. There’s been no desire to wake him unnecessarily. “Yes. I’ll stay with him. I promise.”

“He go home?” Johnny’s voice, scratchy from sleep and medication and everything else, startles you from a half doze, spine straightening into a rod before you’re leaping to your feet, leaning over his prone figure.

“You’re awake.” You find his good hand, slipping two fingers into his grip. “Can you squeeze my hand?” When he does, tightly, more strength in it than you were expected, you give him an honest, happy smile, and retreat to the end of the bed, flipping up his blanket to poke at the bottom of his feet. “Can you feel that?”

“Aye.”

“And this?”

“Aye.” He huffs at you, impatient. “Did he go home?” You sigh in response, hand on your hip.

“Yes.”

“Finally. Been tellin’ him he had to. The man’s back ‘s not made to sleep sittin’ up.”

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t want to leave. I told him I’d sit with you.” You reach over to press the page button, looking intentionally away from where those bright blue eyes track you, sweet and soft and open, lips slightly parted. “How’s your pain? I’m not on the clock any longer, so I can’t page the neurologist, but they’ll have come and do a few tests.”

“Ye wanted to sit with me, pretty girl?” Your face gets hot, blood pooling beneath your skin, pit of your stomach liquifying into something honeyed and potent that flows through your veins until you swear you can feel the room getting warmer.

“How’s your pain?” you repeat your question, words dumb on your tongue.

“A five.” You raise an eyebrow. “Alright, a seven. And a half.” The days nurse knocks with perfect timing, all hustle and bustle, bright and cheery, and asks Johnny the same questions, keeping up a perfect stream of small talk between you and Johnny until Neuro is standing at the foot of his bed, and you’re excusing yourself.

“Okay, I’m-“

“Dinnae leave.” He protests, voice quiet. Your stomach lurches at the vulnerability there, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“I’m just going to get a tea.” You promise, even though you know he’ll probably be half loopy by the time you’re back, and the dayshift nurse gives you a nod, acknowledgement of his state, an understanding that she’ll be here with him.

Not an hour later, your pocket chimes with a text from the dayshifter as you half sip your tea, letting you know that Johnny’s exam is done, and as you pass her in the hallway, she gives you verbal confirmation of what you were hoping for: his brain function is normal. He’ll have to go for CT later, but she’s just given him another dosage for pain management. You yawn in the middle of her pass-on, and she tells you that she'll keep an eye on him. You can go.

She's not wrong.

You need to go to bed.

You know your presence at your patient's bedside won't be viewed as unprofessional, since others have done it in far less severe situations, but the pendulum your emotions swing on every time you step foot in that room leaves you with a sinking feeling that's starting to crawl across your skin.

You wanted this. You wanted to stay with him.

Simon asked you stay with him.

Yeah, but for how long? He cannot expect you to spend all day here. You have to go to bed. Are you just going to leave him all alone? Are you going to wait for Simon to come back?

The dread spiral is easily answered when you slide open the glass door and lay eyes on the very handsome man from the other night, the younger one from the chair vigil, now sitting beside Johnny, the two of them softly chuckling.

When Johnny spots you, he manages to fire off your name as a half-effort introduction, more than expected considering his slowly slipping state of consciousness.

“I’m Kyle. Soap an’ I work together.” Soap? Who is Soap?

“She doesnae know me b’ Soap, only calls me Johnny.” He explains your confused look, to which Kyle raises an eyebrow.

“Wow. Letting your nurse call you Johnny, eh? Simon better-“

“Ach, stop.” He rolls his eyes, but sleep tugs his lids downward.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You give Johnny and his monitor a once over, catching yourself on his sweet, sleepy gaze, flushed face and lazy smile, before directing your attention back to Kyle. “I told Simon, I’d sit with him for a bit before he got back, but…”

“I’m here in his place.” Kyle explains, motioning to the chair, and you breathe a small sigh of relief. You will get to go home and get some sleep, after all.

There’s a woman with a confused look on her face just outside the elevator. She looks exhausted, skin raw under her eyes, clutching a baby who’s maybe a year, or a bit older, in her arms, glancing up and down the hall before she spots you.

Fuck. You’re still wearing your scrubs.

“Hi.” You smile, and she visibly relaxes, obviously relieved. The baby tucks her face into the woman’s chest like she’s shy, coyly looking at you from corner of her eye. “You look lost.”

“I’m looking for the nurse’s station. My husband was supposed to meet me here but he’s running late and I-“

“It’s all the way down, take the first left, and it will be at the end of that hallway.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She glances at your ID, punctuating her gratitude with your name, and you give her another smile, leaning to extend towards the baby as well.

“So cute.” You tell her, pressing the elevator button with a ding.

“Cute. But she’s a little terror, especially when she’s missing her Da.” She grumbles, and then waves, setting off against the white tile as you laugh to yourself. Pretty much sums kids up. Cute little terrors.

A week passes easily, beds and rooms changing over, room two sixty-eight remaining a constant. Johnny takes his battles on the chin, burn debridement on his side, casting for his wrist, removal of his chest tube, a third surgery.

“He’s a fighter.” Simon tells you one night in the dark after he’s slipped off to sleep. “Always has been. He's strong. Spirited.”

“I can see.” You agree, holding out the extra blanket you’ve pulled from a cabinet. When Simon takes it, his eyes meet yours, something soft shining in them, and you give him a smile in return.

“Thank you.” He murmurs. “For everything.”

A few days later, you’re surprised, and secretly pleased, to find Simon in the café.

He’s standing in front of the counter, paying for what you think might a baked good of some kind, sweet lady behind the register eyeing him up suspiciously as he deposits the note into her hand, and you stay on the outside of the doors, lingering in the hallway, watching.

At least he’s eating something. He’s still wearing the mask, and although it’s not uncommon, especially in a hospital setting, it does give you pause. Does he wear it all the time? Is it just because this is a hospital? He observes the room, steadily taking in all of the people meandering about, some eating, some standing, making their selections, engaging in conversation, and you notice how his hand slides to the back of his neck, distractedly rubbing the hair at his nape before he makes his escape, long legs eating up the distance between him and the door, him and… you.

“Hi.” You squeak when he steps into the hall, turning the corner to find you standing there like a deer in headlights, your water bottle clutched in one hand, phone in the other. His head tilts, eyes narrowed, and you manage to give him a half smile. “Getting something to eat?”

“It’s for Johnny.” He notes. “I ah, had something to eat earlier. When I was home.” Oh, good. Being in the hospital twenty-four seven isn’t healthy for anyone. Not even patients.

“Cool.” Cool? What is this, a pub? You swallow your embarrassing, awkward acknowledgement, breezing past the word like it didn’t happen. “Well, I’m about to badge in, so I’ll see you in a bit?” He nods, eyes still trained on your face, and you beat back the heat that’s spreading through your body like a fever when they drift down to your shoulders, and then to your badge.

“Cute sticker.” He points to where it’s clipped to your top, shiny bunny sticker from a patient’s child still there, holographic print sparkling in the dusk.

“Oh, thanks. Another patient of mine has a little kid. I was hanging out with him for a bit yesterday.”

“Suits you.” His gaze dips downward, glancing over the curve of your hip, plush from the swell of your ass, taut pull of your scrubs all of the sudden feeling too tight, too stretched across your waist, and you scramble to make sense of his comment.

“A bunny?” Your brows raise in disbelief, confusion, but he only nods, head tilted slightly, posture broad. Your brain turns over, frantically trying to think of a response, something clever, but he continues to talk, clearing his throat with a question.

“What do you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?” Huh?

“What?”

“A receding hare-line.” Wait. What? Is he… joking with you? Your mouth drops into a little o of part surprise, part confusion, before you squint at him in disbelief.

“Oh… my god. That’s…”

“’s not that bad.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, giving you the impression that he might be smiling beneath the mask, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating.

“It’s pretty bad.” You croak, nervous laughter bubbling up in the back of your throat. “Well, I… uh-“ His phone dings, pulling his focus to the screen, and he swipes out something quickly with his thumb.

“I’ll see you up there.” He jerks his head towards the elevator, and you mumble out a mild, flabbergasted reply.

“Alright... yeah.”

Your first break comes up fast. Your morning, everyone’s evening, is busy, with a code, a tricky vent, and a needy, elderly man in two fifty-two. It goes from busy to worse, an argument with the pharmacy heating your blood, spurring anger through your veins and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep from berating the poor tech at the window. Useless. You seethe in your mind all the way back up to your floor, frustration driving you to seek solace, eager to escape the eyes of the hospital, running away from the possibility of being noticed.

But supply closet 2b is occupied, a frazzled resident huffing into a pillow in the back, hyperventilating with tear-stained cheeks.

Without even fully realizing, you find yourself inside two sixty-eight, Simon’s sharp eyes falling upon you with scrutiny. He looks at Johnny’s monitor like something might be amiss, relaxed posture straightening into something tense, structured. There’s a card game in progress on the swivel tray table over Johnny’s lap, the glaring reality of your interruption, and you blanche.

You’re immediately incredibly embarrassed. What are you even doing in here?

“Miss me already?” Johnny coos, beaming, and your throat feels dry. He’s feeling the best he has since he got here, albeit not great, still in awful pain, still staring down the barrel of more surgeries, but the pain medication from earlier is working its way through his system, and you’re happy to see it’s taking the edge off it all for him, allowing him comfort and conversation with his partner.

“My um… usual break spot is occupied?” You don’t know why you phrase it as a question, it just comes naturally. Like you’re seeking permission. Agreement.

“Ye want to sit with us? While ye eat?” Johnny asks, somewhat pointing to your yogurt cup, and you shrug, but Simon motions to the extra chair, the one that now sits on the other side of the bed, across from him. Guess facilities finally brought down that recliner you requested.

“Would… would that be alright?”

Johnny looks to Simon, and Simon nods. Slowly.

Your yogurt goes down easy, light chit chat bouncing around the room, Johnny nodding in and out with drawn out answers to your questions, until a noise startles you from the chair, pushing you onto your feet to peer out the door.

It’s a man, yelling, screaming, from a room down the hall, not from sadness or despair, but rage, and your mind goes haywire when security is paged over the PA system.

Deep breath.

This happens sometimes. Patients, or loved ones, become disruptive. Secrets and lies all come out in the wash in a hospital. Custody agreements, battles, DNRs, last wills and testaments, any of these things are a perfect tinder box. One match, and it all goes up.

A siren blares.

“Code black, code black.” echoes through the hospital, each room on every floor, down every hall.

Johnny startles from his near sleep stupor, eyes alert, the outline of his muscles solid beneath his gown.

Security risk. Lockdown.

You straighten your spine.

Deep breath.

This is your job.

Part of your job is being able to handle things like this. Protect, take care of your patients, and their families. Keep them safe.

The man shouts again, sharp tone of anger snapping through the air and across your frame, forcing your muscles tense.

You slide the door lock into place, pulling the curtain to only allow a small line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Simon stands, turning towards the door, and Johnny pats his hand, like he’s trying to soothe him.

“Oh, uh. It’s… just a lockdown. I don’t know.” You’re vaguely aware of the numb feeling that’s spreading from your chest down into your hand, and the sound of the irate man gets closer. Fuck.

“Ye okay?” Johnny’s voice is gentle, and when you glance over your shoulder to reassure them, you realize they’re both watching you, Simon’s eyes locked onto your now trembling fist, as Johnny regards you softly, with kindness.

“Um. Yeah.” You suck in a quick breath, forcing yourself to steady, gritting your teeth against the frozen, involuntary fear that’s trying to overpower you. You think Simon might be frowning beneath the mask, confusion shading his question.

“Why are you standing at the door?”

“It’s standard operating procedure. If there’s an issue, or a disturbance. If you’re in a patient’s room, if I- I’m in a patient’s room, I’m supposed to act like a… barrier. Just in case.” You keep your eyes fixed out the glass, watching for any sights, listening for any sounds. The door is locked, and glass is thick, and security would be here if anything were to happen, they’re already down the hall, everything is fine. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep-

“Go sit with Johnny.” Simon's standing just behind you, voice pitched low, sweetened into one of those softer hums, the kind of tone he usually uses with Johnny. Not with you. He’s so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and you shake your head with a refusal.

“I have to stay-“ He cuts you off, not even letting you choke out the rest of your quivering protest.

“No. Go sit with Johnny.” He pauses, stepping around to angle his body in front of yours, looking down at you over his shoulder, and you think, for a moment, you see a glimmer of the tenderness there that’s reserved for Johnny. “Please.”

“My wrist hurts.” Johnny calls hopefully to you, mischievous smile and eyes sweet, his good hand outstretched with an open palm. “Need ye to rub it.” Simon nods, serious look quashing any rebuttals you might have, protocol and procedure slipping far from your mind as you let yourself drift to Johnny’s side, settling back into your seat previously abandoned. Johnny offers you his wrist, smile fading when he looks closer at your curled fingers. “Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

“Low blood sugar.” You lie. The man in the hallway shouts again, closer, loud and awful, roiling with rage, and you inadvertently tense, jolting minutely in the chair.

“Hey now.” Johnny reaches for you, gentle touch against your skin, warm fingers holding onto yours. You look down to where he tries to give you comfort, where he tries to soothe you, instead of the other way around, as it has been, as it should be, and you get lost in it, the idea of comfort, the feeling of care. It makes your heart stumble in your chest, almost like you can’t breathe, staring off into space, trying to pretend like there isn’t a man screaming down the hall, like you’re not the person you are, buried beneath the insurmountable weight of scars, memories of pain and fear etched into the very tissue of your brain, the backs of your eyelids, every strand of hair.

Ingrained inside of you, forever.

Someone says your name, and you blink back to the face of your patient, who looks to Simon, his expression unreadable until it shifts into tender warmth, re-focused on you. “What is it?”

“I-“ You picture yourself, letting your lips go loose, entrusting your secrets and worst fears to these strangers, these men who you don't even know, who don't know you. “I’m exhausted.” You offer, and shadow flickers across Johnny’s eyes. It’s not a lie, not technically. You’re always exhausted.

“Ye-“

“Code black lifted. Code black lifted. Lockdown complete. Resume normal operation.” The PA system drones, tension between your shoulders draining, and you jump to your feet, palms and fingers smoothing over your scrub top.

“Well, I’ve got to check in at the nurses’ station now. Protocol.” You explain, nearly tripping over yourself on the way to the door. Your heart is still raging inside your chest, beating faster than it should, and you steady your breathing with a mental count. One... two... three... one... “I’ll check in on you later.” You promise over your shoulder, slipping by Simon to disappear down the hallway.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghoap #soap x ghost #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley

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houpss · 1 month

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𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

soft and fluff, will be about all members (!), there may be hints of smut

Chan, who sees the meaning of life in you and wants to see you always in front of him all his life.

What do they say? People who truly love will die one day.

Chan, who promised to love you until the day death finds him, and even after that. He doesn't want to leave you.

The most tender dates, the most tender times. He will give you all his love and attention.

Chan, who tells the members so much about you, you are their “9th member”

Chan, who you're talking to video call with his family! and btw with yours too.

Chan, who, regardless of how busy the day is, will spend the evenings with you. Whether it's cooking or watching a movie/serials/k drama

Chan, who remembers every little thing about you and does what you don’t even ask for, but are clearly thinking about.

Meeting Chan was fate, maybe you were given each other by fate?

Oh..he looks at you like an angel, his eyes shine so brightly when he sees you!

Chan, who gives you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers every Friday.

He writes you songs, from the sad to the most vulgar... oh, the boy is simply overwhelmed with emotions for you.

Chan, who takes you on all his world tours because he finds it difficult without you.

He is the most gentle and sweetest with you! your heart literally breaks with love for him, you want to love and kiss this man.

Chan, who sits you on his lap while he works and holds your waist with one hand...babe, he has hot and big hands

Chan, who pays for ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING for you. seriously, even if you argue with him.

I wrote this situation, but...

"Channie, make me some coffee please"

"Ugh...I'm late, little mouse"

"So you won't do it? :("

"That means I’ll be late” and goes to make coffee for his beloved woman/man

His favorite terms of endearment for you are subtle but classic: “sweetheart” and “baby,” but on special occasions he will call you “sweetheart” with a matching saccharine expression. Or “little mouse”, which is also very cute

Chan, sometimes he can get angry and yell at you, but that's because he puts too much pressure on himself at work.

Oh..during your quarrels even plates and insults fly. After one quarrel, there were broken plates and you cut yourself, he noticed this and took you to the bathroom, where he treated the wound and apologized to you almost a hundred times. And the plates...buy new ones.

Chan, who practices flirting with you like you're in high school, but he learned it from STAY

Chan, who gives you all his hoodies and absolutely everything... for some reason you love to steal his shorts and walk around the house in them. Ooh, he thinks they fit really sexy on your hips.

He'll give you a bear hug when you sleep, he's a big spoon

He also always kisses your forehead when he leaves for work, because you are still sleeping, and he is already leaving.

but keep in mind, Chan makes sweet sex to you, but his stroking game is so crazy, even when he takes his time with you, he's so deep inside you that it drives you crazy, you're literally pray

Chan is an experienced and mature man, he is completely confident in himself and in you. He takes the leading position in the relationship, he is the one who leads.

Do I need to tell you that all his things smell like your perfume? What if all your things are in his perfume?

You sometimes help him with lyrics or with song arrangements when he gets stuck and doesn’t understand what’s best to add.

You, who pulls the vat out of the studio.

You, who always checks how he ate or how much he slept. You absolutely monitor his regime and make sure he doesn’t overwork.

You are flying to Australia together to visit his family! they will bless your couple.

Hannah will definitely say funny things about Chris, and Lucas is so shy around you.

Oh...Berry, baby Berry 🥹🥹🥹

How about date nights?

You really raised Chan's self-esteem, with you...he fell in love with himself, just as you love him.

He's just grateful that you exist.

First love is always last love.

“Home” is not a place, it is sometimes only a man, the man whom you consider your home.

When you come, all Chan’s problems and wounds heal, he wants to live next to you.

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weed-cat · 2 years

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boys im not gonna lie, it really fucking hurts to know that my safety and happiness is no one’s priority 🙃

#i know it's my own fault i know i know i know it #i know that i'm a lost cause #i know that my crisis moments just come and come and come and come and never stop #i know that everyone is numb to my suffering at best and actively resentful of it at worst #but holy fuck #it hurts so so bad when no one cares when i cry or hurt myself or someone hurts me or i want to die again #i know its my fault. you have no idea how much i know it's my fault. you have no idea how much i think about that #i don't expect people to care. it's not fair to expect people to care. it's just me. i know i haven't earned it.#i'm trying so so hard i swear i am. but it's not enough. i know it's not enough. i know that i can't ever be enough.#there's no sense in wasting your emotional energy on comforting someone who will inevitably dysregulate again.#it's just logical that people tune out my pain. it makes me happy that the people i love don't waste their time on me.#i want them to take care of themselves. i want them to save their spare energy for someone who deserves it. i dont want to be selfish #but that doesn't mean that i dont feel so so so so so lonely #suffering alone is so painful. even if it's for the best #and i know that i'm not going to be able to deal with that pain forever. i know that i'm going to take myself out before long.#and like #it's okay.#i've accepted it.#i know that some day i'm going to feel too alone and overwhelmed to keep going and i'll just stop.#it's actually quite comforting to know that i can remove myself once it's too much to handle.#to know that i'm not going to have to live with this for longer than i can handle. it's genuinely humane when you think about it.#obviously i'd prefer if i just didn't have to hurt. or at least if i do have to hurt i'd prefer if i didn't have to feel so alone while i do #but i know that that's not an option. i have to hurt because i can't be fixed.#i have to hurt alone because i just can't let myself ruin anyone else.#but it's not forever. i just have to keep telling myself that. once the weight of existing as Me gets too heavy i can let myself rest.#i think i'd like to rest tonight but i wont. its very very heavy right now. it's crushing me.#but there are just a few too many people who are invested in my continued existence right now. it would be selfish to take it from them.#but they'll tire of me eventually. they always do. and once they don't care anymore i'll do it.#but for now it just hurts.#i just have to close my eyes hold my breath and let it bury me

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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months

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congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

#Event:1kCelebration #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #the way i want to write a full fic where reader finds dicks journal and he has a full blown meltdown about it #hes just so cute idk #i wrote all this in like 2 hours so im going to go pass out now thx <3

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saturnville · 3 months

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stolen moments, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: john manages to call amelia after not hearing her voice for weeks.

an: this was the top choice in the poll so far. I've been anxious to write so we knocked this off the list first lol. enjoy!

“Are you alright, Major?”

They’d just arrived at a new station. It smelled like sweat and fear. Men streamed throught the doors like a school of fish. Their deep voices shook the brick walls as their conversations bellowed throughout the building. Dozens of men struggled to keep their composure. He was one of them.

He was overwhelmed. Tired. Desparate. His clothes felt tight against his body. The scent of gasoline and fumes clung to his vest. His hat damp and chilled against his forehead. His shoes were coated in black soot.

John’s eyes caught the telephone in the corner of the station. It was secluded from the rest of the quarters, in a corner, protected by a frosted glass divider. John's shoes grazed the dirty floor as he strode purposefully towards the telephone.

“M’fine. Head in and get your rest. Long day in the morning.” He didn’t know how he was able to make out coherent sentences. Gale stepped in, noticing his friend’s disheveled state and guided the men to the resting quarters.

John’s shoes kissed the dirty floor as he stood long strides to the telephone. He shrugged off his backpack and slid it by his feet. His hands trembled as he plucked the phone off the hook and typed in the number he had engraved in his heart.

It rang. And rang. And rang. His heartbeat was in his ears. His nails scratched as the black paint around the phone as he succumbed to his anxiety. He sent a silent prayer to God above.

Then he heard it. “Hello?” John’s forehead tapped the frosted glass as he rested against it. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. He’d never been particularly sensitive, but he was overwhelmed with emotion, good and bad, and hearing her sweet voice made his eyes well with tears.

The words were stuck in his throat and all he could release was a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for her to identify the caller. “Johnny?”

He shut his eyes. A lone tear fell from his eye. “Hey, Rosie.”

Amelia let out a soft cry. “Oh, thank God! I-I thought something happened to you; I hadn’t heard from you in weeks. Are you okay, where are you now? Is Gale alright, when are you coming…” His first instinct was to cut her rambling short, but the sound of her voice was the choir-like song his soul ached to hear.

He’d gone three weeks without hearing her voice. It was the most tortuous three weeks of his life. For 21 days, he survived by remembering the last words she said before they hung up, Whatever you do, do not die on me, do you understand? I love you, John. I love you. I love you. I love you. It kept his heart beating.

A small smile tugged on his lips. “I’m okay, baby, I promise. Things got a little rough; didn’t stay in one place too long. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice…are you okay?”

His stomach churned at her question. A feeling of despair threatened to creep upon him. Thirty men lost. A plane in the middle of the ocean. An uneasy stomach and even more uneasy mental state. His head pounded, his body shook with unwanted adrenaline, and his hands craved the feeling of her hot skin. He was not okay.

“No,” he replied honestly, rubbing his eye with the stump of his palm. “I’m not okay but I will be. Especially because I get to talk to my favorite girl. Tell me about your day..”

He heard her heavy sigh. “Deflection won’t rid you of what you’re feeling.”

“Talking about it won’t do too much good, either. It’s…it’s hard, Rose. I just.” John’s jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate what he felt. “I just can’t talk about it right now, Amelia. If I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together.”

Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the sound of her shuffling on the other end. She was probably sitting at the edge of her bed. He imagined her, looking pretty in her long-sleeved pajamas and satin scarf, with a blanket tucked under her chin.

“Then how about this,” she started. “You make it home in one piece to tell me about it later, yeah?”

“Always making demands,” John laughed. The first genuine sound of joy he’d made all day. And it made her smile. So wide that her cheeks were sore and her dimples made an appearance. “But you’ve got a deal.” He readied himself to speak again, but a tap on his shoulder interrupted him.

Gale. Meeting with the CO in five minutes, he mouthed. John nodded. He ran a hand through his dirty hair. “Darlin’, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes; I’m sorry. If I don’t call in the morning, know I love you, alright?”

“I know. I love you, too. Don’t apologize. Just make it back to me.”

“Always.”

#saturnville #original writing #black!reader #black reader #major john egan x black!reader #major john egan x reader #major john egan #callum turner x black!reader #callum turner x black reader #callum turner x reader #callum turner #major john egan x amelia mae egan #mota #mota fanfiction #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #curtis biddick

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threadbaresweater · 6 months

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if she calls, i'll be right there | megumi fushiguro

He's quiet. He's helpful. He's good with your kids. He's handsome and smart and totally not living up to his potential. He's younger than you. Months after your divorce is final, you find yourself entangled with your next door neighbor in more ways than one. At first it's just a casual thing, a way to blow off steam. But you realize after some time has passed, you're both in far deeper than you ever meant to be.

Cw: age gap- Megumi is in his early twenties, reader is in her early-to-mid thirties. Reader is divorced and has two children. Mentions of infidelity and emotional abuse. Alcohol use. Consensual (unprotected) sex. Slightly obsessive Megumi. 5.7k words (how did this happen?) Largely unedited. We die like men around here. Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any glaring errors. Minors please dni.

You met Megumi on a cold, rainy November afternoon in the parking lot outside your townhouse. You'd just dropped off your kids to their dad for the weekend and stopped to pick up a few groceries on your way home. Weary and stressed from a busy week of work, playing taxi, helping with homework and hairstyles and extra-curricular activities, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend alone to decompress and try to remember yourself.

Your divorce was still fresh, still raw. Your ex husband made it difficult for you to be civil, but you did your best to be polite in front of your children. They seemed to be adjusting to the custody arrangement as well as could be expected, but you found that working full time and being a single parent was far more taxing than you had anticipated. There was little time to connect with friends or to fit in any sort of leisure time. So when weekends rolled around and you had a bit of a break, you often found yourself overwhelmed and lacking direction. Do you catch up on laundry and mow the lawn, or do you meet friends for drinks and indulge in a night of fun? Though you didn't yet consider yourself old, you certainly didn't feel young and desirable these days. Dating wasn't an option just yet, either. You knew that the baggage you carried around was too heavy to ask anyone else to bear, so most weekends, you preferred to tidy up around the house enough so that you wouldn't feel guilty about lazing around, then you'd open a bottle of wine and order takeout and binge a few episodes of your favorite series.

For a few minutes, you sat in the car, hoping the rain would lighten up and the wind would die down just a little. You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio, humming quietly, running through your mental list of restaurants that would deliver dinner. The song ended, the rain still came down in sheets, and you sighed. "Here goes nothing," you muttered, putting up the hood of your raincoat and ducking your head under the deluge. You ran to the back of your car and lifted the hatch, only for one of the bags of groceries to topple out onto the asphalt. A glass jar of marinara hit the ground and shattered on impact, and the loaf of sourdough you'd been looking forward to–wrapped in a flimsy paper sack– slipped directly into a puddle.

With a heavy, tearful sigh, you put back into the bag what hadn't hit the ground and hoisted it up on your hip, then grabbed the second bag. You'd have to come back out when the rain stopped to sweep up the glass. As you turned to hurry up to your porch, you heard someone call out to you from a few doors down, footsteps splashing quickly through the puddles.

"Hey! You need help?"

A slender hand reached toward one of the bags at your hip and you reflexively recoiled, turning yourself away. "I got it, thanks," you said, eyeing the stranger warily. He looked a little offended, then hooked his thumb in the direction of your car.

"Looks like you dropped something back there. Sure you don't need me to help?"

Something in the way he looked at you made you soften a little, and the cold, driving rain only furthered your decision that yes, you did need help, so you thrust one of the bags into his arms and dug your keys from your pocket.

"Hold that for just a sec so I can–"

The bottom of the other paper bag in your arm gave out, spilling the rest of your purchases onto the sidewalk; suddenly, you were thankful for the rain, because it hid your frustrated tears.

"Got it," he said quietly, bending to scoop up your goods before they could be further ruined. You quickly unlocked your door and directed him inside.

"Just put it there," you said, motioning to a side table in the front hallway of your home. He did so, carefully, making sure not to drop anything else. The two of you stood on the rug while you shrugged out of your coat with a disgruntled sniffle. "Thanks, uh–"

"Megumi. I, um, live a few doors down." He pushed back the hood of his jacket and ruffled his hair, peering at you through long, dark lashes.

"Oh, Megumi! Yeah, we've met once before!" You told him your name, and he nodded. Said he remembered you, too. You smirked at him, toeing off your shoes and setting them over the vent to dry. "Well thanks for helping me." With a weary sigh, you started gathering up your groceries. "I really appreciate it."

He nodded again, looking a little unsure of himself. "No problem. I should probably go now." He looked out to survey the rain and found that it was beginning to let up just a little. "Unless you need some help putting that away."

"I think I can manage from here, but thank you." You really didn't want to be rude, but the day had already taken its toll, and you really just wanted to take a warm bath and curl up in front of the TV with some comfort food and your favorite blanket. "But if I ever need help again, I know who to call on," you say with a wink.

Megumi ducked his head and lifted his hood so you didn't see the blush that flooded to his cheeks, then shoved his hands into his pockets, using his shoulder to open the door. "Sure, yeah. Anytime." With a short nod, he steps outside. "See ya."

"Bye," you said, watching him go.

You lingered so long in the doorway that the glass began to fog over with your breath.

Life stayed busy, as it tends to do when you're a single parent, and you didn’t see Megumi again for several weeks. In fact, it was nearly Christmas before you ran into him again.

The days turned cold quickly, and when the snow began to fall, your daughters wanted nothing more than to spend time outside playing in it. So you bundled them up, snug and warm, and ventured out into your front yard to teach them the art of building a snowman.

Megumi watched you from his second story window for a little while, and when you struggled to lift the middle portion of your snowman onto the base, he thought maybe he ought to help. It was also an opportunity to talk to you again.

"Use your muscles, mama!" your oldest daughter instructed. "We'll help!"

The three of you tried your best to hoist it off the ground. You giggled so much that your strength left your body entirely, and you all fell to the ground in a giddy fit of laughter and decided to make snow angels instead. Eyes closed against the fluffy flakes of snow that continued to float down from the sky, you didn't notice Megumi walk out onto the lawn and lift the large ball onto the base. He packed in a little more snow to close the seam, then began rolling what would become the head.

"Ok, girls, let's try again," you said, pushing yourself off the ground. Once you were upright, you came face to face with Megumi, his cheeks rosy, breathing out gentle white puffs of air. "Oh!"

This close, you could see the intense green of his eyes, the snowflakes that gathered in his long lashes. He stared back at you for a second, surprised at the close proximity of you. "Hey."

You laughed sheepishly, taking a step back, then brushing the snow from your bottom. "Hi!" you said, a little too loud. "You scared me!"

Megumi bent down to continue rolling the head of the snowman, and your youngest daughter hugged you around the hips, watching him curiously. "Who's that, mama?"

You draped your arm over her shoulders and hugged her close. "That's our neighbor, Megumi. Go on, say hello," you encouraged.

With a tiny, mitten-covered hand, she waved to him. "Hi 'gumi."

"This is gonna be the best snowman ever!" your oldest daughter chimed in, dashing over to help Megumi push the ever-growing ball of snow around.

He offered her a comfortable smile and let her take over for a minute. "I think so, too. You guys are good at this."

The four of you worked together until the assembly was complete. You gathered some stones from a neighboring driveway to add eyes and a mouth, and a carrot from your kitchen made a fine nose. Two sticks gave the snowman arms, and an old, knit hat covered his head.

"He needs a scarf!" your oldest cried, tugging at your jacket. "He looks cold!"

You looked around, trying to remember if you had an extra, old scarf laying around anywhere inside. "I don't think we have one," you said.

Seeing the girls look a little crestfallen, Megumi took it upon himself to unwind the plaid scarf tied around his own neck, and held it out to them "How about this?"

Their squeals of laughter made him smile, and he looked at you as if seeking approval.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

He shrugged, even as the girls had accepted his offer and were tying the scarf onto its new owner. "I've got another one. I don't mind."

You looked at him, and for a moment, you saw more than just the guy next door. Your heartbeat kicked into a faster rhythm as he held your gaze, and it wasn't until your daughter had cried Mama, mama look! a handful of times that you tore your gaze from him, shaking your head, a little dizzy.

"I see, baby! He's perfect!"

Megumi stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets, watching as you adjusted the snowman’s limbs. And when your youngest whined about being too cold, her little teeth chattering in a sudden gust of wind, you began to herd both girls toward the house. You turned back to Megumi and gave him a gentle smile.

"Um, do you want to come in for hot chocolate?" When his eyes widened and your girls cheered, you added, "We have mini marshmallows."

He chuckled– warm and deep, ducking his chin down into the collar of his coat. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

You made small talk in the kitchen while you sent your girls upstairs to change into their pajamas. The sun was setting, and you didn't plan on going out anywhere else that evening, so you figured it would save a step later to have them go ahead and change.

Megumi offered to help with the hot chocolate, but you wouldn't have it. He sat at your kitchen table, tearing a napkin into neat little squares while you chatted idly about work. You learned that he worked at a call center for a health insurance company. And though you meant no offense, you laughed a little.

He raised a curious brow and blew over the top of his mug before taking a tentative sip. "What's so funny?" He asked.

You shrugged and dropped an ice cube into each of your girls' mugs, then gave them a stir. "You don't seem like an insurance salesman, I guess."

"I don't sell. I just field questions about policies and stuff."

"But you don't, like, get commission or anything when you try and upsell someone?"

He shook his head. "I don't upsell. We're not allowed. I literally just talk to people about their claims and usually end up sending them off to someone else who can handle it."

You leaned against the kitchen counter with your hip, fingers interlaced around your own warm mug of hot chocolate. "Aren't you bored?"

Megumi looked at you for a moment, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, yeah, but the pay is decent."

"I dunno. A smart, good looking guy like you? I bet you could get any job you wanted."

It took you a moment to realize what you said, and how it must have sounded to Megumi. You stuttered a little and called your girls into the kitchen. "Hot chocolate's ready!"

The girls bounced into the room and sat down at the table, instantly dominating the conversation. Truth be told, you didn't mind one bit. The last words you spoke echoed around in your mind and you kept stealing glances at Megumi while your daughters chatted about school and classmates and their favorite cartoon characters. He was good at asking them questions about their interests, staying just interested enough to keep them chattering away while still being able to turn his attention to you now and then, sharing a secret smile with you that spoke volumes.

Once their mugs were empty, you shooed them off to their room to play. Megumi stood and helped you clear away some of the mess, then said he should go, too.

"Thanks for the invite," he said, lingering near the doorway, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded.

"I hope I didn't make this awkward," you breathed, putting away the last of the spoons. "I didn't mean…" What did you mean?

He lifted a hand and made a dismissive gesture. "Tch. No worries. I didn't take it badly. I know I can do better." He sighed, looking at you meaningfully. "You know what they say– money makes the world go 'round. Or…something." He laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinted pink. "I'd better stop before I say something else dumb."

You smiled sympathetically. "Let me walk you to the door."

He slipped on his coat and stepped into his boots that were now warm and dry. "Thanks again for having me."

"Sure, no problem, honestly. The girls really liked you. I haven't heard them talk that much to someone that's not me or their dad in…well, in a really long time."

Megumi's eyes widened considerably, and he took a step back, zipping up his coat. "Dad? Oh. Are you–?"

"Divorced," you blurted out, pointing to the lack of ring on your finger. "Recent. Um, actually. Final! Not tied up in court or anything anymore. Nope, I'm single!" Shut up, shut up!

Poor Megumi had no idea what to say or how to say it. He wanted to say he was glad to know you weren't married, because it would have made him feel terribly guilty for being attracted to you. In fact, he already felt guilty enough for the thoughts he'd been wrestling with, considering the fact that you were at least 5 years older than him (he guessed) if not more. There was no way a beautiful woman like you– with two kids and a rich life of your own– would ever consider getting involved with a younger, directionless guy.

He swallowed. "Me. Uh, me too." He showed you his own, ringless finger, and you felt your cheeks flood with heat. "Uh, goodnight. Thanks again for the hot chocolate."

"Goodnight, Megumi. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He scratched the back of his neck and smiled at you– shy, unsure. God, you were beautiful. "Okay, yeah. See ya later."

He found little ways to ease into your life after that snowy, December afternoon. He learned your routine, memorizing when you left for work and when you got home, what days the girls stayed with you and which weekends they spent at their dad's. He made sure your sidewalk stayed clear of ice and snow and even woke to scrape the frost from your car once the frigid temperatures of January and early February took hold. He helped you carry in groceries more than once, helped you juggle backpacks and dance bags and even a coffee table you salvaged once from a flea market. He was a good friend to you, one whose company you cherished. You never really considered Megumi someone who would want more than just a casual friendship with you.

The day he found you crying in your car was the day things changed.

It wasn't that you were still in love with your ex husband. What he did to you– the very reason for your divorce– made certain that you'd never be able to look at him with love in your eyes again. And it wasn't that you didn't think he deserved to find happiness with someone in your stead. But when you ran into him on your lunch break and saw his arm around the waist of another woman, your stomach lurched and your vision blurred, and you had to excuse yourself. Your coworkers had murmured quietly as you darted to the restroom and locked yourself inside while your thoughts spiraled.

It wasn't fair. Of course you didn't want him back. Of course, you'd never be able to reconcile and have the relationship you'd once thought would last forever. Till death do you part, right? In sickness and in health? Your vows didn't account for him being a compulsive liar, though. A man who could look you dead in the eyes and tell the most convoluted stories and expect you to believe every word. You did for years, though. Excuses for why your savings gradually disappeared, for being late coming home from work time and time again. For missing dance recitals and holiday dinners. For so many reasons, so many times you lost count. He left you with no choice but to leave.

His happiness (or lack thereof) was no longer your concern. So why did it bother you so much to witness him touch another woman the way he used to touch you? You knew in your heart that their relationship would flounder, just like yours did. You knew he couldn't be faithful or truthful with anyone, including himself. Where was your happiness? Why couldn't you find it within yourself, as so many people promised you would?

A gentle tapping on your window startled you so much that you yelped and jolted, your heart kicking into overdrive. You swiped a hand through the fog on the glass to find Megumi, staring back at you with concern etched into his pretty features. Hurriedly, you wiped your tears away and rolled down the window, faking a tight-lipped smile.

"Don't," he said, fingers closing around the top edge of the window.

You scoffed, then sniffled. "Don't what?"

"Smile. I know you don't mean it."

You tucked your chin into your chest and squeezed your eyes shut; a couple more tears spilled free, and Megumi reached in to catch them on his cold fingertips. "Go inside. It’s cold out here."

Sighing, you killed the engine. Megumi stepped away from your car to allow you room to step out, then walked you to your door, hand hovering just above the small of your back to guide you. You were trembling so much that you couldn't even get the key in the door, and it caused a fresh wave of sadness to wrack your body, so you leaned your forehead into the wood and sobbed. Megumi gingerly took your keys from your hand and did it for you, ushering you gently inside. He took your coat and hung it, bent down to slide your shoes off your feet, set your purse on the table. "Come on," he said, helping you to the couch.

"You don't have to do this," you whispered, watching him as he grabbed the blanket you kept on the back of the couch and draped it over your lap. "You…you should go. I'm not good company right now."

He looked as if you'd slapped him across the face. Standing before you, eyes full of disbelief, of tenderness, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked off to the side. "I've never seen you cry," he murmured. "I just got worried."

"That's really sweet of you," you say, pulling the blanket up to your chin while you tuck your legs under your bottom, curling into the side of your couch. "I just need to be alone right now." Please don't leave me, you wanted to say. You felt incredibly vulnerable, and you knew if he stayed…

"I mean, if you want to talk about it, I'm right here." Something in his voice made him sound a little offended, as if he thought you didn't find him trustworthy. The weeks you'd spend making idle small talk with him didn't add up to much; in that moment, however, you realized you'd shared much more with him than just the little details about your life. "Was it him?"

Your eyes welled with fresh, burning tears, and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodded, then buried your face in the blanket. "I'm so pathetic."

Megumi sat down beside you then, laying a tentative hand on your knee. You could feel his warmth even through the blanket, and you sucked in a breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, you're not," he implored. "I think you're amazing."

You laughed in spite of yourself, swiping at your runny nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "I don't feel amazing," you argued.

Megumi's hand pressed a little harder on your knee, and he shifted closer, reaching over to touch your chin. You gasped and turned your head at his gentle insistence, meeting his intense stare.

You'd touched him before. Accidental brushes against his shoulder in your kitchen. Bumping into him when you, he, and your daughters all crowded through your front door at once, carrying bags and hanging up coats. A playful nudge when he made you laugh at something silly. This felt new, though. Different in a way you didn't want to admit. Your intense sorrow gave way to something else, something you had been pushing down for weeks now.

“Megumi…”

The next few moments passed in a dreamy blur. You weren’t sure who kissed who first, who took that initial leap, but the next thing you knew, he was leaning into you, pressing your back against the couch. Your hands threaded through his hair and you held him against you while he licked into your mouth– hungry, passionate, all-consuming. For one tender, quiet moment, he pulled back and kissed your tear-stained cheeks, thumbing at the moisture collected in your eyelashes. “So beautiful…” he breathed, soft lips bumping against your own.

You grabbed his wrist and pressed your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Down the column of your neck Megumi dropped featherlight kisses and you moaned softly, eyes swung toward the ceiling. He shifted his weight against you, fingers spread around your ear, tilting your chin so his mouth could explore further, down to your collarbone. “Tell me to stop.”

You couldn’t. You should, but the more he kissed you, the more you relaxed into him, the more you kissed him back with the same eagerness he showed you. Soon, his hands were beneath your sweater, thumbs grazing over the satin cups of your bra. You drug your nails up the back of his neck and he moaned so beautifully into your mouth that you felt a surge of arousal between your legs. When he tugged at the hem of your shirt, you leaned back and lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off, then crawled over him, into his lap, kissing him with a hungry intensity that he met in kind. You weren’t surprised to feel the bulge between his legs when you rolled your hips down into him. You wanted to devour and be devoured.

Once his own shirt was off, he took great care in unclasping your bra, lifting it away to reveal your breasts. For one reverent, quiet moment, he cupped them in his warm hands, tracing the outline of your areolas, thumbing over your nipples. You’re sure he’d seen breasts much younger than yours, not deflated from breastfeeding and fluctuations in your weight over the years, but the way he looked at them made you less insecure, more proud of how your body had aged. You wanted to say something, to ask him what he was thinking, but when his tongue laved over your nipple before his lips closed around it, all coherent thought flew out the window along with your sense of self-preservation. “Oh my god–”

“Want you so bad,” he whispered, hands kneading the fat of your thighs to pull you further down into his lap. You linked your arms around his shoulders as your hips found a rhythm, grinding yourself against him, desperate to ease the ache in your gut. You worked your hands between your bodies to unfasten his jeans, taking care to pull down the zipper so it didn’t catch. Megumi pulled away from your kisses to watch, breathing through his open mouth as you freed his cock, smoothing your hand over its heavy, velvety warmth. “Please,” he whimpered.

You smiled, eyes hooded, clouded with lust, and leaned in so your lips touched his ear. “Please, what?”

“Need you,” he said, rutting against your hand, head laid against the back of your couch, fingers toying with the waist of your pants.

“Not here,” you said, pulling him off the couch. He stumbled to his feet and straight into your arms. He couldn’t bear to stop kissing you, to not be able to touch you. Out of the living room and up the stairs to your bedroom, you bumped into walls, you tripped over stairs. You giggled against his neck and he nipped at your shoulders as you discarded your pants in the doorway before crawling backwards onto your bed. Megumi stood before you, skin flushed pink, chest heaving, staring down at you with awe. “Come,” you commanded, letting your legs fall open. You watched as he swallowed, his throat bobbing before he climbed over you. Another kiss, and he trailed warm, soft fingers up the inside of your thigh, then swiped them lightly through your folds. You keened as your back arched off the bed and Megumi shuddered. He was fascinated with you. On one hand, he wanted to take his time, to map out every curve, every freckle and mole, every dip and scar. He wanted to know what every inch of you felt like against his lips, what kinds of sounds you’d make when he kissed your most intimate places. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside you, to feel your ankles hooked at his waist, to whisper his devotion against your ear while you gripped his hair with a trembling fist and cried out his name.

“Hey, you ok in there?” you asked. He’d been still for a few moments, tracing idle patterns across your belly, the hand between your legs resting comfortably, fingertip just inside. You stroked his hair from where his head laid against your breasts and his ear caught your heartbeat.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

You kissed his hair and scratched lightly across his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, a little louder. He hooked his finger inside you a little deeper and found your clit, rubbing small circles against it. Your breath caught and you gripped his hair a little tighter, closing your eyes.

“I know. I know you do, Megumi. You make me feel that way.”

He pressed in further and murmured something about how wet you were, then shifted himself over you, pushing your thighs apart with a strength that surprised you, thumbs pressing hard into your flesh. You moaned in tandem when he finally entered you, meeting in a messy, filthy kiss as you arched off the bed to meet him.

You made slow, sleepy love, moving in the way people who have been together for years do. No rush, no daring positions or fast, hard fucking. Megumi worshiped you, all soft kisses and breathy moans, careful hands and tender affirmations. Your body bloomed in response, and for the first time in forever, you felt alive. Every nerve ending felt warm, blood rushing to your fingertips, your toes, to your head; you were drunk with pleasure and let yourself get swept away in his affection. And when you came, it wasn’t earth shattering. It began as embers in a fire, warm and stirring before it spread outward and consumed you with its overwhelming heat. You felt it everywhere– every beat of your heart only drove it deeper into your veins. You clung to him as you rode out your high and he reached his own, face buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, panting open-mouthed against your skin.

For a long time, you held him, tears sliding across your temples as you lay on your pillow, heart thumping against your chest. Megumi closed his eyes, one arm slung across your abdomen. His opposite hand laced with yours and he squeezed, subtle and quiet, breathing softly against your shoulder with his head tucked beneath your chin.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but you woke several hours later, covered in a knit blanket from your bedroom closet. Blinking slowly, you stretched your arm out across the bed in search of Megumi. Somewhat disappointed (but not surprised) to find only cold, empty space where he had been, you got up, dressed in panties and an oversized t-shirt, and wandered down the stairs.

The clock on the wall told you it was past two in the morning, and the soft glow from the nightlight in the kitchen made you smile. Leaning against the counter was Megumi, nursing a cup of something you assumed was hot chocolate based on his preferences. You turned on the tap to get yourself a glass of water and tucked yourself into his side.

“I thought you went home,” you said.

“I probably should.”

You pressed into him further, sliding your arm around his waist. “You don’t have to.”

He slid a warm hand behind your head and held you against his chest, leaning to kiss your hair. “Good. I didn’t want to.”

From that point forward, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You restrained yourself when your daughters were with you, playing it cool and making sure they never saw you kissing or otherwise showing affection. Megumi found ways, though. He’d hook his pinky with yours while you sat on a park bench watching the girls play. He’d corner you in the kitchen to kiss you when they ran outside to get the mail, or rest a hand on your thigh while you watched a movie. It became a habit for him to spend the night in your bed when your daughters went to their father’s for a weekend, and when you weren’t fucking like rabbits on every surface of your house, you’d stay up late with a few bottles of beer and a cozy little fire on your patio, resting comfortably together while you talked and learned about each other. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he worshiped the ground you walked upon. You were in deep. Infatuated. Obsessed with each other. If it was unhealthy, you didn’t care. You felt vibrant, relaxed, beautiful. Ready to conquer the world.

What you had with Megumi wasn’t defined as anything specific. And though you weren’t explicitly together, you also hadn’t dated other men. A well meaning coworker had asked you if you’d tried a dating app, and you politely told her you weren’t ready to put yourself out there just yet. You told Megumi one evening, a few days after it happened, and felt him stiffen at your side. He reached for his beer and took a long drink, then remained sitting forward, elbows on his knees. “Do you wanna date other guys?”

You huffed a short laugh and bumped him with your shoulder. “Do you think I want to date other guys?”

He looked…irritated. “Answer my question.” You watched his jaw clench and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I thought– no, nevermind.” You shook your head and poked at the fire with a long stick, not daring to look him in the eye.

“You thought what?” The air was thick around you, even as a cool breeze blew through the trees. You shivered involuntarily, gathering your cardigan tighter around you.

“I mean, aren’t we dating? I guess we never really defined it, but…” You dared a peek at him, how the flames from the fire reflected in his eyes, how he looked at you with such devoted reverence it took your breath away. Quietly, you admitted, “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered, visibly relaxing.

“I’m…a lot older than you, Megumi.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I don’t want to have any more kids.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, a little more tense than before. He squeezed your thigh and scooted closer, ducking in to kiss your forehead. “Still want you.”

“I don’t even know if I want to get married again.”

He kissed your brow. “Don’t care. I’ll wait. And if you decide you don’t want to, I’ll still be here.” He hooked his finger under your chin and turned your face toward his, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll still be in love with you.”

You breathed a little sigh and averted your eyes. “Megumi…”

“I’m serious. I do love you. And…” he tilted his head trying to meet your eyes again. “I think you love me, too.”

You kissed him. A distraction, a way to buy time before you said the words out loud. The words you’d rolled around on your tongue since the night you first slept together. It terrified you, the possibility of loving someone new, of giving your heart over to someone again. Megumi was nothing like your ex husband, but the hurt he caused made it nearly impossible for you to trust someone not to do it all over again.

But for Megumi, you thought you could try. You wanted to give him that chance, to ease into something beautiful that you’d already been building.

He cupped your face in his hands and gently pulled out of the kiss. “I love you,” he repeated. Expectant. Hopeful.

“I love you, too.”

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk x reader

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Text

Creepypasta/MH - What Their Love Is Like

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Brian/Hoody, Tim/Masky, Nina the Killer

Jeff the Killer

Obsession

He’s extremely obsessed with himself, especially his appearance, so I imagine his love would merely be an extension of that

In his eyes, his lover is perfect, from their appearance to every little thing they do

They can do no wrong, and he completely overlooks their flaws

If anything, he doesn’t even see them as flaws

Just more reasons that the person is perfect

That being said, his love is probably pretty suffocating

Physical and verbal affection are his go-to, as well as spoiling them with gifts

The former two he expresses in random mushy gushes

The latter will occur randomly, just whenever he spots something he think they’d like

He’s either fawning over them or raging at them in a characteristic outburst of blind anger

Either way, the emotions are intense

“Chill” moments are rare with him, and they consist of him being burnt out/too tired to feel anything

He probably doesn’t even acknowledge his lover when this happens

They might take advantage of this, using the opportunity to bask peacefully in his presence without having his full attention on them

In short, he’s an extreme ride-or-die lover who pours every ounce of energy and attention over his love

Eyeless Jack

A quiet, curious love

I imagine he’d meet his lover when they lock gazes randomly

They stare for a long time, silently becoming fascinated with the other

Not physically/romantically attracted or anything, just strangely drawn to each other

From there the relationship progresses by one of them (alternatively) making a subtle move as feelings of romance sprout bizarrely from concrete like a dandelion

Standing closer, exchanging names, brushing hands, a peck on the lips, all over a very long period of time

He doesn’t talk much, but somehow always finds himself around this person

This is partly because he’s wary around them; he doesn’t fully trust himself not to attack them

But there’s something magnetic about the relationship, and he can’t stop it (and though he won’t admit/realize it, he doesn’t want to)

The relationship never stops deepening: the love grows stronger every day, new boundaries are explored, relationship milestones like moving in together are reached

But there’s still that mysterious barrier that prevents them from talking too much

Are they afraid to expose themselves? Is the silence too comforting? Who can tell…

Whether they break the wall down or not, their strong and obscure attraction will hold them together for a long time

Brian/Hoody

Infatuation

He would’ve noticed them first

Interest piqued, he’d try to speak with them

He’d advance the relationship quickly, but not in the way you’d expect

Instead of asking to hang out often, he spends perhaps a little too much time investigating them

Talking to their friends, looking up their name online, scrolling through their social media…

He knows everything about them before they tell him themselves

Still, he likes to hear them talk about themselves; that just means he gets to cross-check his information

Of course, he’d never let on that he knows more than they believe

When the relationship really starts to get intimate, he’d ramp up the “investigating”

He’s a little obsessed with knowing everything about them

He does it because he can’t stand wondering about them

What are they up to? Well, go see for yourself.

Over time he’d probably let up a little, especially if/when his lover starts to catch on

He’d get a little more comfortable with simply asking them the things he feels the need to know

It will get overwhelming, but it’s just part of the package with him

He probably won’t return the favor; if his lover asks him something in return, he’ll be extremely vague

In that respect the relationship would be a little one-sided; he knows everything, they know only a little

Tim/Masky

Bitter

He’s got problems. He knows that. They know that. They both just have to deal with it

Anyone who’s stubborn enough to stick by him simultaneously scares him and makes his heart flutter

He’s been hurt a lot in his life, he doesn’t want the same to happen to them

Plus he doesn’t have a lot of emotional energy/affection in him

So he keeps himself distant, often to a neglectful extent

The only thing that’d make them stay would be the sporadic shows of affection

They’re small, few, and very far between

A pat on the head, a mumbled compliment, locking pinkies for a moment, draping his arm across them in bed, tiny things like that

He’d get flustered easily by any show of affection towards himself

He’d feel overwhelmed by frequent displays, so his lover would have to be strategic in planning when to act

Honestly it’d be like they weren’t even dating

But then someone would see them share a lingering glance, or sit silently together in the rain, and they’d start to wonder

Speaking of, most of the pair’s time together would be like that; just sitting silently, not talking, not touching, not even acknowledging the other

Smoking on the balcony late at night or early in the morning, standing in the rain while they wait for a bus, eating sandwiches in a diner, solemn-faced and unspeaking all the while

The relationship would be held together by a very long and thin string, but it would be strong as steel so long as they both remained stubborn

Nina the Killer

Magical

She’s like an enchantress: absolutely captivating, but still with a dangerous air about her

She would show her love unapologetically to the one she deemed worthy of it

She’s a pretty affectionate person when it comes to her loved ones

Physical affection, verbal affection, hand-made gifts, helping them out, exciting and romantic dates, taking pictures together, the whole nine yards

This being said, her craziness does almost always shine through

There’s just something so subtly off about the things she’ll say, or the things she’ll do

A splotch of blood on a gift, a comment that might be a threat from anyone other than her, just little things that catch one’s attention every now and again

If you bring it up, she’ll share the truth openly

She’d have to have picked someone she trusts fully, so transparency is never a problem when they have concerns

Even if she’s sharing something disturbing or distressing, she’ll tell it in full

She’d expect her lover to do the same, and would help coach them if they didn’t

The relationship would not last if they resisted; she knows what she wants and what she deserves

Thanks for reading!! Take care sweeties <33

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #hoody #hoody x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #masky x reader

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Note

Hi, I hope you are doing good 🧡

Could you do a Lando x gf where she isn't used to feel loved (for example she isn't used to hearing compliments, receiving thoughtful gifts or affectionate gestures) and when he does one of those things she doesn't know how to react and gets emotional? Like an overwhelming feeling of being loved. Thank you!

Nothing but Love

Lando Norris x Reader

Genre: fluff

Reguest: yes and I'm taking hurt/comfort and angst prompts. I'm actually looking to do specifically mental health prompts because I think it's comforting to read things like that 🤷🏻‍♀️

Summary: Read the request. I'm so proud to have followed it because I was wanting to make it angsty and I stopped myself.

Notes: This is a 4+1 thing.

Masterlist

Gift Giving

Affection had never been something she got much of. It's something her parents struggled with to the point that it seemed like they were always distant. Both with each other and her.

She is affection starved. It's a fact Lando knew about before they even started dating.

He knew it was going to be difficult to warm her up to it at first. He just needs to find her love language and use that to his advantage.

First on the list: gifts.

Lando, in all honesty, does not think this is her favorite thing. He's seen her at Christmas almost die at the thought of people spending money on her.

But he has money, and he wants to use it on her.

He starts out small with things she needs and doesn't make a big deal out of it. She mentions a snack she's craving, and he has it for her the next day. If she complains all her socks are starting to get holes in them, there are new socks in her drawer the next morning.

He keeps it small, and she appreciates it.

Acts of service

Lando isn't expecting her reaction to this one to be so overwhelming. He purposely makes it a point to do small things like clean up around the house and check of tasks on her to-do list.

She doesn't know how to act at first. It's like she's a robot with no programming or direction. Eventually she warms up to the idea and she learns she can just thank him, be grateful, and move on with the day.

It takes a while to get there, and he has to remind her several times that she doesn't need to try and do everything on her own.

Plus, Lando finds it nice doing mundane tasks when his world is so chaotic and crazy most the time.

Quality time

This one is something they both do on the regular anyways. It's one of Lando's major love languages. He himself needs quality time. The difference here is that Lando makes it a point to do her favorite things that she struggles asking him to do with her.

He takes her to see movies she's been talking about for months. They go to the concerts of her favorite bands that maybe he doesn't like as much. He plays her favorite games with her that he sucks at and watches her smile when she wins.

In a way, it's like watching a child get to do all the things she never got to. Always too busy trying to take care of herself growing up. It's one of his favorite things to see.

Her childish smile makes him fall deeper every time.

Physical touch

Everyone knows Lando is clingy. Every moment of everyday he is touching somebody. Not in a weird way, mind you. Simply hugging, holding, cuddling, shoulder patting, anything that keeps him in close proximity to the people he cares about.

It was something she wasn't used to at first. His touch starved human had no idea how to reciprocate his endless bouts of physical needs.

She caught on quick. A fast study. Now she may even be as clingy as him.

People are so disgusted by their constant public displays of affection. It's a never ending well of tight hugs and stolen kisses.

If she goes to him for affection, he never turns her away. It doesn't matter what he's doing. He could be streaming, and he will not hesitate to either turn it off or if she's comfortable will let her cuddle him while he's gaming.

Words of affirmation

This is the one that got her. He wasn't expecting her to be so shocked when he said he was proud of her for eating three meals that day. Or stutter and blush when he said she's the most gorgeous person he has ever placed eyes on.

He makes it a point to remind himself to say things like that to her. Even the littles compliments.

Sometimes she cries and tries to tell him he's wrong. How he's the only one who has ever said such things about her. Oh, how he wishes he could go back and meet her sooner and tell her all the things she deserves too here.

He is constantly showering her in compliments and reassurance. He reminds her she is worthy of praise and affection. She cries about it sometimes and he just holds her and tells her that she's worthy.

He does it daily and as often as he can. He would start every sentence about her with a compliment if he could.

Her parents may not have given her the affection she deserves. But he will, and he'll make sure she gets all the affection he can give because she deserves it.

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hinatiny · 16 days

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crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word he says by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips.

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader

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stxrrynightskies · 2 months

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𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

✩°｡⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: r. akutagawa x reader

⋆｡° ✮ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: just some boyfriend headcanons with my favourite boy

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: first post, i hope you enjoy it!

✩ he’s the type to act like he doesn't know you in public (but he does it to protect you)

✩ pretends he doesn't care about you but would quite literally tear yokohama apart if something were to happen to you

✩ obviously, he needs a lot of praise and reassurance

✩ "who did this to you?" type of guy

✩ he gets a little insecure about your relationship. he knows you love him, but sometimes he wonders why

✩ always acts like he doesn't want to do all those cute little dates with you when in reality, he loves them

✩ he gets jealous sooooo easily

✩ the softest boy imaginable when the two of you are alone

✩ his smile is only reserved for you

✩ as much as he tries ignoring you in public, if he sees you, he immediately hovers over to you

✩ he'll always sit silently and listen to you rant about your day or your interests

✩ after a long night of work, he'd make his way to your house and slip into your bed with you and just hold you close

✩ loves being the little spoon

✩ sometimes, when you try walking away from him, he'll use rashomon to wrap around your waist and pull you back

✩ never lets his anger issues get the better of him around you

✩ the best part of his day is to fall into your arms and cuddle until you both fall asleep

✩ and if you're not a touchy-feely person, he'd be more than happy to just enjoy your presence

✩ rarely has emotional moments but when he does, he gets so overwhelmed and just wants to curl up in bed with you

✩ because he works odd hours in the mafia, sometimes you'll wake up to him making breakfast for the two of you, and sometimes he won't wake up until three in the afternoon

✩ at the beginning of your relationship, he absolutely hated physical contact because it reminded him of his days with dazai

✩ constantly afraid of messing up in front of you

✩ but your gentle manner let you bypass his walls

✩ would rather die that admit he's wrong during an argument (until realizes he's gone to far)

✩ you're always the first person he goes to when he gets any form of good news

✩ so good at painting nails (and doing hair)

✩ sometimes, he'd make you listen to a song and tell you "this reminds me of you." whether it's romantic of silly (same with memes)

✩ he loves matching outfits when you guys go out

✩ you better believe he's got incredible fashion sense

✩ absolutely melts when you play with his hair

✩ he has one specific (and unique) pet name for you and would literally kill anyone who refers to you by it

✩ secret hand-holding under the table when you're out with friends

✩ you guys have a son (it's a stray cat that akutagawa begged to keep one night on the way home)

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

#✮⋆˙ jade writes #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x you #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa headcanons

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kqulitz · 11 months

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HI HELLO BEFORE ANYTHING I MUST SAY YOUR WRITING IS AH, SO SO SO GOOD I LOVE IT SM 🖤 the smuts are to die for while at it oooh myyyy ~ This will be a bit of a cheesy request because I’m not braining anything spicy right now but! Here you go; It starts off with Bill and reader doing the deed, I have a soft spot for sub Bill but you can do what you think fits right, and it is quite the passionate session yk, either after not seing one another for a long time or reconciliation sex. Thing is halfway through Bill breaks down and the reader believes she did something wrong and tries to fix it, turns out Bill was simply emotional and euphoric over how much reader and their moments mean to him. He’s always been so open about wanting to live that big love and he just seems to be like such a passionate lover, it’s sweet 🖤 Have a good day/night!! And keep up the good work you’re doing so well!!

a/n: TYSM FOR THE KIND WORDS 🫶🫶🫶

passion

bill kaulitz x reader

summary: your boyfriend gets a little overwhelmed.

tags: platonic tom/reader, both reader and bill are 18, smut!!, sub! bill/dom!reader, arguments, make-up sex, soft/gentle sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding/fem on top, hand holding, crying, aftercare, brief talks of marriage at the end 🫶

smut under cut, minors dni!!!

lowercase intended

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re silently fuming on tom’s bed, arm tossed over your eyes as he hits beside you. he’s unsure of what to say, through the wall he can hear bill’s furious rearranging of things in his room. inhaling slowly, he glances at you, hand patting your leg. “go talk to him.” he mumbles. “no.” you deadpan, not moving your arm. “y/n.” he states sternly, watching you huff and roll over, your back facing him. “i know you’re upset, but you can’t hide in my room forever..!” tom adds on, watching you for a moment. “whatever you two said to each other, you don’t mean it. go tell him that.” tom pats your side. “i… can’t.” you sigh, using your forearm as a pillow.

“why not..?” tom asks cautiously. “we said we hated each other, tom. i… i can’t right now.” you respond. the pit in tom’s stomach deepens. “but you don’t hate him. i don’t even think bill is even capable of hating you..! he loves you too much.” the other twin tells you. silently, you wipe your eyes. “i just… i don’t know what to say to him.” you mumble. “anything..! it will be better than sitting in my room sulking.” tom exasperates, nudging your back. “i’m not sulking..!” you complain, yet his silence says everything. “fine, maybe a little… but i’m upset!” you argue, sighing. “look, just go talk to him. if it doesn’t come we’ll come back and we’ll order some pizza and let things cool down; then you can try again later.” tom suggests. you mull over his idea silently before nodding. “okay… fine i’ll talk to him.” you sigh, getting up. “das ist mein mädchen..!” (that’s my girl..!) tom encourages, smiling as you leave his room.

slowly, you open the door to bill’s bedroom, peering inside. his back is facing you as he rearranges everything in his closet, removing some of your clothes. your heart sinks at the possible reason, yet you push it aside. “schätzchen…” (baby) you mutter softly, closing the door. bill ignores you, hanging up one of his jackets. you walk closer, letting your arms carefully hug your boyfriend, your head resting against his shoulder as your chest presses to his back. “es tut mir leid.” (i’m sorry) you mumble, refraining from squeezing him in case he was still upset. bill exhales through his nose, it’s heavy. “sag etwas..? bitte?” (say something..? please?) you can’t help but beg, this time letting your arms hug him more firmly.

“thanks for apologising.” he shrugs a little, hanging up more of his clothes. your heart squeezes at his cold response- your breath catching a little. you can’t find anymore words, so you cling to bill tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder. bill doesn’t remove you, so you take it that he’s not entirely mad with you. “where should this go..?” he mutters, you raise your head. it’s one of you favourite shirts, he’s running his hand over it to get rid of creases. “uh- i don’t mind…” you mumble, watching as he hangs it up. you sit and think for a moment, your thumb idly stroking bill’s hip as you do so. bill’s sudden movement catches you off guard as he turns around, hugging you tightly. you squeeze him, letting him bury his face into your neck. “i’m sorry too… i shouldn’t of said some of those things.” he whines, arms squeezing you desperately. “it’s okay- i’m sorry too.” you respond, your heart fluttering with relief. you pull away slowly, looking at the pile of clothes on the bed. “want some help?” you ask sheepishly, watching him nod. now he was facing you, you could see how badly his makeup was smudged- he had been crying…

you cup his face carefully, wiping under his eyes before giving him a soft kiss. bill melts a little, hands grabbing your sides. a small knock interrupts your moment, and you turn to see tom. “i take it you two have made up?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his lips. “yes, tom- we’re fine… what’s up?” you respond, letting bill cling onto you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder. “i’m ordering pizza, what do you guys want?” he asks, watching you shrug. “just get us the usual, please.” you request, he nods. “okay. i’ll be downstairs if you need me.” he closes the door behind him, and so you turn your attention back to bill. his lips are on yours once more, it’s needy and hard. “let’s get these clothes put away, yeah?” you suggest as he pulls away. “okay.” bill smiles, turning back to the pile of clothes.

after roughly five minutes of you both putting stuff back, bill flops down onto his bed, raising his arms to you. you smile at his lazy grabby hands, getting onto his bed with him as you lean down, lips pressing to his. bill’s hands grab at your waist, guiding you on top of him. you immediately know what he’s hinting at, grinding a little as he moans into your mouth. you let your hands push his shirt up, tracing over your boyfriend’s soft skin. “let me take care of you tonight, okay?” you whisper, watching him nod with excitement. “good boy.” you add on, kissing him again. bill’s back arches into your gentle touches, whimpering against your lips as your finger tips trail down his abdomen. “hurry up..!” he whines, sensitive muscles twitching against your feathery touch. you chuckle, kissing along his jaw gently. “do we still have lube?” you ask, voice hushed as you seal your lips over a spot on his neck, leaving a dark hickey behind as you help him out of his pants. “yeah- in the drawer.” bill squirms under the feeling of your teeth, grabbing the lube for you.

you smile, pouring a generous amount on your hand. the cold sensation against his cock makes him gasp, his back arching. “mmh- fuck..!” his mouth has fallen agape as his head leans back against his pillow, soft pants leaving his lips as you stroke along his shaft. you smile, leaning down to kiss him; feeling him whimper and moan into your mouth. you shimmy out of your shorts, throwing them away as you lean down to kiss him once more. your boyfriend’s hips buck against you as you line him up, letting him push his tip inside of you. bill whines loudly, you silence him with gentle kisses, whispering soft praises between each one. bill’s chest pushes against yours as he whines, grabbing your hips tightly to help you move. it’s slow, sensual and loving, which is uncharacteristic for the two of you.

bill moans, it’s slightly choked as his hips buck up against yours. tangling your fingers between his, you steady yourself, speeding up your pace. “you feel so good..!” bill groans, eyes closed. you moan, hips grinding down against his, squeezing his hands a little. bill squeezes back, his hips stuttering upwards. “guter junge, du fickst mich so gut.” (good boy, you fuck me so good.) you praise between breathy moans. bill’s cock twitches at your words, his chest heaving with each heavy pant, his moans growing louder. you hush him, helping him sit up. bill’s face buries into your shoulder, hiding his whimpers and moans. “guter junge.” (good boy.) you whisper to him, hips rolling down against his as he chokes out a groan. “mph-! fuck, i’m gonna..-“ you let bill lay down again, letting him squeeze your hands tightly as he whimpers under you. “go ahead, my sweet boy.” you coo, your own orgasm growing closer.

bill’s moans are stutter-y and soft, his brows knitted together as he grows closer and closer; hips bucking up to meet your short thrusts. “good boy, fuck- you’re so precious.” you whisper to him, watching his cheeks tint red. he whimpers, back arching as he cums inside you. the sensation has you cumming around him, slowly riding out both your highs. “that’s my good boy. well done.” you tell him watching bill’s soft moans crumble into sobs instead- your eyes widen. “fuck, baby are you okay? i’m sorry..!” you panic, moving off of him. “no- i’m okay..!” he whimpers, letting you hug him tightly. “are you sure..?” you frown, kissing away his tears. “mhm. i’m okay…” he smiles, hugging you tightly. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.” you whine, cradling his head to your shoulder. “it’s not that- i just… i love you so much..!” he replies, tears still falling down his face. “awh, baby…!” you can’t help the gentle laugh that falls from your lips. “i mean it..! you’re so special to me! i love everything about you.” bill responds, kissing your lips gently.

“bill, you had me so worried for a second.” you giggle, kissing him back. “sorry..!” he responds, arms clinging to your torso as he curls closer. “i love you too, sweetheart.” you respond after a few seconds. bill sniffles. “i know..!” he croaks. “oh my god, babe…” you laugh, leaning down to kiss his wet cheeks. “sorry- i just love you so much..!” he whines, you laugh. “i know you do, just take a deep breath for me.” you grin, kissing his lips softly before letting him breathe. bill inhales slowly, letting out a rather shaky exhale before breaking into a smile. “i’m so lucky to have you.” he mumbles, kissing you again. “i think i’m the lucky one.” you respond. “no- you have no idea how blessed i feel whenever i wake up next to you- whether it’s on tour or here or in a hotel- i love you so much. you brighten every single one of my days, i would be lost without you.” he gushes, hugging you again.

“bill- if you don’t stop then i’ll cry..!” you half joke, squeezing him tightly. “sorry, sorry. but it’s true! i love you so much.” he responds, pulling away to kiss you. “i love you too.” you purr, moving away to dress yourself. bill does the same, his glossy eyes slowly drying as he does so. “let’s get cleaned up.” you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. bill hums gently, letting you pamper him a little, adding sweet kisses in between each action. you can’t help the way you smile as his adoring brown eyes meet yours just before he kisses you again and again. you wipe the smudged makeup from his face, fluttering kisses along his skin afterwards. “pizza’s here!” tom calls from downstairs, you pull away. “come on then, baby. we can watch a movie.” you respond, grasping his hand and giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. bill laughs softly, following you out the door and downstairs.

tom raises his brows at the sight of you both, the hickey on his brother’s neck not going unnoticed. “i didn’t think you’d hear me.” he half jokes, putting the pizza boxes on the counter of the kitchen. “we heard you.” you roll your eyes playfully, poking tom’s side as you pass him to get yourself a drink. “alright, alright.” he mutters, smiling a little. “you two doing better?” he asks, taking a slice from his own pizza. “much better.” bill smiles at you, leaning his head on his palm as he gazed at you shamelessly. tom fakes a gag. “ring the fucking wedding bells.” he jokes, taking his pizza and moving to the living room. “maybe we will!” you shout back, listening to him fake a gag. bill’s eyes soften. “y’mean that?” he asks, stealing a slice of pizza. “maybe in the future, it’s something to consider…” you mumble, shrugging a little as you give him a glass of coke. “we still have a lot of time to think it over…”

“i would do it.” bill deadpans, making you choke on your own drink. “bill-!” you splutter, hitting your chest a little. “warn a girl.” you half joke, kind of shocked by his words. “what? i would..! i love you.” he shrugs. “marriage… marriage is a big thing- we wouldn’t want to rush it..!” you fluster, taking the pizza box. “for now, let’s decide on what movie we’re gonna watch.” you tell him, listening as he follows you into the kitchen. “don’t tell me he just proposed in the fucking kitchen.” tom exasperates as he sees your flustered face. “no, he didn’t. don’t worry.” you laugh, getting onto the couch next to the other twin. bill flops down next to you, curling close as tom stretches his arms overhead. “good, i’d lose my shit if he did. you deserve better than that.” tom half jokes, nudging you. “we aren’t getting married anytime soon..!” you sigh, watching tom’s eyebrows raise. “but you would?” he asks. “tom-! let’s just pick a movie…” you sigh, giving up on the topic.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #// 🦇 kqulitz’s writing

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