#a little late for cat day ouch

[polmcarts]

I cant believe my luck that both my otps are a catboy and a plant boy.

#a little late for cat day ouch #tiger and bunny #yyh #usatora #kurameshi

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. i

purely just some fun and games putting big grumpy joel miller slap bang in the middle of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy. dedicated to big sis @mrsmando, who is the light of my life, let herself be completely swept away by this idea into unhinged, whimsical mania with me, and who inspired so many lil details for this story. love u, zhort x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you strike up a deal to attend a wedding with your neighbor as his date. what could go wrong?

warnings: age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), grumpy!joel initially finds reader mildly infuriating, cursing, alcohol consumption, discussion of a car accident (non-graphic) & dead parents, softdom!joel as per, fingering, handjob, comeplay, spitting, drunk unprotected one night stand, creampie, praise kink, one mention of nausea (but nothing happens, my little emetophobic angels), someone falls pregnant and it's not joel miller i'll tell you that much. honk if you love cats!!!

word count: 9.8k 

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It’s just gone seven on a Saturday night when his knuckles rap on your door.

The sun casts tall, angled shapes on your living room wall. Lights the pages before you in a glow of tangerine. Refracts through the glass tumbler on your coffee table and bleeds the amber liquid onto the pale wood surface. Everything lit in some variation of gold, everything bowing its head quietly as the day begins to turn its back.

The house is still. The world feels still, as though transitioning. Like you’re sat in a waiting room, leg bouncing, anticipating something you don’t know to look for yet.

Perfect, comfortable, still – until he’s on your porch. And he knocks again.

You snap your book shut and slide it across the table, nudging the heavy glass. The ice clinks, irritated.

“You mind fastenin’ your…delicates to your clothesline a little better?”

His voice shoulders its way into your hallway before you’ve even pulled the door back enough to see him. Not that you need to see him to know who it is. You’ve lived in Austin three years now and met only one person with a voice as low and toneless as Joel Miller’s. Slung in sarcasm, dripping with disdain. All that.

You cross your arms and slant against the doorframe, unable to mask your amusement. “Excuse me?”

He answers by lifting his left hand. From his pointer finger hang a tiny pair of white panties, lace pattern fluttering in the late summer breeze. You glance over his shoulder as you steal them from his grasp, balling them in your fist.

“Uhuh. They were sitting on my back lawn. I have company tonight, y’know. I can’t have women’s underwear just – lyin’ in my damn yard.”

Your head tilts. Ears prick. “Company? You hostin’ somethin’?”

His shoulders drop with a sigh. “No. I am not hostin’ anythin’.”

“Good. ‘cause I’d want an invite.”

“If I were hostin’, you’d be the last person I would invite. And you know that.”

“Ouch,” you pout, “that hurts, Miller. I watered your plants while you were off visiting your brother last month. They woulda died without me there.”

“And I am grateful to you,” Joel grumbles, “but that doesn’t mean I need those anywhere in view of my kitchen window.” He throws a pointed finger to your elbow, where your panties sit scrunched in your fist.

You look down to the froth of frill spilling between your knuckles, and back up to his dark features – his glower casting a shadow over the hazel eyes and deepening the creases between his brows. You smirk, a realization dawning.

Company – that he doesn’t want seeing a pair of someone else’s underwear.

“You have a date.”

Joel’s tongue flicks across the inside of his cheek. He glances over his shoulder and speaks through his teeth. “No, not a date,” he quietly tells the street.

“But you have a lady comin’ over. Or at least – someone you don’t want seeing these.” You unfold your arms and twirl your fist. The gentle wind lifts the lace.

He grunts. A low hmph. Agreement, you think.

“Sounds like a date.”

He hisses, “’s not a date.”

Your stare doesn’t slip from his. Not when his brows tighten, not when his jaw does, too. Not even when he sucks a breath between gritted teeth. Your smile widens.

Finally, with a sigh, he concedes. “It’s…it’s somebody Tommy ‘n Maria are tryna set me up with. Alright?”

“So – a date.”

“If you don’t –” Joel’s head flicks over to his own driveway at the same time his hand lifts, a pointed gesture you read as – shut the fuck up. “We’re just having a few drinks. Just – hangin’ out.”

“Just hangin’ out,” you repeat, eyes widening. “One-on-one. With some woman who – Wait, Tommy’s in Wyoming. How the hell do he and his wife know someone way the hell down here?”

“From before they moved. And – Maria ain’t his wife. Yet. They’re getting married next month.”

Suddenly the sun reappears over the dark horizon. The evening begins to clear up, make sense again. You lift your chin, nodding.

“Right, right. So, she gonna be your plus one, or…?”

The understanding raises his heckles again. Exasperated, he asks, “How many damn questions are you gonna –? I’m only here to – to return your –” He nods once more to the pale fabric in your hand.

A laugh shoots from your nostrils. “What’s the matter? You don’t like – whatever her name is?”

“Laura.”

“Laura,” you breathe.

“And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just – she…”

“She…?”

“She has, like, five cats, and it’s just…hair, everywhere. And at their engagement party, she spilled an entire margarita down me. Right down my –” He sweeps a hand down his front, balling his fists again once they reach the hem of his shirt.

Your lips turn, amused. “Five cats. Cat lady Laura. Well. Have fun, I guess. Thanks for these.”

He acknowledges your raised fist with a bashful glance. He’s already halfway down your front steps when he says, “Keep an eye on your laundry from now on,” and strides off back to his own place.

Joel has lived here his whole life. In Austin. You’ve no idea when he moved in next door, just that he was here when you did. You don’t know much about him at all – the fact he even filled you in enough to tell you about his date is shocking enough.

The day you first arrived, U-Haul truck squealing to a halt by the curb, he found himself unlucky enough to be stood in his front yard watering the blond patches of his grass. He saw you struggling to open the rear door of the truck, and with a grumble and a glance across the street for a more eager rescuer, he tossed his hose and came over to help.

He unclicked the heavy latch and pushed the door up with enough ease to put you to shame. And he seemed to feel some obligation when he saw the mass of belongings stuffed in the back, to help you unload them. Didn’t seem overjoyed by the thought, mind you, what with the sigh he let slip when you hopped up and held out the first box.

He indulged you for no more than one hour. Answered every question you had about the neighborhood, dodged every one about himself. He told you about the couple across the street with the newborn baby, told you about your neighbor on the other side who pretends to garden just so she can snoop on everyone else’s business. And as soon as the last box thudded down on your gleaming living room floor, he nodded, and paced back over to his own property.

He's a good guy. You know this much. He’s a dick to you most days, but he’s honest, and he’s kind when you catch him in the right light. He takes deliveries for you when you’re not home; he once drove Diane to the vets when she showed up on his doorstep in the dead of night, Fred the Jack Russell ailing in her arms.

He’s observant. Noticed just this summer the three different plumbers who showed up to your house in the space of two days, and came over as the third guy was leaving – his shining bald head low between his shoulders.

‘s the matter? Joel asked, watching the navy overalls sink into the rusted vehicle.

Kitchen sink’s leakin’. Fuckin’ – nobody can fix it.

He shouldered you out of the way with his then-trademark sigh and left twenty minutes later, your kitchen finally free of the dripdripdrip you’d been plagued with for a week straight.

He’s good. He’s a good neighbor. But, man, is he private.

You’ve never seen the inside of his place. His body blocks it anytime you’re on his doorstep. He has a brother, you know that – though, only since last month, when he asked you to keep an eye on his garden – and you know, now, that the brother is getting married.

You know that he likes country music, know he plays guitar – accidentally. You heard him one day in the spring, when he left his window open and you were lounging by your pool. When he looked out and noticed how you’d angled your sunbed to listen, really listen, he slammed it shut.

You know he’s single and childless and has been for at least the three years you’ve lived next door to him.

You know little fucking else.

The words on the curled pages seep into one another. You’re staring through the book now back in your hands, the shape of your living room blurring around you: the brick fireplace, the still, red light of the TV. The lulling sway of the sheer curtains, pushed like the tides by the air through the open window.

You cross your ankles on the coffee table. Your lips purse. Tongue dabs at the smoky-sweet singe of whiskey on the flesh of your cheeks. From here, you can see the street outside Joel’s house. If – when – Laura pulls up, you’ll know. And you’ll be here to watch. Survey. Observe.

See what kind of woman a guy like Joel Miller takes to his brother’s wedding.

It’s nine fifty-two when she eventually leaves.

She’s been in there two hours and seventeen minutes. Her car – a kind of rotten green Chevrolet with one tail light out – sits patiently out front, like even it can’t wait to help her fucking disappear.

You’re hoisting a swollen black bag down your drive when his porch light flickers on and his front door opens. The glossy plastic exhales as it slumps against the trashcan. You dust your hands. Joel hasn’t noticed you yet.

“…so nice gettin’ to properly know you,” Laura’s crooning, sidestepping as Joel walks calmly down to her car. Ushering her. You hold back a laugh.

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, his voice falling flat in the windless evening. He’s a step ahead of her, like a parent leading their child away from the park. She’s still babbling about his six-string.

“Maybe next time I can hear a little somethin’…” she says, and you know from the way he halts that Joel hears the same questioning tone you do, the way somethin’ curls up at its end.

“Maybe,” he says, curtly. His words curl down. And then nothing else, and Laura – who, now that she’s a little closer, stood on the curb by her car door, you notice has sweeping golden hair which flicks away from her plump cheeks, and bright eyes which dazzle in the dusky glow – is forced to cough up one last chance.

“I gave you my number,” she says, then, “I didn’t get yours?” and this time, it’s definitely a question.

Joel pretends to pat down his pockets. “I musta left my phone in the house.”

You can’t help it. A scoff bursts from your lips. But he still doesn’t look over.

“Well,” Laura tugs on the handle, “thank you for a lovely evenin’. I’ll hear from ya.”

Joel smiles but puts a hand on the door, like he might slam it shut for her if she tried to backtrack. But she doesn’t. She swings both legs in, pulls it closed, and the engine spurts to life.

As she pulls off, Chevrolet jolting a little, you notice the bright yellow bumper sticker plastered squint beneath the license plate. You walk silently over to Joel, grass prickly under your socks.

“Honk If You Love…Cats,” you murmur, shoulder brushing off his bicep.

He sniffs. Tightens the grip his arms have on his chest. His eyes are fixed on the one red light, slowly shrinking into the distance. “Don’t even.”

“Good date?”

“I said don’t.”

“She talk much about her cats?”

“Goodnight.”

“Did you ask their names, at least?”

He’s backing up, crossing the dark lawn towards his front steps. He looks you up and down, his lips a flat line. Your sweat shorts. Your bare legs. The tight vest top molded around your breasts. His eyes shoot back up. “No more questions. No more pesterin’ me.”

“Nothin’ about the cats? Seriously, dude?” You lift your arms, grinning after his dark figure, swaggering up the porch steps.

Joel ignores you. He disappears through his front door and the light is snuffed. You slink back up to your house, grateful for the blanket of darkness covering the skip in your step.

Eleven hours later, you’re stood in front of your bedroom mirror.

The day melts against your window. Brilliant blue sky, cradling soft puffs of snow-white clouds. Crows on Diane’s roof cawing, slowly yellowing trees rustling. The bright, hot square across your front where the sun forces her way in.

You turn, taking the loose hem of your sleepshirt in your fingers, and pull it over your body, tossing it to the foot of the bed as you examine the pattern of colors hanging from inside your closet.

You take them one by one, tug them free, slot them back in. Eventually you settle for a gray hoodie, cropped and loose. As you haul it from its hanger, there’s a whine from the wooden cabinet. A squeal. The top shelf rips from either side, dropping to the closet floor and taking the pole with it.

“What the f–? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you growl, stepping forward to run your fingers along the splintered wood where the nails have ripped themselves free. Four black holes, jagged insides of the closet pricking your fingertips.

The crumple of clothes and hangers sulks up at you pathetically. You fall back onto your bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The fan whirs slowly, scooping your gaze and throwing it in lazy circles.

The closet was old, anyways. Was here when you moved. It’s probably about time you had some new ones built. But fuck, that’s gonna cost. Ripping the old ones out, building them from scratch. The fan pulls your eyes back around to twelve o’clock.

Joel’s a contractor. He could do ‘em. Might give you a discounted rate, too, for all the times you move his newspaper from his front lawn to his doorstep for him. Either that, or he’d want something in return. And what handy skills do you have? You once knitted a scarf for you grandma for Christmas. Maybe not Joel’s thing. You can cook mac ‘n cheese – though one lousy meal isn’t payment enough for an entire wall of solid wood, two panes of glass and two days’ labor.

A favor, maybe. An IOU. What the fuck kinda favor does Joel Miller need–?

You’re hopping over the tiny burst of hedge between his yard and yours before the thought is finished, bending to scoop his newspaper up and slotting it under your arm. He answers just as you lift your fist to pound on his door for a second time.

You slap the rolled paper into his chest. “I have an idea.”

He squints at you in the summer light. “Wh–? Didn’t I tell you not to p–?”

“I’ll be your date.”

Joel blinks.

“I’ll be your date,” you repeat. “I got a wardrobe needs replacing. You do it, for free, and I’ll be your date.”

“Your wardrobe?”

“Crapped out on me this mornin’. I don’t want to pay for some stranger who’ll overcharge me ‘n do a half-assed job. Fix it, ‘n you don’t have to take cat lady Laura to Tommy’s wedding. And you can fix my kitchen sink, too.”

“I already fixed your kitchen sink.”

“It’s back at it. Drippin’ all through the damn night. Drip drip drip –”

“Alright.” Joel’s palm is up again. He does that a lot when he’s talking to you. “Alright. Wardrobe ‘n sink.”

“We have a deal?” you ask, extending your hand.

His chest fills with a thoughtful breath. His eyes scan you up and down, lingering somewhere a little lower than your jaw for a second. And then, the heavy weight of his palm against yours. The tightening of his fingers around your wrist. One sure shake.

Deal.

Two weeks before the wedding, you’re at Joel’s door again.

He’s in a black tee, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, fringe still dripping onto his forehead. He runs a hand through the gray-singed brown and stares at the tangle of fabric slung over your arm. “The hell is this?”

“Do you know what you’re wearin’?”

His eyes roll up to meet yours. “Do I know what I’m wearin’?”

You nod. “You’re the best man. Guessing Tommy has you covered?”

“Black suit,” he says, after a beat.

“That’s it? He ain’t got no theme?”

Joel’s head cocks. “I don’t do themes.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under his arm fixed against the doorpost. He manages three words of protest and then shuts the door in resignation, turning to watch as you take his stairs two at a time.

“You are so damn annoyin’, you know that?” his voice echoes behind you.

“You want this date or not, Miller?” you call over your shoulder, following the route through the identical house to your own bedroom – thankful when you nudge the door and it opens to reveal his bland, colorless decor. “Very…gray,” you note, feeling the shadow of him over your shoulder.

You throw the dresses down on his bed, satin and lace and pink and green swimming between one another on his sheets.

“I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

You glower at him. “Ha. We have to match.”

He rubs the towel against the back of his head, drying the dark hair. “Match how?”

“Y’know, your suit ‘n my dress. If I’m your date, we have to match.”

“Already told you. I’m wearin’ a black suit.”

“Right. But, like – what color tie? And can it be any of these colors?” You hold your hands out, surfing over the sea of shades. “Maybe,” you lift your eyebrows, eyes darting to the pale teal color, “this one?”

Joel entertains you for all of five seconds, lifting his cheeks in a false grin before they deflate. “No. Black.”

“Joel.”

He slings the towel over his folded arms, and looks at you plainly. “Black,” he says again, in a tone of voice which sounds something like a door being slammed shut.

Your eyes thin, and you gather your dresses up in one swipe. “Can you just –? Will you make sure that you match my corsage, at least?”

“Why the hell are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna make it believable. You turned down cat lady Laura, this is what you get.”

He sighs, tossing the towel over to his laundry basket. “I will make sure I match your corsage. Happy?”

“Happy. Are you ready?”

“Give me five minutes.”

You huff, head rolling back. “You are so prima-donna, Joel Miller.”

With a sarcastic chuckle, he shoves you out of his bedroom to get dressed. You saunter down his stairs, drinking in every detail of his home as though it’s the only chance you’ll get to see it.

It probably is, when you think about it. You don’t imagine he’ll be inviting you over for drinks anytime soon.

Your eyes move along the wall as you slowly thump down his stairs, thrown from framed photo to framed photo – a black and white photo of a man with a tousle-haired boy on his lap, the kid’s tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth as he wraps his small hand around the neck of a guitar; an out-of-focus Christmas photo, a family of four sat in front of a million multicolored orbs dotted along the branches of a tree; a kid with skinned knees crouched by a German shepherd, his lanky arms hooked around the dog’s thick neck.

One brown suede jacket hangs from a coat peg at the bottom, Joel’s boots sat loose and unlaced beneath. A dark blue blanket draped over the back of his couch. A painting of a moose over his fireplace. Shelves lining one entire wall decorated with carved-wood animals, with more photographs of times gone and memories made, with books and DVDs that lend your fingertip with a heap of white dust as you drag it across their spines.

Enough to paint a picture, not quite enough to show you the colors. The tones, the depth. Despite your best efforts, the man remains a mystery. You settle with the fact he will never be fully revealed.

The creak of his stairs turns your attention from the guitar on the wall around to his tall figure, fixing the collar of the loose flannel over his shoulders.

“You ready?” Joel asks, bending with a groan to reach for his boots.

“Yep,” you reply, leaning forward to glance into his kitchen while his head’s down. The most you manage to observe are the light drapes, the sunlight shooting through and bouncing off of a white-topped island.

“’s go,” he says, keys dangling from his finger.

It takes twenty minutes to drive to Home Depot.

You chitter in Joel’s ear the entire time, reading from his handwritten list of measurements and supplies needed for your new closet. ‘n how do you know this is all enough? Because I know. What if you get started and it’s not? I won’t; it’s enough. You sound so sure. That’s ‘cause I’ve done it before, kid. You take many closetless girls out on fake wedding dates, Joel?

“What’s our story, then?” you ask in the store, fiddling with hanging packets of door hinges while Joel reads thrice over his note. Your hand dives into the bag of M&M’s he begrudgingly bought you at a gas station on the way.

“Our story?” he mumbles back, the words slipping under the mental math you can see going on behind his eyes.

“Like, when people ask how we met. What’s our meet-cute? Both reached for the same door hinge, our hands touched and lit aflame? That kinda thing?”

He doesn’t laugh. Your smile dampens instantly. You kick his boot. “Joel.”

“’sec,” he frowns, “I’m focusing.”

You lean close, pushing on your toes to study the folded slip. His scrawled numbers, the pencil lines blunt and smudged in the creases of the paper.

“Twentytwofortysixeightyninetyfivesixhundredelevenfourtwelvenineteen–”

Joel’s lips seep a maddened sigh; he glances down the aisle like a store attendant might separate you from him if he demanded with enough passion, or maybe if he slipped them a twenty.

“Do you mind?” he barks, his expression a brick wall for your giggles to fall flat to the floor against.

“Home Depot’s your stomping ground. Why the hell do I gotta come watch you pick hinges and timber?”

“Because it’s your damn closet I’m fittin’. Just –” he swipes two packets from their peg, tossing them into the shopping cart, “– come on.”

Joel makes off down the muck-colored floor, the overhead lights reflecting harshly in the shiny surface. The front right wheel of the cart trembles as it rolls, nervously leading the two of you down an aisle lined with cylinder tins and pamphlets on Choosing the right finish.

“So, are your parents gonna be at this wedding?” you ask, taking the cart from Joel’s hands when he drifts off to study a shelf of wood varnish.

His jaw turns towards you, and then back to the tin in his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do I get to meet ‘em?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna introduce your date to your mom and dad?”

He scoffs, stealing a handful of candy. “My fake date?”

“They don’t know that. Let me meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

He holds two tins up, offering them to you like answer to your question. “Matt or gloss? Guess it don’t really matter if I’m painting ‘em after.”

“Stop fuckin’ ignoring me. I hate when you do that.”

He leans in close, lowering the matt varnish into the cart. “You think I’m gonna introduce you ‘n your potty mouth to my mom?”

You smirk, eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Funny. What color paint you want? You said something about duck egg?”

“Planning on repainting my room that color, yeah. Hey, you could –”

He swats your pointed finger away, taking the cart back. “We shook on new wardrobe. No changin’ the deal,” he mutters, wandering over to the rainbow of paint tins on the opposite side of the aisle.

You follow him over, eyes moving from blue over to green, the tins plastered with the fake smiles of families and fluffy pet dogs on the front. “Where are your mom and dad from?” you ask.

“Austin,” he replies, eyes squinting to read the small print on the back of one vibrant shade. You shake your head and guide his wrist back to the shelf, where he obediently sets the heavy tin back. “Never known anywhere else,” he adds. “What about you? Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Potty Mouth?”

“Uh,” you swipe at your nose awkwardly, “they’re up in Allandale. That’s where I grew up.”

“That so? I got a cousin who used to live that way. Used to take my bike up every Saturday. He lived right by this old car shop, all these old classics they used to fix up ‘n resell.”

“Yeah,” you say, “right next to the cemetery, right?”

“That’s the one,” Joel says, lifting paint tins to the light and setting them down again. “They live nearby?”

Your breathing shifts, starts to claw its way up your throat. Your chest heats, skin lighting with an irritating anxiety. “They’re, um,” you gulp, “they’re in the cemetery.”

Joel pauses, letting the tin slip from his grasp with an echoing thud against the wooden shelf which reverberates in your ears a second too long. “Oh,” he says, set on your expression.

“It’s okay – I don’t mind. It’s – it was a car accident, back when I was eight. I wasn’t in it, or anything. I grew up with my grandma. Really, Joel, I don’t mind,” you add, when his face falls and he begins to apologize.

“I had no idea,” he says, and you break the eye contact before you break a fucking sweat.

“’s all good,” you murmur, lifting paint tins of your own now, focusing on deblurring your glossy vision, “I got to buy a big house with the money they left.”

It thaws him a little. He snorts, and taps the lid of the tin you’re holding. “That one’s nice. You, uh – you okay?”

You finally turn back, the world clearer, colors no longer bleeding into one another through sharp tears. “Yeah. I’m fine. We got everything?”

Joel nods, and wheels the cart around. “You can meet her, if you want. My mom. She’s a little full on, but I reckon you can handle her.”

You smile, following him down the aisle.

A month after he delivered your underwear back to you, you’re back on Joel’s doorstep.

Your hand flicks nervously at your side as you wait for him to answer, petals of your corsage quivering. The clip of his footsteps echoes down the stairs, a deep sound growing louder and louder until the door clinks open and you’re separated only by air.

Joel’s eyes scan down your body at the same time yours scan down his. Black suit, sure enough, just without the jacket, and with his tie slung around his loose collar. You both freeze when your eyes meet again, your lips silently forming the shape of an avalanche of words that refuse to sound until Joel’s do.

“Wow, you –”

“– look great, I –”

“– nice dress, is that –? Sorry –”

“– no, I’m sorry, you were – sorry.” A laugh pushes from your throat. “You look – you look good. Scrub up well, ‘n all that.”

“You too. You – Yeah. That’s a nice color, after all. You suit it.” His eyes linger on your chest, your breasts draped in lustrous silk, decorated with the glint of golden jewelry. You notice.

“Thanks. After all?” You snort, and Joel’s exterior seems to crack a little.

He steps back, ushering you in. “Alright,” he says, taking the tote with your change of clothes from your wrist. He watches across the street as you step over the threshold, his fingertips light on your back as you pass by, like little shocks of lightning up your spine. “You know what I meant.”

Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heels clicking along his varnished floor. Your arms lock around your torso, holding your pashmina in place while Joel totters around, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. His shirt stretches from his tight waistband, fabric flattening against his tummy. Your eyes shoot north again when he speaks.

“You mind doin’ my tie? It’ll end up squint if I do.”

“Sure,” you reply, stepping forward.

He buttons the top of his shirt and lifts his chin, staring at the wall behind you as you tug on the black fabric, the silk slipping through your fingers. You steal glances at the trim of his beard, his pink lips beneath the dark bristles; the slope of his nose, the lines on his worn skin.

He’s rough around the edges, sure, a man in his late forties. But there’s something soft about him, something familiar and…comfortable. The pages of a used sketchbook, the lived-in material of a favorite dress.

You pull the knot higher until it’s sitting in the notch below his Adam’s apple, smoothing it down and giving his chest a light pat before stepping back again.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he mumbles, and a spark lights in your chest. “Oh,” he says, holding a finger up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a little white box, holding it out for you to see.

Your cheeks swell, eyes flitting up to acknowledge the proud look on his face. “Very nice. Good job.”

“You can do the honors,” Joel says, handing you the boutonniere by the stem.

You pin it through his lapel, straightening it with a focused glance. Joel’s eyes are on you, watching the flutter of your eyelashes, the tilt of your head. “There,” you whisper, leaning back.

He extends his elbow, something of a smile on his lips. You don’t see it often. It beckons a mirrored expression.

Arm in arm, Joel leads you out to the truck, where he helps you up and waits for you to scoop your dress into the footwell before closing the door. You watch patiently as he locks the front door, slings both your bags over his shoulder and jogs back to the truck, tossing them in the backseat before joining you in the front.

“How come he didn’t send a limousine? Or a Jag, or somethin’?”

“You think we’re made a’ money?” Joel asks, smirking.

You return the smile, wrapping your shawl over your body. “Can I pick the music?” you ask, earnestly, a tinge of sweetness to your voice.

Joel glances over again, reaches behind your headrest to reverse out of the drive. He runs his tongue along his top teeth. “No,” he says.

Three hours later, Tommy and Maria are married.

The wedding is…big. Joel’s family is big. The venue – a rustic hotel suite, fairy lights draped from the rafters, blooming flowers sprouting from crystal vases, lace tablecloths and tied chair cushions and wax dripping from thick, naked candles – is big.

Joel’s been good about it – that friendly neighbor you see all too little has been kicked into high gear. He delivered you by hand straight to his mom – a small woman with silver hair neatly twisted into an updo at the back of her head – who took your hand and held it tightly all the way to your seats.

Kind and warm, she asked where you were from, how you met Joel, how long you’d been dating. She offered you some tissues before the ceremony started, then winked and nodded in Joel’s direction as the bridesmaids swept down the aisle.

You lingered behind the photographer while he took photos of the wedding party, instructing them to shuffle a little closer, that’s it; ma’am, with the red hair, lower your bouquet a little; alright, now, everyone: big smiles!

You worried that Joel had kept the same placated smile frozen on his face for so long that it might never melt away, might never return to the stoic scowl you’re so used to seeing on him. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him, until he waved you down, flicked his hand, and beckoned you over to the group.

You hesitated. I don’t know if I –

Get over here, girl, Tommy had called, grinning alongside his big brother.

The two Millers slotted you in like a jigsaw piece between their bodies, two arms wrapped around your back – Tommy’s, loose on your shoulders, and Joel’s, tight around your waist. He held you close, squeezing you into his side while the photographer praised the party and snapped photo after photo, the flash burning into your eyes by the time he clapped his hands and thanked you all for your patience.

Drink? Joel had asked, and you’d responded with one thumb up, the other massaging your eyelids. He squeezed your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd of bodies.

He’s still over there – by the bar, a wooden structure draped in ivy and studded by steel bolts. His beer in one hand and your wine in the other. A lean, poised figure stood opposite him – her dress a royal purple, her hair a wave of brown spilling over her bare shoulders.

She’s beautiful – a striking charm which draws your eye to her like an arrow directly through the sea of bodies between here and there. Her languid movements, the slow roll of her neck to sweep the hair from one side of her body to the other.

Her head falls back in laugher, her bejeweled hand falls softly on his arm. Your throat closes sharply. Joel nods, angling as if to make off, but she holds onto him and leans in. He laughs, then, at whatever her full lips whisper into his ear, and he finally breaks off from her and returns to you.

He pushes the glass by its base across the smooth tablecloth. Your fingers brush over one another as you trade, the stem sitting between your index and middle. He’s warm, his knuckles kissing yours.

“How was it, then, talkin’ to my mom?” Joel asks.

You smile, propping your chin on the heel of your palm. “I like her. She’s funny.” And then, when he tosses his head in response, “Who were you talkin’ to?”

Joel follows your eyeline over to the woman in the purple dress. The glint of white crystal on her neck. The drama of dark hair on pale skin. “Uh,” he wanders around your back to his chair, “we used to work together.”

Your nails tap against the glass. “Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs. Doesn’t meet your eye. “Yep.”

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

He watches a blue orb dance over your head on the wall, a spot of light from the disco ball over the dancefloor. “Lotta memories.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes plummet. Fall from the string bulbs straight to your face, sparkling in the rainbow lights. “You want me to look at you? There.”

You grin. “’s better. If you stare up there long enough, they might stick.”

“Safer to have ‘em stuck on you, is it?”

“Mhm,” your voice echoes around the curve of your wine glass, “better view. So, who is she?”

Joel shifts uncomfortably. He twirls the bottle in his fingers. “We…we were together for some time. A few years.”

“An ex,” you muse, stain of lipstick left on the rim of your glass. “How many years?”

“Eight.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Eight – eight years?”

Joel nods, waiting for you to catch your breath. Expression never changing. Bottle still twirling. “Haven’t seen her in a while. We were just catchin’ up.”

“Eight fucking years. Why the fuck aren’t you married?”

He scoffs. “That’s a fifth-date question.” He lifts the bottle to his lips, tongue pushes against the glass.

“I don’t need five fuckin’ wardrobes,” you quip, and he laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. His head tips back, his teeth show. Your chest swells, confidence and relief blooming there. She didn’t make him laugh like that – not from where you were watching.

It becomes something of a mission in the back of your mind – tallying up how many times you can make his chest shudder, his shoulders jerk. How many times he leans in closer and repeats whatever you said, eyes closing over and hand hitting his thigh. How many times he looks at you and your stomach flutters, the blood cartwheels through your veins, the bones of your ribcage readjust and make room for the swelling of your heart.

Within four rounds, you’ve lost count.

The thudding beat of the music muffles in your drunken ears, like it’s coming from the next room. Your gaze fixes on the vase in the center of the table, the bouquet spilling over the glass. The wide burst of speckled lilies, the humble blush of tulips between. The colors soften and blur the longer you stare at them.

The jerk of Joel’s shoulders stirs you from your daydream. That’s one more.

“What?” you ask, head rolling to look over to him.

“You still in there?” he asks, one word slurring into the next like waves lapping.

You scoff, looking back to the pink flowers. “You know who has tulips?” you ask him.

He lifts his eyebrows. Who?

“Alice.”

“Brown?”

Your head nods heavily. “One time, she was out getting her mail, and I had just pulled up in my car on the phone to my best friend – he’d just broken up with his girlfriend, it was a whole thing…” You bat your hand. “Anyway. She pretended to tend to her tulips for forty-five minutes while I sat talkin’ to him in the driveway.”

Joel’s head tilts back with a burst of laughter. “She hear every word?”

“Every – damn – word. Stood by the fence listenin’.”

“That woman is som’ else,” Joel says, shaking his head. He stares down at the bottle between his fingers. His thumbs play with the curled corner of the label. “Didn’t I warn you about her?”

“Mhm.” You smile, realizing he has the same memory that you do, locked up somewhere in his mind. The sweat running down his temple, the dark patch between his shoulder blades. His hands gripping the heavier boxes, leaving you to carry the linen, the base of a lamp. Nodding as he wandered back over to his own porch, calling back for you to Holler if you need anythin’.

The high squeal of the Sweet Child O’ Mine intro snaps you back to the wedding reception. Tommy and Maria are playing air guitar on the dancefloor over Joel’s shoulder. You unstick your gaze from his white shirt, unsure how long you’ve been fucking staring.

Joel sits forward, drags his chair across the polished floor closer to you. He fixes the strap on your dress, untwisting it before settling back again. Your eyes follow his fingers as they leave your shoulder and sit back on the curve of his thigh, lifting when his voice breaks through to your eardrums.

“What room number did you say you were, again?”

Your shoulders roll. “Thirty-four, I think.”

Joel nods. Points to himself. “Thirty-six.” And then he glances over his shoulder, watches as Tommy kneels before Maria and rocks his head, his messy mop of hair tossed across his shoulders. The older Miller brother turns back. “Think they’ll miss us if we call it a night?”

“We’re callin’ it a night?”

“Figure if I’m headin’ off then you won’t wanna be sat here by yourself,” Joel says, and he’s right. He stands up, sets the half-empty bottle on the tablecloth and stares down at you. “I’m callin’ it a night,” he tells you. “You comin’?”

The colors in the room spin like the reels of a slot machine. Your fingers sit lightly in his outstretched palm, and you pull yourself up alongside him.

“’s a good girl,” he mutters, looking over your shoulder to the doorway, and your eyes sober up long enough to catch the flicker in his eye.

You totter along the hallway, arm in arm, anchoring yourselves together. Whichever way one sways, the other inevitably follows. You’re laughing, and Joel’s hushing you, warning that there are folks tryna – tryna sleep, we’re in a fancy place, hey, da-rlin’, no – you gotta shhhut up.

“Great party,” you decide, finally docking against your door.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, leaning a little on the wall. The gentle glow of the hallway lights him perfectly; the strong angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. The hazel pools that make up his irises, the swollen circles of black in the middle. And the twinkle in them, like the moon reflecting on dark water, every time his gaze lifts to you.

He’s different tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol. The way it colors everything in a peachy film, all objects softened and rosy and shapeless. But he feels different, too. You suddenly realize, shoulder pressed hard against the cold doorframe, that you’ve never touched one another more than you have today. His elbow in yours, his arm around your waist, his hand through yours as you danced together.

“Are you tired?” you ask, head rolling.

“Tired? No. Drunk, yeah. Not tired.” He laughs again. It’s infectious.

“You wanna come inside?” you ask, words leaping from your giggle.

He takes ten seconds to consider it. Slumps into the wall, steadied only by his forearm pushing him back upright. His watch face catches the light behind him.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, I do.”

Your hand fumbles in your clutch for the keycard, swiping the handle and pushing down heavily. You spill into the dark room, light sneaking in from the sconce outside your window, and spin back to face him, his hand locked tight with yours.

Joel follows you slowly as you back towards the bed, kicking your heels off and tripping over the skirt of your dress. When your legs hit the plush mattress, his body leans into yours. Your lips ghost across his, your words pushing them apart one by one.

“This ain’t – part of the – agreement,” you murmur, the coarse hair of his beard scratching your chin. You pull apart his tie, loosening the knot.

“Changed my mind,” he replies, collapsing on top of you on the bed.

Your head rolls back when his lips suck into your neck. You wrestle with his belt, with the waist of his suit trousers. “No changin’ the deal, remember?”

“Tell me to stop.”

If you had any intention of answering him, your body overrides it. Words lassoed and dragged back down where they came from, your throat opening only to gasp when Joel’s teeth graze the flesh of your breast. His fingers tug on the straps of your dress, letting them fall from your shoulders until your chest sits exposed.

He drags his tongue along your skin, dipping between your tits while his hands massage them, fingers pinching your nipples. Your back lifts and his hands move beneath, following the curve of your spine to where your dress pools loose around your waist. He pushes down, slinking the smooth fabric from your body.

“You fuckin’…” He clicks his teeth, laughing behind them. Another flush of heat washes over your skin.

You giggle, bending your knees to cover the lace panties he knows all too fucking well. Joel stops you, pushes your legs back down with two heavy hands.

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he murmurs, opening your body up again. “You were so happy about me seein’ ‘em a few weeks ago, no?”

“’s different,” you reply, tang of alcohol fueling your words, “now I just want you to take them off me.”

He cocks his head, drinking every word you’re handing over like it’s water from an oasis. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t you?”

You pull him closer by the collar and line your mouth against his, the tip of your tongue wetting the inside of his lips. “You got no fucking idea,” you whisper, whipping the shirt from his torso.

Joel growls, flipping you over and pulling you by the shoulders flush against his chest. You hook an arm around his neck, turn to grant him access to your lips. He kisses you like a starved animal, savoring every taste, teeth nipping at your tingling lips.

His hand curves around your hips, pushing beneath your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger pushing on the spongey hood of your clit. Your head falls limp against his collarbone, back arching as Joel holds you steady with an arm around your waist.

“’s alright, baby,” he coos, his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna take good care of ya. Gonna give you what you need, alright?”

A strangled moan unravels across your tongue, echoing into Joel’s mouth. Your hips begin to gyrate, meeting the rhythm of his hand, his finger massaging rough circles into your clit. He smirks, peeling the panties down your thighs.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “you want it bad, huh? Gettin’ so worked up so fast. Here.”

He removes his hand from between your legs, ignoring your moan of protest and replacing it with two fingers on your bottom lip. “Open,” he instructs, and you obey like a fucking dog. He slips them in, thick and heavy, and waits for you to coat them with your wine-stained tongue.

Joel pushes down, forcing a muffled gag from your throat which lifts the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head lightly, whispering, “You got it, ‘s okay.”

A thread of saliva strings between his fingers and your lips when he lowers his hand again, trailing his fingers through your folds until he’s dancing along the seam of your cunt. You jolt forward; Joel hauls you back.

“Just fucking – do it,” you whimper, your walls clenching around nothing.

He holds his fingers together, curling and inserting them in a painfully slow motion. Your knees widen on the mattress, body sinking down by instinct to meet his fist, to feel his thick fingers and wide knuckles as deep as they’ll go.

You gasp when Joel begins hooking them inside you, nudging against your walls like your heartbeat against your clit. Your hand lowers, slipping beneath his loose waistband, beneath the elastic of his boxers and around his already solid cock.

Joel groans, fucking you harder on his hand. “Fuck, just like that, baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Uhuh,” you reply, voice wanton and broken.

You squeeze him, your fist moving up and down, his warm skin following the movements of your tight grip. His tip is already soaked, precome staining his underwear, dribbling down your thumb.

Joel uses his free hand to shove his pants down, crumpling on the floor at his feet when they free his cock. You carve your mouth around his, the two of you exchanging breath and flicking your tongues together as you fuck one another’s hands, the room slowly filling with the hot, muggy smell of sex.

Joel’s the first to cave. With a jerk of his hips, he takes you by the wrist and frees himself from your clutches.

“You’re gonna make me come, darlin’,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from your cunt.

“That’s kinda the point here,” you reply, teeth bumping into his in a grin.

Joel shakes his head, lifting his hand, glistening with your arousal. “Gotta feel this fucking pussy first.”

You smile, parting your lips for him for the second time, suckling on his fingers and licking them clean of your own salty slick. His cock draws sticky trails on the seam of your thigh.

“Yeah,” Joel breathes, eyes fixed on the place where you close around him, “that good, baby? You gonna let me taste you?”

You release his fingers and he pulls you in, tongue slipping against yours with a groan which vibrates against your jaw. When your lips part, you hold your mouth open, your tongue sat on your bottom lip.

Joel reacts instantly, collecting a bead of saliva in front of his teeth and letting it drop into your mouth. You moan and swallow it, a cocktail of beer and whiskey and slick. Joel watches as you lick your lips, the stained-pink coated in a thick, white shine.

“Alright,” he says, letting you fall forward onto the bed. He jacks himself a few times, spitting into his hand and using it to coat his cock.

“Want you to come in it,” you whine, wiggling your ass for him as he lines up at your slit. You can feel the arousal gathered on his tip, dripping down your cunt.

“Yeah, baby,” Joel growls, a smirk on his lips as he watches himself slowly disappear inside you. And then –

You both fall silent, mouths hanging wide open as you each feel the width of his cock and the tightness of your cunt. The way your body opens up to accommodate his size, the direct pain and ethereal pleasure of Joel pushing into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your pussy drawing him in with a sweet, wet sound. “Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. So damn gorgeous in that dress.”

You slowly move your hips back to meet him at the base of his cock; dark, trimmed hair bristling against your lips. Joel’s hands lock around your waist, holding you steady with his entirety buried inside, letting you adjust to him.

He’s so fucking big, so wide and deep that your breath tears rugged from your lungs, barreling up your windpipe. Your walls squeeze tight as he pulls out like your body refuses to let him go, like your cells understand better than you do that you were made for this – made for him. Like the only place in the world that he belongs, is somewhere deep inside you.

So big that it hurts, each time he fills you up and stretches you wide open. The pain an eye-rolling, lung-closing, limb-shaking sensation.

Your elbows give, falling chest-first onto the mattress while Joel fucks you hard, his hands gripping your hips. Your cheek and breasts flat against the sheets, your back arched. He slams into you, edging you closer and closer with each meeting of his warm skin against yours, each sopping slap of come and saliva.

The mattress shifts above your head, two valleys where his palms push down heavily, then the weight of his body at the back of your thighs. He towers over you, hips hammering so hard that you’re forced to hook your fingers around his wrists just to stay on the same fucking planet.

“Gonna – fuckin’ – come – baby,” he spits, his jaw locked tight. “You want it in this little pussy? You think she can take it all?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the edges of your words rounded by the silk sheets. “Joel, I – fuck –”

“Yeah, she can,” he agrees, playing with the hair spilling across your shoulders and taking it in a fistful.

The hazy drunken blur begins to turn over in favor of something sharper, something electric pulsing through your veins. Every part of your body alive, everything rising to meet the same high, the same release. You cling onto him, body beginning to melt beneath his.

Joel’s lips press between your shoulder blades. “Don’t fight it, baby, let go. I got you.”

You moan his name in one last pathetic attempt before the world whitens. You clench around him as a deafening orgasm shocks through your body, curling your back and forcing your nails deep into Joel’s wrists.

“Fuck, baby, fuck me,” Joel gasps. He slams into you one final time before you feel the staggered pump of his come flooding between your walls. “Ahh,” he groans, pushing apart your ass cheeks to watch the trickle seep from your cunt. “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He turns you over onto your back and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him against your body as he thrusts into you again, tenderly pushing his spend deeper inside. It draws a strained moan from your throat.

“’s alright,” he coos, hips slowing against yours, “just feel it, baby. You feel how deep I am?”

“Uhuh,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, damp with sweat.

“So fuckin’ full of me,” he says, more to himself, before collapsing alongside you, holding your thigh on his hip, his tip still sheathed inside you.

You lie like that for a while, listening to the distant hum of music from downstairs, the party still raving in the belly of the hotel while you two lay in content bliss somewhere in its ribcage. Tracing one another’s features, learning the lines on Joel’s face, the flecks of gray in his eyebrows – all the parts you’re never close nor brave enough to get to know.

His right hand massages your plush waist, his left arm a pillow to rest your heavy, dizzy, drunk head on.

“I wanna do it again,” you whisper, the words sneaking out between heavy breaths.

Joel nods. His bottom lip sticks with sweat to yours. His hips push a little neater into you. “I wanna do it again, too.”

“I wanna do it all night.”

He hasn’t stopped nodding. He shrugs, tightens his grip around your shoulders, and tilts his head. “Then let’s do it all fucking night,” he says, and his lips slam back into yours.

The morning after the wedding, Joel drives you home. The truck soars down the highway, the two of you an uncomfortable distance apart. The same sobering distance you’ve kept all morning – the unreal aftermath of sex.

The rolling waves of bedsheets between your bodies; the sun sifting her long fingers through his hair as she peered through the curtains. The way you’d silently pushed yourself from the mattress, fragmenting your movements and allowing the spring to dip a fraction at a time so not to wake him. The spongey feel of the hotel carpet under the balls of your feet as you’d tottered to the bathroom. The sharp shot of the lock sliding into place, echoing like a bullet.

He waited until you finished showering to get ready himself. Sat on the edge of the bed patiently and watched your shadow beneath the door, the to-and-fro of your silhouette breaking the sliver of golden light as you dressed your sticky body. When you pulled on the metal lock again, he was sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose. His bare shoulders were curved, and tanned. You blinked twice to store the image and turned away as he stood.

He says he feels hungover. You say you do, too. It’s the closest you come to talking about it. You hop out of the truck in his drive, your tote bag hooked on your shoulder. The canvas gnawing at the silk inside. Joel tells you he’ll see his end of the deal through in a couple weeks.

“Real busy with work,” he mutters apologetically, his wrists still balancing on the steering wheel.

“That’s good,” you tell him, nodding. “I ain’t in any rush. I know where you live, so.”

A relieved laugh pushes from his lips. “I will get to it,” he assures you.

You shrug casually. “Whenever, Joel.”

You don’t talk for a few days. A few days bleeds into three weeks. You find yourself stood by his front tires, throwing his newspaper onto the porch and scampering when it lands. The noise like a bomb dropping.

Slowly, as the month draws on, you become braver and braver – daring closer and closer to his front door, until you’re back to marching up the steps like you own the place, depositing the roll on his doormat. Rubbing your thumbs against your fingers to feel the ink like satin.

The door cracks open as you make your way back down his steps one bright morning.

“Hey, kid,” Joel murmurs, reaching down for the paper with a groan.

“Hey.”

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, leaning his forearm against the door.

Your head tilts back and forth, your hand lifting to shield your eyes from the sun. “Think I ate som’ bad, maybe. Weird stomach this mornin’.”

Joel’s chin angles. “Hope it ain’t contagious. Was thinkin’ I could get that closet started for you, maybe tomorrow?”

The offer takes you off guard. You buffer for a few seconds before answering, “Sure. Sure, just, uh – just come over whenever, I guess.”

“Nine work for you?”

You nod. “Nine’s good. See ya then.”

It’s something like nine when you find out.

You wake feeling groggy. Tired, sluggish. A heavy ache pulling on your breasts as you rise from bed, tender and swollen. You stand in the bathroom, milky morning light filtering in through the doorway, and your stomach lurches. Waves of nausea deep in your belly, rocking back and forth, swirling and spiraling.

You’ve a box under your sink. It makes sense. Before Joel was some date from Hinge, who fucked you against the wall of his living room and who snored so loud that you left before the sun came up. Negative. Like always.

But it never hurts to be sure.

The pack tears like it’s liquid in your hands. Peels back to reveal the plastic white test, the bubblegum pink cap – like it’s something fun and sweet to place the direction of your future into this little device. A clinical compass needle.

Three to five minutes. You set it down on the counter and drag yourself back through to your room, lifting your bedsheets, tucking them under the mattress, heaving your pillows back into place against the headboard. An uncomfortable heat boiling under the surface of your skin, a prickle of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck.

A sickly taste harboring on your tongue, you pad back to the bathroom and swipe the test up. Your eyes scan past the result window to the counter as you reach for your toothbrush – and then snap abruptly back to the tiny oval. Your outstretched hand freezes in midair. There’s no fucking w–

Your arm swings back to reach for the light cord. The bulb hesitates – flickers, like it’s unsure whether to reveal the truth to you. It knows something you don’t. It’s seen something it doesn’t want to show you. You stare at the pregnancy test.

Two little pink lines stare back. And Joel knocks at your door.

#forgive me for it not being clm or sof #they're coming very soon i promise #this was too fun an idea not to chase #i have the attention span of my labrador retrievers (nil) #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller

[churipu]

can i request the reader being gojo's younger (or little, if that's what you prefer) sister during their highschool days? i think the dynamic between her and geto would be really cute and sweet! meanwhile, shoko would be the tired aunt that has to watch every stupid thing that stsg and the reader does 😭

๋࣭⭑ A CHAOTIC FOURSOME ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

featuring. gojo satoru, shoko ieiri, geto suguru + gojo's little sister

warning. time sequence is during their highschool days (2006) and i'd say the reader would be younger than gojo by a year, so she's as old as nanami and haibara :D

note. i'm actually like so ecstatic to write this because i have so many assumptions of gojo with a younger sister, thank you nonnie for requesting this, ily <;33

the mother x the dumb x the dumber x the dumbest

no doubt that shoko is the mother of the group, without her the whole group is just well, plainly chaotic. satoru will come up for stupid plans, hence the dumbest. you will undoubtedly follow him, hence the dumber. and geto will think it's stupid, but will follow him, hence the dumb.

"okay, so what if we just — find a way to summon a curse, and sell our soul to it for something in return?" satoru asks with a cheeky grin.

"sounds cool, i'm in!" you replied with a large toothy grin.

"that must be the stupidest idea i have ever heard in my life," geto sighs out, "but let's do it."

"i don't have a soul," shoko mutters out of the blue, sighing out, "and you guys are incredibly stupid, you know that?" at the end of the day, the plan didn't even commence nor did you all talked about it again.

you are the closest with geto, he treats you like a little sister as well — except he's a little less of an asshole than your actual brother.

satoru is an asshole. he's a pain in the ass, no doubt. all three— you, geto, and shoko— can and will admit the fact that out of you four, satoru is the brattiest. however though, being related to him by blood, you were his target most of the time.

"ouch! satoru, did you really just shoot me with a nerf gun? that fucking hurts you ass!" you hiss, rubbing your nape— where satoru just shot with a nerf gun.

"take that, peasant." satoru sings out, attempting to shoot two more bullets at you, one hitting your arm and the other barely missing you.

you ran to shoko who immediately flee, leaving you open to satoru, traitor. before you eventually seek shelter behind geto who was sitting down on a bench, sipping a drink; and oh boy, the bullet managed to hit his face.

"oh shit." satoru mumbled, "it was an accident, suguru."

"damn." you look at geto, before laughing lightly.

geto smiled at your brother before standing up, and the cat-and-mouse chase between them both begin. geto made sure you were alright after, and satoru was— yeah, he survived, just a little bruised here and there.

being siblings is funny, satoru's closet is your closet too.

"y/n, is that my shirt?" satoru asks, pointing at the white shirt you were wearing and you hummed softly, sipping on a carton of milk.

satoru began lecturing you and how you shouldn't snoop in his closet, "lord, save me." you muttered out, walking in between shoko and geto while your brother constantly turned towards you to lecture you about asking for permission.

"are you even listening to me, brat?"

shoko grunted, "make him shut up, please."

"it's not her fault that she looks better in your shirt, satoru," geto laughed lightly, and that somehow managed to shut your brother up for the rest of the day— until he opens the door to your room late at night with a pout on his face.

"my shirt does not look better on you, for your information."

"oh my god, satoru you're so childish!"

as much as satoru teases you, when it comes to protecting you— he's number one, and he will always worry about you. he will not hesitate to tell someone off if they're bothering you.

"so, who is it?" satoru asks, his eyes not leaving the television screen.

you sat next to him and hummed in confusion. earlier you had gotten home with a small bruise right next to your lip, and as hard as you tried to cover it with make up — satoru still noticed the bluish purple outline of the bruise.

"what do you mean?"

"who gave you the bruise?" he asks again, calmly. way too calm for your liking, to be honest.

"i fell."

satoru finally turned to look at you, "doesn't look like you fell, just tell me what happened, it's not like 'm gonna do anything—maybe." he mumbled out the last part under his breath.

you sighed out, knowing the male won't drop the topic unless you tell him about it, "you know that one guy who wouldn't stop bothering me just because i beat him up in middle school for ruining my comic book?"

"the one i already try to tell off last time?" you nodded at him, "damn it, i should've gotten rid of him that time. want me to hollow purple him or do you prefer a more friendly approach?"

you chuckled, "i can fix this myself."

"nu-uh," he rolled his eyes, "hollow purple it is."

"'toru!"

"sheesh, fine friendly approach it is."

shoko and geto tries their best to look after you and satoru, but they don't get paid for this and always ends up giving up halfway and just joins in the "fun".

"oh, come on satoru, this is like the worst plan ever!" you tell him, crossing your arms.

"what? why? is it because i made it?" he argues, crossing his arms as well.

"no — okay, yes, maybe. but still it's a shitty plan, right?" you look over to geto and shoko who only nodded in forced affirmation, in all honesty, they didn't know what was happening between you and your brother or whatever you both were talking about.

"suguru, even you?" satoru whines out, "traitor."

"see? what about we go for my plan instead?" you offered, and satoru immediately declines, arguing with you.

it took you both two hours to finally settle on doing nothing because you got tired, and satoru got too angry that geto had to drag him away.

when satoru was supposedly "killed" by the sorcerer killer, toji. you were fucking destroyed. until he actually shows up, looking more alive than ever.

"oh, you're alive?" you asked slowly, although in disbelief.

satoru chuckled, opening his arms for you to fall into, "don't say it like that, might think that my own sister doesn't love me," not like you spent the whole time crying over him.

"fucking ass. i hate you so much." you hugged him.

"i love you too."

satoru spoils you. and when he does, he makes sure geto and shoko gets little of it too (because you told him to do it so they would feel loved).

"i was thinking — satoru treating us three to shabu?" geto immediately agrees with no hesitation, no thoughts, he just agreed to what you said.

satoru looks at you and smiled sweetly. a fake one. but it was fun watching him like this so you didn't care, "shoko?"

"free food? hell yeah." shoko nods her head with a smirk.

satoru ended up feeding all three of you like a mama feeding her child, and you ended up getting a scolding from him and a threat that goes a little like: "that's the last time i'm spending my money on you, loser."

but you know he didn't mean that. just watch how he'll probably get you something the very next day.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo as your brother #geto suguru #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #shoko #geto #gojo #satoru #suguru #jjk ieiri #jjk geto

[companionjones]

The Love Expert

Pairing: Beck Oliver x Reader

Fandom: Victorious (Nickelodeon)

Summary: You’re the Love Expert of Hollywood Arts. You’re responsible for putting all the great couples together, including Beck and Jade. What will you do when they break up?

Warnings: None that I can think of

*******

    When Beck and Jade broke up, it affected you in a few different ways. In one, it felt like your parents had gotten a divorce all over again. Beck and Jade were the couple of Hollywood Arts. It broke your heart to see them go their separate ways.

    In another way, Beck and Jade breaking kind of hurt your reputation. You see, you were the one who got them together in the first place. You were known as sort of a love expert at Hollywood Arts. Getting Beck and Jade together had been your greatest feat. They were so opposite on the outside that you were sure no one else could have done it. But Beck kept Jade grounded, and Jade kept Beck guessing, and suddenly you had one of the greatest couples you had ever seen.

    Now that they had broken up, honestly, you had been feeling kind of down on yourself. You decided to go for an easy love. A couple that just needed an extra push to become official.

    Robbie and Cat weren’t that hard to set up. Just a little meddling later, the two were holding hands as they went to lunch.

    But they were easy. You wanted something difficult. Something you could sink your teeth into, like the old days.

    Your eyes widened as Beck walked by the table you were sitting at, alone. “Hey, Beck.” You got up to follow him.

    It seemed he knew exactly why you were talking to him. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted as he knowingly rolled his eyes.

    “So, you and Jade broke up?”

    “Mhm.”

    “Any particular reason why?”

    He thought for a moment. “We...had different interests.” He sat down at his normal lunch table.

    “Different interests?” You absentmindedly sat next to him. “Interests that I didn’t know about? I highly doubt it.”

    Beck shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Y/n.”

    “Interesting...” You bit your lip, thinking. “Do you have any interest in getting back off the market?”

    His eyebrows raised. He gave you a once-over, then smirked. “Maybe.”

    “Great. Come to my house at 7:30 sharp tonight,” you told him.

    “Hey, how come you never tried to pair me with anybody?” Tori asked.

    You hadn’t noticed she was sitting at the same table. Straightforwardly, you answered, “Because you never asked. And no one asked to be paired with you.”

    Tori pouted at your words. “Ouch.”

    “Don’t feel that bad about it,” you tried your best to comfort her, “It’s rare that I get someone asking to be paired with a specific someone else. And the person that I see you being with has never approached me, anyway.”

    “Oh yeah? And who’s that?” Tori wondered, almost jokingly.

    “André Harris.”

    Tori let the bits of salad she was holding in her mouth drop back onto her plate. “Me and-and André?”

    “Yes.”

    She blinked. “Well, that’s impossible, because André and I are just friends.” Suddenly, it was like she was trying to convince herself of that statement.

    “Yeah, okay.” You gathered your things. “You two have a fine lunch.”

    “Wait.” Tori stopped you. “How come you don’t see me and Beck as a couple?”

    Beck put down his fork and stared, surprised, at Tori.

    You shrugged. “Because with Beck, it’s either Jade, or no one.” And with that, you walked away.

    It was nearing 8 that night when there was a knock on your door.

    “Beck?! What are you doing? You’re late!” You were walking away from the door as quickly as you answered it.

    He followed you to your dining room table. “You invited me here. I don’t ever show up on time the first time I’m invited places. I don’t like the power dynamic it creates.”

    “So, does that mean you’ll be on time from now on?”

    Beck just shrugged, and grinned when you got exasperated.

    “Anyway,” you tried to move on, “Plans to get you back with Jade...” You started looking through the papers you had spread out on the table.

    “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Beck gently grabbed your arm to get you to stop moving. “I don’t want to get back together with Jade.”

    “What?” You didn’t understand. “Then...why did you come here?”

    He answered softly, “Because I thought this was going to be a date with you.”

    You pulled your arm from his grasp, and just looked at him.

    Beck defended his stance. “You asked me today if I wanted to get ‘back off the market’?”

    It took you a second to respond. “...I also said that it’s either Jade or no one when it comes to you.”

    He looked a little sheepish at that. “...I guess I wanted this so much that I kinda...didn’t listen to that?”

    “You...wanted this?” It was like your brain couldn’t compute what was going on.

    Beck smiled. “Yeah. Do you want this too?”

    “It doesn’t matter what I want.” You answered so fast that you didn’t think about it.

    Beck’s gaze softened at that. “What do you--”

    “I would like you to leave now.” You wouldn’t look at him.

    “What? Why--?”

    “I said I would like you to leave.”

    “Okay! Okay.” Beck put his hands up in surrender, and started headed towards the door.

    You didn’t breathe again until the door shut behind him.

    The next day at school, Tori was pestering you about André.

    “No, but seriously. There are hundreds of boys to choose from. Why me and André?”

    You rolled your eyes, but you had a smirk on your lips. “Because look at you two. You guys are best friends. That’s a great foundation for any relationship.”

    “Yeah. But what if we’re just...friends...” Tori trailed off. She had a lot of thoughts running through her head.

    Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Beck walking toward you in the hallway. You turned away before he saw you. “So, I’ll let you go through all that. Meanwhile, I’m gonna go--”

    “Hey, Y/n!” Beck caught sight of you.

    You started booking it down the hallway.

    Unfortunately, Beck was faster than you. He didn’t grab you to make you stop. Beck just ran in front of you and blocked from running any farther. “Y/n, come on. I just want to talk.”

    Exhaling through your nose, you looked around at all the eyes on you. You then tugged Beck into the janitor’s closet. You shut the door. “It’s what you said,” you told Beck.

    He seemed immediately concerned. “Something I said yesterday? What did I say?”

    Embarrassed, you mumbled under your breath.

    “What?” Beck stepped closer to you.

    “You said you wanted to go out with me,” you informed, a little clearer, yet you were still self-conscious.

    A smirk flashed across his face. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

    Not knowing what else to do, you eyed the door for an escape.

    Beck gently put a hand on your arm. “No, no. Tell me why that’s a problem. If you don’t like me in the same way, that’s fine--”

    “No!” you responded a little too loudly. You felt your skin grow hot. “People...don’t...like me. They only like what I can do.”

    Beck began, “Well, I think what you can do is cool too. To this day, I still don’t know how you managed to get me and Jade together. But Y/n, I gotta be honest, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you too. You’re smart, smarter than anyone I know, and talented, and, well, not to mention, attractive.”

    You didn’t know how you were still standing upright. “Well, I-I never thought you in that way before, Beck. I remember when I was pairing you and Jade up I figured you were one of the best actors in this school. You don’t do it much, but you have a really beautiful singing voice. You care about your friends lie no one I’ve ever seen, and--”

    Beck kissed you.

    The kiss wasn’t much, just a simple meeting of the lips, but you suddenly felt like you were floating through the air.

    Beck slowly parted from you. “Was that your first kiss?”

    “Was it that obvious?” you wondered, worried.

    Beck chuckled and shook his head. “No.” He leaned in for another kiss.

    A little while later, you and Beck emerged from the janitor’s closet, hand-in-hand.

    Connected hands was something you had in common with Tori and André, whom you saw walking down the hallway. “Y/n! Look!” Tori waved you down and brought your your attention to her and André’s hands.

    Just as you were nodding your approval, you spotted another couple striding down the hallway, hand-in-hand. Jade and...Trina.

    “That’s right! I am now dating the second scariest girl at at Hollywood Arts,” Trina bragged. “So everyone better back off and leave us alone. KK?”

    Wow. You did not see that coming. You looked at Beck. He just shrugged. He shared a smirking ‘We did it’ look with Jade as the WLW couple rounded the corner, and Jade put an arm around Trina’s shoulder.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#beck oliver #beck oliver x reader #victorious #victorious nickelodeon #avan jogia #companion jones #the love expert

[xhoneygirlxx]

Love Ridden

Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: moving sucks, especially when you don't know anyone and you don't have any friends. one day a black cat comes and keeps you company, maybe he won't be the only friend you make.

warnings: pure fluff. neighbor!eddie. pronouns aren't used, reader's body/ethnicity/skin tone is not mentioned. reader and eddie are both in their twenties. swearing. slight angst: mentions of loneliness. I'm an 18+ blog, minors please go away. not proofread, shitty writing and grammar errors.

*if i miss anything lmk know!

a/n: day three of my birthday week!!! you guys have been so lovely, i love you all so much!! i hope you guys have been enjoying this week as much as i have!! I'm so sorry for the late upload, life has been pretty busy this week!

I guess I wouldn’t mind to fall in love a little bit. 

Ouch, I think I feel a little more.

Stepping out onto the small porch, you're met the chill of the morning air, your nose and cheeks being victim to the cold nip of the wind. The watercolor gray sky hides the sun behinds it's endless clouds. Birds chirp a song in the empty trees before they flap their wings, taking off in flight.

It's peaceful here, quieter than the city life than you were so used to. Out here in Forrest Hills you didn't have to worry about honking cars or the chatter of drunk college students walking home from the bar at odd hours of the night. Out here in the middle of nowhere, you had yourself and the company of strangers you had yet to meet.

Only being here for two weeks, you haven't been able to meet the other people that occupy the surrounding trailers. For now they're only nameless faces, people who go to work and mind their business. Sometimes, like today, you like to sit on the front steps of your porch, drinking a piping hot cup of coffee, and just watch them as they go about their day.

You like to imagine what they do for living, what their names are, and what their story is. This has become your entertainment, the highlight of your day before you go back inside all by yourself. It's scary moving to a new place, meeting new people, and trying to make friends. As of right now, your only friend is the lady at the supermarket, Suze. Besides the people watching, hearing Suze say "Have a good day, dear" have become the highlight of your life.

It's not that you don't want to be social, you just don't know where to start. You're awkward, even back home it was hard to find the right social circle. So the safety of your trailer, the comfort of your four walls, and your once a week interaction with Suze the cashier was enough for you.

Lifting your Snoopy mug to your lips, you let the warm liquid coat your throat and fill you with warmth that the fall air seems to lack. The small gravel path lays still, everyone seemingly already off to work or school. Since you missed your morning entertainment, you stick to keeping your eyes on the sky and letting the comforting silence fall around you.

Meow.

You don't move your gaze, rather shutting your eyes and letting the small breeze move past you.

Meow.

Cracking an eye open, you gaze around the small area of the road in hopes of finding the animal making noise, hoping you're not going stir crazy with your lack of human interaction.

Meow.

Meow.

Meow.

You're neck snaps back and forth, trying to look around the general area for whatever kitty that is trying to communicate with you. It's high grass on the one side and an empty dirt path on the other, no sign of life in sight. Yup, you've seemingly have lost all of your marbles.

Meow.

The feeling of something brushing your leg startles you, but not enough to scare the chubby black cat, who purrs against your plaid pj bottoms, away. When it turns it's green eyes to you, it meows once more.

"Hi little guy," You coo softly at the animal, placing a hand out tentatively for it to sniff, "whatcha doin' out here in the cold?"

Leaning it's hand onto the tips of your fingers, you get the hint and start scratching lightly on it's head.

"Aren't you cold out here, honey?" You question and it only responds by lifting its chin. You oblige and rub along it's next causing the cat's eyes to close in enjoyment.

"You were just talkin' earlier, now you don't want to, huh? Not when you're gettin' all this love." Your voice is baby like, lips perched just a bit as you move your fingers to the tips of it's ears.

Quickly the cat moves away from your touch and looks at you wide eyed and curious like. Not wanting to scare it away just yet, you lightly tap your lap, beckoning it to move closer to you.

Surprisingly the cat listens, trotting up the two steps and curls itself into you. The purrs that carry through it's body settles into you and brings you a kind of warmth no hot temperature could ever do.

With the chunky fur ball nestled on your thighs you feel wanted, excepted for the first time since you moved here. The loneliness that you've felt, encaged into the tin walls of your trailer, suddenly evaporates with the simple presence of the animal.

"Do you have a name, little guy?" Speaking softly to the comfy cat, you hesitantly run a finger along it's neck in search for a collar.

With no collar or any sort of tag to tell you the cat is someone else's, you begin to check for other things without disturbing it. The black fur is soft in your fingers and lacks any sort of dirt buildup, no signs of fleas, and the fact that it seems like it's well fed point to it being a house cat.

Checking your surroundings, you try to see if anyone is out looking for their lost animal. No other porch in eyeshot is occupied, only the empty street and the quiet noise of bare trees rustling.

"Well, you don't seem to belong to anyone," It's as soft as the wind that flows through the grass, "You can live with me. Would you like that?"

Meow.

The cat nudges it's head further into the plush of your thighs and you take that as your answer. "Yeah, I'd like that too. How do you feel about the name Ozzy?"

The question doesn't seem to spark any sort of reaction from the cat, still cuddled up against you and purring in satisfaction.

"Okay then, Ozzy, do you wanna come in and have a treat?" Your finger continues to brush through the short hair of the cat, raking over the spots it can't reach on it's own.

Letting Ozzy lay on you for a moment more, you go to pick up your coffee mug hoping that the brown liquid inside is still somewhat warm. With the slightest move of your arm, Ozzy wakes up and stretches.

Before you can offer the warmth of your trailer, Ozzy is off of you lap and trotting down the steps. It's desperate and selfish but you're not about to lose your first friend, so you follow after it in the hopes you can scoop it up and take it home.

"Ozzy, come on don't you want some tuna?" Even with the promise of an appetizing bowl of breakfast, the cat continues to make it's way across the dirt path street.

When Ozzy makes it to the trailer cat corner to yours, it trots up the steps and settles on the small porch. Blinking slowly at you, it continues to stare at you and your efforts of trying to capture it without trespassing.

"Come on Ozzy, I'll take you home and you can eat. Maybe later we can take a trip to the store for some toys! What do you say, Oz?" As you stretch your arm out to the animal, a gruff voice stops you in your tracks.

"May I ask why you're trying to kidnap my cat?" Trailing your eyes to the side porch, you take in the shape of the person sitting on the couch.

Covered by the shadow of the awning, you can't really make out the stranger. You've been caught red handed, mouth agape and wide eyed with your arm still frozen in it's outstretched position.

"I-I, um I wasn't trying to kidnap your cat. I just, he came up-"

"It's a she and her name is pumpkin." The gruff voice cuts you off, semi annoyed and frustrated.

"Sorry, I didn't know." Like a child who's been reprimanded, you pull your arm back to it's place, lacing your fingers together in front of you where they twiddled in anxiety.

"I know, I was just fucking with you." The shadow figure stands from it's sitting position and walks over to you, jumping down the small ledge of the side porch.

As he stalks over to you, you drink up his features. In sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a too small of a hoodie that reads "Hawkins High Phys Ed.", he looks pretty. Wild brown curls blow lightly in the wind, lips puffy, and eyes so brown it feels like you're drowning in chocolate.

Standing toe to toe, you realize just how much taller he is than you. Slim and fit is the best way you can describe it, and boy is he breathtaking. His scent picks up with the breeze, swirling around you and making it's way into your nose were it lingers. Coffee, smoke, and laundry soap.

"I'm assuming you're the new neighbor down in trailer 48." It's not really a question rather a statement when he says it.

Nodding your head slightly, you gaze up at him still in awe. "Yeah, that would ugh, that would be me." Trying to cover up your nerves you throw him a tight lipped smile.

Nodding his own head, he slips his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. "Well, I'm Eddie and you already seem to have met pumpkin."

"Nice to meet you Eddie," Unlocking your still laced fingers, you throw him a small wave, even though he's right in front of you and tell him your name.

"Well it's lovely to meet you." His smile is just as pretty as the rest of him, nice white teeth that shine brighter than any sunrise you've ever seen.

"I'm sorry about your cat," It comes out rather awkward and abrupt, "she came over to me and I didn't think she belonged to anyone, I swear. I- well honestly, she's kind of like my first friend here and I wasn't about to let her go that easy."

Shame burns within you, as well as embarrassment. The shame of trying to take someone else's cat and the embarrassment of admitting you have no friends. You want the ground to shallow you whole, hide so far in the ground the cute boy next door will forget all about you and your inability to act like a normal human.

"Hey, don't worry I was just messin'. Plus she's like my only friend too, so I totally get it." Whether he's lying or not doesn't matter to you, in fact you laugh along with him when he speaks.

"To be fair, they're kind of pretty," Still smiling, he focuses on Pumpkin who sits contently on the step waiting to go in.

"Yeah, she really is. Sweet too." You agree, also looking at the cat you befriended just moments before.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the cat," He says and you look back at him confused, "I mean she is definitely pretty, in fact she gets it from her dad. But I ugh, I was talking about you."

Pink paints the apples of his cheeks and you're certain that it's not from the bitter chill.

Your own stomach jumps and flips, butterflies tripling as his eyes burn into you.

"Oh." It's all you can muster, at least verbally, your face on the other hand tells him everything he needs to know.

Eyes shining and a smile threating to pull on your lips, even with the extra help that tries to hold it in place.

"Yeah." His own smile spreads bigger and you want to take a picture of it. You want to memorize every single detail of him so when you go back to your mundane four walls, you'll have something to feed your aching, lonely heart.

"Well if you want, I have a pot of coffee and a pack of Oreos back at my place. You and Ozzy, I mean Pumpkin are more than welcome." Looking up at him from under your lashes you see that his expression changed. Dimples and canines more prominent than before.

"Only on one condition." He says, crossing his hands over his chest and leaning towards you. "Do you have any cool mugs?"

"I have a cool Garfield mug." You shrug your shoulders.

Eddie ponders for a second like he's really taking the time to think it over. "I think, you have yourself a deal." Placing a hand in front of you, you clasp it in your own and shake it, letting the feeling of him sink into your skin.

Pulling his hand away from yours, he calls Pumpkin and pats his thigh. Getting up from her spot, she circles through his slipper covered feet. The two of you make your way back to your trailer, comfortable silence settling over the two of you.

"I do have one question." Looking over at Eddie, you raise your eyebrows telling him to continue. "Why Ozzy?"

Chuckling softly, you shrug your shoulders once again. "Well she's a black cat and she kind of reminds me of a bat. Bats just happen to remind me of Ozzy Osbourne, ya know cause the whole bat on stage thing."

You cut yourself off when you realize the boy next to you stopped dead in his tracks, along with the black cat.

"You know Ozzy?" He gasps, hand to his chest like you've just struck him with a sharp object.

"Who doesn't know Ozzy?" You scoff, eyebrows pinching together in bewilderment.

After what a long pause, Eddie stops clutching his chest and beams happily at you.

"Yeah, we're gonna be best friends." It's soft and sincere, hitting you right in the heart, lighting it with a million twinkling lights.

"Come on neighbor, I was promised Oreos." Picking his pace back up, he bops you on the nose with his finger before continuing his journey to your home.

Maybe Hawkins wasn't as lonely after all, you just needed to be patient.

Thank you all for reading! I love you guys <3

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #honey's holiday celebrations #honey's birthday bash

[scarletwinterxx]

your beginning and middle and end - mark lee imagine

hello🥺 sooo this one is a bit longer than my usual posts. think of it as a valentine special. i loved writing this one, i hope you like it too🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

FEBRUARY 09, 10AM

"That's the fourth date you declined, girl valentines is around the corner" Yun-jin tells you the moment the other guy walked away

"Genuine question, do I need a guy to celebrate it or do I even need to celebrate it?"

"If Valentines has a version of the grinch it would be you"

You laugh at her statement, reading over the small note that was given to you along with a single rose. It was cute, you appreciate the thought but you really didn't want to go out with the dude. You'd rather let them down now than pretend to have fun during a date.

"It's just not my thing" you tell her

"Then what's your thing? Tell me and I will personally look for him"

Looks like luck is on your side because you spot the big clock behind her, your next class about to start.

"Once I know, I'll tell you. I'm gonna be late. Bye" you gather your stuff and rushed out the hall, you can hear her protests making you laugh on your way out.

When you got to your next class, the other students are just arriving. A lot of vacant seats, you choose the one in the middle. You get your notes and laptop out to skim over your notes from the last session.

"Another one?" you hear someone say from behind you making you look up

"Yep, want to read it?" you chuckle, passing the rose over to Mark.

Mark Lee, the boy you sit next to class with. You see him enough around campus to get acquainted. He's friendly, known by many, a poet by heart. And he's also well aware of the failed confessions to you.

The first time you brought a flower to class he didn't say anything, the second time he thought it was from the same person but then the third time it happened right in front of him. He witnessed how you gently turned down the poor lad who was asking you out after handing you a rose.

Mark takes his usual seat beside you before reading the note

"You and Me, on v? huh like Valentines?" he laughs, holding the little card in his hand

"I'd give it a 4 out of 10"

"Ouch, so the lowest one then. I'd say my favorite is still the one about cats" he tells you, passing the rose back to you

Do you like cats? Because I’d like you to take meowt

You remember that one too. You thought it was cringey, but Mark smiled when he read it. You even let him keep the card.

"Do you still have it?" you ask "The card? Oh yea, I drew like little cats all over it. I'm sure it's somewhere in my bag"

"Why? Planning to use it on someone?"

"Yeah right, I think I'd have a bit more game than that" he jokes

"Ha, we'll see about that" you snorted. Missing the way Mark is looking at you with small grin on his face. Trying to be as inconspicuous as he could be.

The two of you might be on good terms but he wouldn't put it past you to reject him too. Since he got to know you, one thing he learned about you is that you're always so sure of yourself. To you, no is a full sentence. You like what you like and say no to what you don't. You're unapologetically you and he likes that.

He's not sure yet whether he likes you or likes you.

"Earth to Mark?" you wave your hand in front of his face, making him break out of his thoughts

"Lost you there, where'd you go" you joke

"Was just thinking about this paper I have due on Tuesday" he says, it's not a total lie. He does have a paper he needs to finish before Valentines day.

"Need help? I have a few works to catch up on too"

"You don't have plans?" he asks, it's like asking if you have a date on Valentines without asking if you have a date on Valentines day.

"Not really no, and if I'm being honest I heard this guy planning to ask about dinner and I'd rather not..."

"Am I... the getaway car?" You chuckle at his question

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but if I could avoid it I would. So library or the cafe near campus?"

He looks at you like he's weighing his options, playfully hitting him on the arm making the guy laugh "Cafe it is, I'll see you there?" he says

"It's a date" you grin at him

FEBRUARY 12, 11AM

"It's not"

"You said she said it was" Jungwoo says, looking at Mark who is currently trying to find something to wear. After that little moment with you, Mark made sure to clear up his schedule for that day. Ofcourse Jungwoo being the nosy bestfriend didn't let it pass without making Mark tell the whole story.

"Also if this wasn't a date, why are you freaking out about what to wear? You're just going to study, are you going to study her?"

Mark throws the hoodie at Jungwoo's face before looking through his closet again, "Maybe it was just a slip of tongue. It's Y/N, she rejects everyone who asks her out" Mark says while his head is buried deep in his closet

Jungwoo rolls his eyes at his bestfriend, Mark swears he doesn't like you like that and yet here he is. He only met you a couple of time, Mark introduced you before when he went to give Mark a book he forgot to bring.

"I can think of something else you want her tongue to slip in" he mumbles, "Shut up, don't talk about her like that" Mark stands up straight, looking at the other guy. Jungwoo holds his hands up, "Sorry"

Mark gives him another glare before getting a hoodie inside his closet, "Whatever, I'll just wear this. Should I bring an extra one just in case?"

"Just in case what? You spill something?" Jungwoo jokes

In case she gets cold, Mark thinks to himself.

"Just cause" Mark grumbles, walking back to his closet to get another hoodie then stuffing it inside his backpack.

"You're going to be late, go have fun at your not a date date"

About an hour after that, Mark is waiting for you at the cafe. He got there first and sent you a quick text. After a few minutes, the door chimed making Mark look up.

And that's when you walk in, a bouquet of blue tulips in your grasp. You look around, quickly spotting Mark. You make your way towards him, Mark stands up to pull the chair out for you. Saying a quick thank you then you set your stuff down.

"Sorry I'm late"

"Nah, I'm just early" he tells you, "You uh the guy caught you?" he jokes, pointing at flowers

"Oh these? No, I got them actually like I bought it this morning. Yun-jin forgot to buy milk so I had to go out this morning then I saw these. Here" then you're handing the flowers over to him

When you notice the confused look on his face, you giggle. This made Mark look more confused at what's happening, "What? No one ever gave you flowers?" you joke

"No, it's suppose to be the other way 'round?" he asks but accepts it nonetheless

You shrug, getting your stuff out

"I don't like flowers, main reason why I always say no to those dudes. I appreciate the effort, I do but it's not my style. But I remember you said these are your favorite during our class introductions, so I got them for you" you smile at him, he smiles back.

"Thanks, no like really thank you" he says, this made you chuckle finding the situation cute.

"Okay, back to business. I do have like three agendas to finish today" you tell him, gesturing at the small stack of papers on the table

"I'll buy you a chocolate cupcake if you finish it all" he offers, your face lighting up at the mention of the sweet treat. Mark also remembers something about you during that class intro.

Actually he remembers everything about you and that day. The professor asked everyone to say their name along with two random facts about themselves.

"Hi everyone my name is Y/N, I love chocolate cupcakes and I can recite the graduation speech from Twilight"

That earned a few laughs from the class, and from him. You really did leave an impression on him. As days, weeks and months passed by the two of you got acquainted.

If someone asks (mainly Jungwoo) Mark when was the exact moment he felt different about you, he can't pinpoint the exact moment. It just sort of happened for him. Maybe from all the small gestures you unknowingly do, or how it's easy to talk to you. You just get him.

"Can you make it two?" tilting your head to the side for effect, making Mark laugh and nod his head "You got it"

A few hours later, and a few cups of coffee the two of you finally finish. Mark actually finished his paper an hour ago but you weren't done with the last module you had to do,

"Are you done? Am I making you wait?" you ask, noticing he stopped doing anything and was just looking at you

"Huh? Oh uh yea, but don't worry about it. I can wait" he tells you with a smile

"You sure? I'm almost done"

"Don't rush it, I'll still buy you the cupcakes" he tells you, you shoot him a smile before going back to work. Meanwhile Mark goes to the front of the store to get you your cupcakes.

You didn't even notice he stood up, focusing on saving the file before sending the final file to your professor.

"And done! Mark?" you look up only to find the seat infront of you empty. You spot him over the counter, choosing to wait and tidy your things in the mean time.

"Hey, you done?" he asks when he got back to your table

"Mhm, finally. Sorry for taking up your whole afternoon"

"No worries, I finished my work too and I enjoyed your company. And as promised, here's your cupcakes" Mark then opens the box, he might as well presented you with a pot of gold with the way you're grinning from ear to ear. Your joy radiating, making him smile too.

"For me?" you asked, he nods his head

"These are the chocolate ones, I got two. The others are their best sellers, then this one I just thought you might like" he points at the cupcake with heart sprinkles on it.

You laugh, getting the box from him "Okay fine, I believe you. You definitely how to make a girl say yes"

He shakes his head, suddenly feeling shy "Believe me I'm not an expert when it comes to girls" he mumbles

"No, but you got this type of vibe about you you know" you tell him, getting one cupcake from the box

"What vibe?"

"You know like someone could've been in love with you for ten years without you knowing, a classic case of unrequited love but not in a mean way you just don't really know. It's the way you see the world, it's always nice, forgiving, full of chances. You see meaning even in little things. You got this boyish charm about you, the kind that girls would pick over their fictional boyfriends. You're better than any guy written by anyone" you tell him not noticing the way he's just staring at you

"I follow you on your socials, it's cute when you take pictures of the moon or the sky. Makes me remember to take a breath and be in the moment every once in a while"

He don't say anything, still processing what you said. He has never heard himself be described that way, atleast not to his face but he doubts anyone can be as eloquent as you.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally finds his voice, you nod at him

"Why do you say no to all the boys who ask you out? besides the cringey one liners and flowers"

You chuckle, "Because I know me. All of them would've just ended one way or another. I know what I want, what I like. I like a guy I can have an actual conversation with from philosophical point of views to something so random. Someone that makes it feel easy to talk and listen to"

"Do you know how hard it is to control my expression when I'm in public? Yun-jin said my face is too judgy" you jokingly add "I'm an open book if you know how to read it exactly, if that makes sense"

"No, I totally get it. You're not complicated or hard to get, they just don't know how to. You deserve more effort than that" he tells you

"See, that's what I'm talking about. If you keep on doing that I'm gonna be the one asking you out" you tease him, the guy across you laughing. Trying to hide his blushing cheeks and fluttering heart.

The two of you talked some more before he offered to walk you home. It's almost sunset when Mark got back to his place,

"And he's back, how was the date?" Jungwoo shouts from somewhere inside. Mark spots him lounging on the couch, taking a seat beside him with the bouquet of flowers on his lap

"You got rejected too?" Jungwoo asks and Mark just shakes head

"Did you forget to give it? Got too shy? I'm pretty sure you're suppose to give it to the girl not take it back home"

"I didn't get it, I mean I got it but I got it from her. She bought me these" Mark clarifies, taking the bouquet to look at it again,

Jungwoo looks back and forth between Mark and the flowers, "Let me get this straight, the girl whose notorious for turning down guys who gives her flowers gave you flowers on your not a date date?"

Mark just stares back at his bestfriend because honestly it doesn't make sense to him too.

"Homegirl got more game than you" Jungwoo says with a chuckle

"She said she remembered I said these were my favorite. I mentioned it once during freshmen orientation week and she remembered"

"Oh my god, he's in love" Jungwoo laughs

"And you know, I gave her cupcakes and she got so happy I actually thought about signing up for baking classes" Mark grumbles, setting the flowers on the coffee table before taking a thrown pillow to bury his face in.

Jungwoo watches his bestfriend realized what he's known for a while now. Mark likes you. He just never said it. It's Mark. He thinks everyone is nice, most time he overlooks the nice gestures of other girls to him thinking it's normal when in reality they were trying to get his attention.

"Oh. This must be serious then. You don't even know how to cook"

"Yeah I know! Like I know I like her, I didn't know I like her." it felt surreal finally admitting it out loud.

"So you do like her? like like her"

"I think?"

"It's a yes or no"

"No, I don't"

"You got him flowers"

Meanwhile back at your dorm, Yun-jin is also interrogating you. You just finished giving her a recap of your day, she was half listening half watching her show when you suddenly mentioned you got flowers for Mark

"Just because I got him flowers don't mean I like him, I just remembered it was his favorite" you shrug, trying to not make a big deal out of it.

"What's my favorite flower?" she asks, you blink back at her coming up with a blank answer

"See! Oh my gosh, my baby girl is growing up" she dramatically hugs you

"Was that weird? That I gave him flowers?"

"No, it's the 21st century. Guys can get flowers too"

"He got me cupcakes too" you mumble, looking at the box on the table.

Yun-jin watches you, smiling to herself. She's with you twenty four seven and she's never seen you like this. There are a few times she's seen you on campus with Mark, you always smile whenever he's around. Choosing not to push further, she gives the topic a rest and changing it to something else

"So what are you doing for valentines? because if you're free I know this dude who's free also-" "Actually Mark and I are hanging out again" you cut her off

"You're spending valentines with Mark?"

"Yea, so uhm actually I'm gonna call it a night. I have classes in the morning, we're meeting again around lunch. Night" then you're making a beeline towards your bedroom.

FEBRUARY 14, 10AM

Come Valentines day. Yun-jin thinks you're out with Mark while the boy is completely unaware he's being mentioned.

Choosing a place you know Yun-jin won't find you, you stayed at the farthest lounge area after class. Most students won't even walk all the way here since it's a long way going back and forth.

Finding a spot to sit on, you spot someone sitting alone on one the benches

"Mark?"

The boy looks up, immediately smiling when he sees it's you

"Hey, you. What are you doing here?" he asks, getting his stuff from the seat beside him to make room for you. Putting your stuff on the table before taking the seat beside him

"I just finished for the day, and currently hiding from Yun-jin"

He chuckles, "Why?"

"She's trying to set me up with a blind date so I pretended I had plans" leaving out the part he was mentioned

"You don't have plans?" he asks, giving himself a pat on the back for not sounding too nervous

You shake your head, "I have something to say though, I might have told her I had plans... with you"

Mark just looks at you, feeling shy under his gaze you look away.

"With me?"

"Yea, sorry. You don't have to stay though if you have plans don't worry about it. Go enjoy your valentines day" you told him a bit too energetic than you intended.

Then he smiles, Mark smiles at you like he's keeping a secret he can't wait to tell.

"What?"

"I don't have plans, I was going to ask if you had plans yesterday but I didn't want to overstep"

"What do you mean? You're just asking" you smile back at him, "Did you think I was going to say no like always? Oh my gosh I swear I'm not as heartless. I wasn't-"

"No no no, of course I didn't think that. I mean I don't think you're heartless" he pauses to collect his thought because right now words are flying out faster than he can think of them.

And if he got one chance at this, he'll make sure to do it right the first time.

Then you start speaking again, surprising Mark once again with your words

"Yun-jin said I smile a lot when I'm with you, now that I think about it I think I do. It's just you're easy to be with, and I feel relaxed like I can talk to you about anything and you listen. It's also so fun to listen to your stories, especially when you get this animated look on your face. And when you laugh before you can even say the joke. Am I rambling, sorry I'm rambling"

He takes your hand, holding it in his. Testing the waters to see how you'll react. When you don't pull away, he gets a card out from his notebook. Then he hands it over to you,

Today we are obliged to be romantic And think of yet another Valentine. We know the rules, and we are both pedantic. Today’s the day we have to be romantic. Our love is old and sure, not new and frantic. You know I’m yours, and I know you are mine. And saying that has made me feel romantic, My dearest love, my darling valentine.

You read the note carefully, a smile slowly forming on your face while Mark watches you. When the thinks you finish it, he speaks up

"I read that, and I thought about you. You're worth more than a one liner, more than a single flower. You deserve poems to be written about you, gardens to walk through with the prettiest flowers"

You playfully hit him, reading the card again before putting it in your bag for safe keeping

"I love it, thank you. Now I feel bad I got you nothing"

"It's okay, I didn't even know I was going to give it to you. I was ready to just hide it in my bag for the rest of time" he admits

"Why? It's so nice though"

"Yea but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable"

"I appreciate it really. Out of all the notes I received, I'll keep this one"

At that he smiles.

Like how the story began, with one liner notes and a single flower, who knew you'd find a friend and now something more. Mark is someone you didn't expect you'd have something romantic with especially since you're not really looking for it but it makes sense that you'd end up with him. He makes your days brighter, it's like he bring everything that is good into your world.

When you said he's the kind of guy who beats every fictional character, it's true because he gave you something better than a fairytale; a reality worth living in.

And yes spoiler, you do end up with him. The story ends with you and him. Spending all of your valentines together.

end.

#fic #story #tags #nct #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct au #nct fluff #nct boyfriend #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenario #mark lee oneshot #mark lee imagine

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

for flufftober.. would it be possible to have day 6 be with swiss x reader?? idk i fell like even tho swiss is usually dancing all feral and shit on stage, he’d also be good at other forms of dancing? like i see him being able to do all that cutesy romantic dancing and dipping the reader and all that:( anywho- idk if you’ve already gotten a request for that one and if you have, you can go with that one cause i know this one is extremely late. i just saw that prompt and immediately thought of swiss being able to do shit from salsa dancing to waltzes to jazz. idk man. he just gives those vibes… maybe even classically trained? ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG AHHH <333

Step On Your Toes

Flufftober Day 6: Dancing together

Pairings: Mountain X Reader X Swiss (Implied Poly!Ghouls X Reader)

Type: Fluff

Summary: Reader plans on surprising Swiss for his birthday with a dance, yet cannot dance to save their life. Mountain is more than happy to help.

Warnings: Light drinking, a bit of self-doubt

Word Count: 2,390

Notes: Read here on ao3. Find my flufftober prompt list here. Okay, so I absolutely loved both of these ideas, so I'm realllyyy hoping y'all are cool with me merging them :) Songs mentioned: Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Ray & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt. Second prompt under the cut for space reasons :)

~

“Ouch,” Mountain whispered as you once again stepped on his toes.

You sighed and dropped your hands, backing away from the tall ghoul. “I’m sorry…I don’t think I can do this. That’s what now? Eight times? I just want to surprise Swiss with a cute little dance, but all I can do is step on your toes.”

“Hey now, we have plenty of time to practice before the party. I’ll help you get this right,” he assured, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“But I haven’t been able to, and Swiss’s birthday is in less than a week. It’s my first year that I get to spend his birthday with him, and I want it to be perfect.”

Mountain pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your head. “Swiss loves you whether or not you can dance. That ghoul is just insanely talented and a show-off. He isn’t going to love you less if you step on his toes.” His hand rubbed your back in a soothing manner.

“I don’t want to step on his toes. I want this to go smoothly.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay not to surprise him with a dance if you’re that worried about it,” he offered.

“But I want to. I just…I don’t know…I feel like I’ll make a fool out of myself,” you said in a whisper as you walked over to the corner of the practice room to grab your water bottle.

Mountain chuckles, pulling you back against him, hugging you tightly. “Now, now, if anyone will make a fool out of themselves, my bets are all on Dewdrop and Phantom. You’ll be the least of everyone’s worries,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. “A few mistakes can’t throw a wrench in your plans. Plus, stepping on his feet a few times won’t ruin the dance. You were so determined to get this right when you initially asked for my help. Where’d that spirit go?”

“Probably the same place that my ability to dance went,” you mumbled as he began to sway while holding onto you. He hummed as if he were considering something. “What are you plotting?”

“How about this?” He spun you around, lifting you with ease and placing both of your feet on the tops of his. “I will move, and you will let your body move with mine. This way, I can teach you how to move the right way, then you can try it without me guiding you. How does that sound?”

You look up with a concerned look. “Do you actually think this is going to help at all?”

“Maybe…maybe not,” he shrugs. “And if it doesn’t, then we’ll think of something else to surprise Swiss,” he offered, holding you against his chest as he stared at you, his green eyes showing nothing but kindness.

“Maybe I can just get him a cat.”

“He already has Dewdrop. We don’t need another one,” Mountain teased. “Will you at least try my idea?” He asked, a slight pout on his face.

“Alright…alright, we can try it,” you sighed, giving in. You felt silly doing this, but there was a part of you that wanted this to work.

Mountain pulled his phone from his pocket and pressing play on a slow song, beginning to sway at first before moving his feet to the beat.

It wasn’t the song you intended to use with Swiss, but Mountain had a playlist of slow, mostly cheesy, romantic songs that he played while dancing in the rain or in the greenhouse with Rain.

“Summertime Sadness?” You questioned as the first notes rang through.

Mountain let out a laugh. “Hey, it’s a good song. Not every song on my playlist has to be heavy metal,” he said, moving his feet in a consistent pattern.

“The big, scary, earth ghoul is a Lana fan. Who would’ve guessed?” You teased as he danced around the room with you.

“I only know a few of her songs. Can’t lie and say they aren’t good, though,” he grinned, glad to see your mind on something other than the dancing. That only lasted a few minutes when you looked down to see his steps. He let out a gentle ‘tsk’, taking one hand off your hip to tilt your chin to look at him. “Eyes on me, love,” he whispered. “Let your body feel the beat, not your mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just feel,” he said as if that alone made perfect sense, placing his hand back on your hip.

“Earth ghouls…cryptic little creatures,” you huffed, trying to keep your eyes up.

“I am anything but little,” he scoffed.

“Yeah, okay, you aren’t little, but you’re still cryptic as hell.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” you laugh. He holds you close as you both move to the music. He has one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. It’s sweet and simple, and you almost forget that you’re not moving yourself.

At one point he sets you on the ground, and there’s a small look of panic in your eyes before he spins you. He lets you twirl once, guided by his hand, then puts a hand on your waist, dips you, and gives you a chaste kiss. He grins as he pulls you back to stand on his feet.

“What was that for?”

“What? Can’t kiss my favorite human?” He chuckles, continuing to move along to the music.

“Well, you can. I just wasn’t expecting it,” you confess, laughing with him.

The song comes to an end and both of you just stand there, not quite moving. “Want to try another song like this, or do you want to try it without me guiding you?”

You pause to think, weighing the options. “What if we do two more songs like this, take a break, then let me try it on my own.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles, already pressing play on the next song.

—

The night of the party comes rather quickly. You and Mountain had been practicing for a few hours each day, determined to get this dance down.

The room feels like it’s practically alive. People are dancing, talking, and drinking. There’s some sort of upbeat song playing. Even the decorations add an extra buzz. Truly a party designed for the lively multi-ghoul.

You were in the corner, sipping a glass of champagne, and practically freaking out. Mountain had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“You’re too tense,” he said gently. “You did phenomenal yesterday. Didn’t even step on my toes once.”

“I know, but that was practicing. And with you. Swiss is…such a good dancer. I’m pretty sure he knows every dance ever created. I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“You’re not going to embarrass yourself. I promise. No one will even notice if you mess up because if you mess up–”

“–when I mess up.”

“–if you mess up, he’ll cover for you and make sure no one knows that it was you. Trust me, he’ll guide you through it if he has to, but you’ll do amazing,” he assures.

“I don’t know…this just feels like a mistake.”

“Look at me,” he says, tilting your head up. “He’s going to love it. He’ll be thrilled that you even made the attempt if this ends horribly. He loves you, and nothing will change that.”

You sigh, staring at the bubbles in your glass. “I know…I just want this to be good.”

“It will be. You need to stop doubting yourself,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Swiss walks over with an excited grin. He’s dressed up - as is everyone else - but has a silly cone on his head, strapped to his chin that reads ‘Birthday Boy’ that Phantom and Aurora made him. “Well hello, lovebirds,” he laughs, throwing an arm around you. 

You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, Swiss.”

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” He asks, looking between you and Mountain, taking a sip of whatever was in his cup.

“I am, don’t know about this one,” Mountain teases, which gets him an elbow to the ribs.

Swiss looks down at you, a look of confusion on his face. “Now why is that?”

“No reason,” you say, taking a sip of champagne and giving Mountain a dirty look for saying something.

“Oh come on, you can’t not have a good time at my party. It’s my birthday,” he pouts. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that Mountain can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Mountain chuckles. “Guilty as charged.”

“No, seriously, is something wrong?” Swiss asks, he takes his arm from around your face to look at you face to face, trying to gauge your true feelings.

“It’s nothing important, Swiss. I swear.”

“Pinky promise?” He lifts his hand, making a fist, and extending his pinky.

You interlock your pinky with his. “Pinky promise,” you assure.

You chat for a few more minutes until Swiss gets called away by another guest. Mountain turns toward you with a skeptical look.

“So when are you planning on bringing him out for the dance exactly?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess when it feels right.”

“You worked yourself up, didn’t you?”

“What? No,” you said with playful denial, taking a sip of champagne to avoid eye contact.

“I’m not letting you leave this room until you dance with him,” he persists, taking the glass from you. “You worked so hard, and he’s going to absolutely love to see you surprise him.”

“I really don’t-”

“Nope. No more ‘I don’t’ or ‘I can’t’,” he interrupts. “You really should pull him aside, and ask him to dance. You don’t need to keep doubting yourself.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Are you sure he won’t laugh if I embarrass myself?”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well that was just practicing. He’s not going to laugh.”

“Fine. Alright, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Good,” Mountain says, grabbing your waist and kissing the top of your head. “You’re going to do great. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Mountain.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Go knock ‘em dead,” he grins, pushing you in the direction of Swiss.

You swallow the lump in your throat, then walk over to Swiss who’s in a conversation with Rain and Cirrus.

All of the ghoul’s knew about your surprise, except Swiss of course, so Rain and Cirrus exchanged a knowing look, ready to let you take Swiss away.

“Hey, do you mind if I steal this one?” You asked, slightly hesitant, putting a hand on Swiss’s shoulder.

“By all means,” Rain smirks, taking Swiss’s glass and party hat, then pulling Cirrus away.

You take a shaky breath, then pull Swiss to the dance floor as the opening to Grow As We Go begins.

“What are you doing?” Swiss asks with a slight smile. You move one of his hands to your waist, wrap that hand around his neck, then hold the other in your free hand.

“Surprising you?” You offer, beginning to sway to the music and trying to move your feet in the way Mountain taught you.

“You know you’re supposed to watch your dancing partner, not your feet, right?” He teases.

You look up, a slightly worried expression. “I’m sorry,” you say with a slight frown.

“Are you worried you’re going to step on my toes?”

“A bit…I haven’t been able to do this without stepping on Mountain’s at least once.”

“So that’s where you two have been sneaking off to,” he grins. “If it makes you feel better, my feet are much smaller than his.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. He’s been helping me for the past few weeks. I know you really like you to dance, and that you’re really good at it, so I figured I would try to surprise you.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job so far. You’ve only stepped on my toes once.”

“I did? Oh, I’m sorry,” you frown, looking back at your feet.

He grabs your chin and smiles at you. “Hey, did I complain? No, I didn’t, so let me see those beautiful eyes.”

A shy smile comes over your face. “I’m sorry, I just…really want this to be perfect.”

“The fact that you felt comfortable enough to do this for me makes this perfect as is. You’re perfect,” he says softly.

The crowd is watching, but neither of you seem to care. It’s just a moment for the two of you. You bring yourself closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re doing amazing, you know,” he whispers, resting his head on top of yours.

You hum in acknowledgement and sway to the music. It seems to fade out, like the only thing happening in the room is Swiss holding you close. It’s the perfect moment.

He begins to hum along with the song, then pushes you away to spin you just as Mountain had done many times before. You let him twirl you before he wrapped you back in his arms with your back to his chest, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You giggled as his facial hair tickled your cheek.

He smiled and let out a light laugh. “You look amazing tonight.”

“I really should be the one complimenting you, birthday boy.”

He laughed again. “It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.”

He spun you out once more as the song began to wrap up. Holding you by the waist, he bent you back, planting a sweet, yet passionate kiss to your lips as the song ended. When he brought you upright, he was holding your cheek as he continued to kiss you.

“Thank you,” he whispered, keeping his face close to yours and staring into your eyes.

“I love you, Swiss. Happy birthday,” you said as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much, sweetheart. This was truly an incredible surprise,” he said, squeezing you against him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and returning the hug.

“And guess what?” He pulls away, a playful grin on his face.

“What?”

“You only stepped on my toes three times.”

#ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost x reader #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #mountain ghoul #mountain #mountain ghost #mountain ghoul x reader #mountain ghost x reader #mountain x reder #swiss army ghoul #swiss army knife #swissalps #swiss #swiss ghost #swiss ghoul x reader #swiss x reader #swiss ghost x reader #swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x mountain ghoul #swiss ghost x mountain ghost #swiss x mountain #swiss x mountain x reader

[beansmack2021]

He Stayed (Pt. 2) (Platonic!Husk x Alastor's Daughter)

TW: Alastor being a dick, mentions of being chained

It might not be that good. Sorry

"Dad, I don't care! You've been following me around like a puppy dog all day! I don't want to talk to you!"

Alastor was insisting on trying to make ammends with his daughter, but she simply wasn't having it. He didn't get to walk out on her for seven years and then walk back into her life as he hadn't missed the better half of it.

"Y/N, dear, you're going to have to talk to me eventually. You can't ignore me for eternity."

"Watch me!"

Alastor was getting pissed, but he wouldn't show his full demon form. She was already angry with him, he didn't need to force her even further back into her shell. She'd come crawling back to him when she was ready, and then they'd be a happy family again. Just the two of them.

Images of Husker filling his position danced through his mind. Nope. Definitely not happy.

He disappeared into the shadows, reappearing in an abandoned hall in the hotel. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the winged cat demon stood before him.

"What the hell? Alastor, I was doing the dishes."

Alastor didn't give a rat's ass what he was doing.

"Husker, you're not to speak to my daughter any longer."

Husk tilted his head to one side, scoffing.

"You can't control her, Alastor. She wants to talk to me, that's her business. Lately, she seems to like me an awful lot more than she likes you, anyway."

"Maybe you didn't hear me properly." The room grew darker. Husk's chains glowed a bright green, and Alastor yanked on them. "You are not, under any circumstances to speak to my daughter. In case you've forgotten, I own you. If you decide to disobey me, I'll know. Rest assured, there will be repercussions."

"Dad!"

Alastor's head snapped to the side so quickly that he could've broken his neck. Y/N stood at the end of the hall, fists balled and eyes widened in surprise that quickly settled into anger.

"What the hell are you doing? Leave him alone!"

The chains disappeared from sight and Alastor leaned forward on his cane. "My dear, Husker and I were merely having a little chat. There's nothing to worry about."

"Save it. I heard everything. You really think you can keep us from talking to each other? You don't own me, last I checked. Frankly, I'd rather be eaten by the cannibals than belong to you anyway."

Ouch, that one stung. Alastor bristled. "Dear, I-"

"No. Enough. I don't care. You don't get to waltz back into my life and then try to keep the people who cared enough to stay out of it. If you'd kindly fuck off, I'd appreciate it."

She strode over to Husk, helping him stand and asked if he was okay. She glared at Alastor as they walked away.

"Come on, Husk. Charlie said tonight was family game night. You and I can be on a team."

Just like that, Alastor was left as alone as he'd been for nearly a decade. He'd pushed away the one person he'd tried to pull closer to him. He stared after her as she left, and then vanished into thin air, hiding himself away in his radio tower.

#hazbin husk #hazbin x reader #alastor #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x platonic reader #hazbin x platonic reader #platonic

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 20

welcome to the twentieth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics. 

1. for we are the beautiful thieves by @caimani-ao3

Keith and Lance go undercover (sort of) at General Iverson's gala to steal back an Altean artifact the general stole while treasure-hunting. Keith's job? Sneaking away in the middle of the party to find the artifact. Lance's job? Looking pretty in a dress.

love love LOVE adventure fics this shit ROCKS. voltron?? thief archeologists whose main goal is to steal artefacts from rich asshole collectors and return them to where they came from?? iconique!! klance playing the pretty distrction?? iconique moreso!! 

2. ring my bell by @dumdum692 [EXPLICIT]

And granted, Keith has always been a sore spot for him in this way; Lance has always felt at odds with his domesticated temperament, and Keith holds absolutely none of that. Keith doesn't give two whopping shits about getting pimples, or if Stacy in English class thinks he has bad breath. Keith isn't standing zombie-eyed in the purple lights of a party, plotting woe-is-me narratives of his own melancholia and loneliness, gazing detachedly into a red Solo cup full of jungle juice - he just is, and that's always made Lance, in equal parts, devastatingly embarrassed and devastatingly horny.

Sadly, this scale weights significantly more towards the horny end as of late, because Keith is developing quite a few, very distinctly Galra characteristics, and it's driving Lance absolutely buck fucking nuts.

______________________________________________

Keith goes through puberty. Devastation ensues.

this fic is a proud truther of two important things: a) lance’s type is literally anyone who can kick his ass and look good doing it, and b) lance has a big vocabulary entirely so he can be as melodramatic as possible whenever he so pleases. and i for one am thankful for its service.

3. Cross My Path by @wittyy-name [EXPLICIT]

Lance owns a witch themed cat cafe that rescues black cats. Each one has a unique collar and color coded name to help tell them apart. He's not supposed to play favorites, but he's already adopted his favorite, Red, as his own. Cold and distant to everyone, Red is extremely affectionate to Lance. Needy. Clingy. Protective. But Lance doesn't mind. He makes Lance's home a little less lonely. He's a little weird, but aren't all cats? He loves his baby boy, and he's eternally grateful for the day that little black fluff ball crossed his path.

Lance doesn't think twice about Red's odd quirks. That is, until he wakes up with a naked stranger in his bed.

And hey! Turns out Red is actually a witch named Keith who's been cursed to be a cat for twenty years. A really hot witch who's still very affectionate towards Lance.

any fic that’s tagged with catboy keith is a winner in my book tbh. and this fic is AMAZING the entire concept is unbelievably cool and the storyline is adorable!! also healthy relationship boundaries and expectations for the win!! plus rough sex also!!

4. know by petalloso

Keith couldn’t feel his legs. Upon further realization, he couldn’t feel his arms either, or his hands. He could, however, feel Lance’s hands, and they were all over him, running up and down his chest in inspection, tilting his chin this way and that, pulling him up from the floor where he figured he’d landed probably because his knees had just given out on him.

“Stupid,” he heard Lance say. “You blew out your legs.”

those 2016 fics man!! they never miss they just dont!! insane to me that this author apologises for being ooc as if their portrayal of keith is not the most in character portrayal possibly ever lol. AND this fic has oldest child lance my beloved

5. stud by petalloso

“Ow.”

Keith stops in his tracks, listening. The voice comes again, louder and more elongated this time, muffled behind the door.

“Ouch,” it says, and then, “shit shit shit.”

lance IS the type of impulsive dumbass to pierce is own ears, and i thank this writer greatly for pointing that out. this fic is cute and sweet and silly which are my three for three basically

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

#can u believe that we have now made it to 100 fics recced!! and 20 weeks of fic rec friday!! #whooo!!! #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #pre klance #flirting #bad flirting #bamf keith #bamf lance #bamf klance #modern au #fic rec #fic rec friday

[stardustlixie]

Apology-L.Mh

(warning: light breakdown, yelling, mention of past trauma and past toxic situations, crying, glass falling and breaking, Minho is lowkey mean in the starting, this has no plot, it's just a braindump please don't take this seriously OR judge my personality based on this)

You heard him close the door to your apartment, his footsteps sounding heavier than they did usually. He had a bad day.

You'd been together for less than an year but you could tell how he was feeling just on the basis of the tempo of his feet on the floor.

His bag dropped on the floor with a 'thud'. He never announced his arrival, but he had a habit of greeting the cats. He didn't do that either. Today must've been really rough.

You got up from your bed a found him out in the living room. Practice clothes drenched in sweat, he was home late, you knew what had happened. He was frustrated with himself. You could see it in the way his brows scrunched and his body slumped.

"Hey. You good?" He just nodded in response.

"Let me get you some water-"

"No need." He cut you off. "I'm gonna shower first." He said as he walked in, shoes out of the rack, bag thrown in the middle of the room, very unlike him.

You put his stuff in place, shoes where they should be, bag in the little space in your bedroom it was always kept in. You decided to make him him a milkshake, he loved those after practice.

___

You could hear him coming out of the bedroom, his footsteps still a little heavy.

"I made a milkshake for you. It's on the table!" You told him from your place on the couch. He ignored it.

"Where is my bag?" He inquired.

"At it's spot, why?"

"I would have kept it myself. There was stuff in it that I needed to get out. Couldn't you just let it be?"

Ouch. Okay maybe you shouldn't have touched his things without telling him. He walked to the kitchen, you walked in a little, to find him quickly finishing up the shake, expression still grumpy.

You took the glass from his hands and stopped him as he was walking away, to which he let out a little sound of annoyance. You checked his temperature, he was sweating.

"I'm fine." He grumbled, swatting your hand away.

"No wait-" He didn't stop protesting, even after you insisted. He was eager to get away from you. But you didn't let him.

"Minho let me see-" He hastily stepped away from you.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE Y/N! I'M FINE!" He yelled in annoyance. The glass in your hand dropped to the floor and shattered.

You didn't even realise when you flinched or when your arms were up in front of your body like a badly made shield, expecting more lashing out or probably worse.

He didn't mean to snap, but he realised how much damage it had truly done when he saw you, your scared stature making you look so much smaller than you were, like a child trying to get away from a monster.

"What- Hey, hey y/n, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" He reached out to comfort you and apologize but his heart shattered when you took an unconscious step backward, trying to bundle up and fold further into yourself, as if to escape him.

He stepped back to give you some space, as much as he wanted to hug you close and to apologise profusely, he knew you needed space.

"I'm sorry." The apology that escaped you was barely audible. Why were you apologizing? He'd been the one to snap stupidly over some little things like an immature dumbass.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry I invaded your space when you were clearly drained from your day. I'll clean this up and I won't bother you anymore." You said as you cautiously sat down to pick up the shards of glass.

He didn't know what to say. He'd been so hurtful to you, yelled at you for something small and irrelevant. Been an insensitive jerk. And you apologized to him. Why? You should have hit him, been mad at him or refused to talk to him for the rest of the week and he'd have been better than he was now, knowing that you were apologizing for something that was far from your fault. But he made you believe it was. He knew how sensitive you were, yet he behaved like that.

He bent down in a squat to help you pick the pieces of glass. He didn't even know how to apologise to you and that made his guilt worsen.

The glass hadn't broken into small pieces so you finished quickly and threw them away.

"You didn't't have to help. I'd have managed it-" You paused abruptly and stood up and rushed to the cabinet, and then across the other side of the kitchen to where he was.

You grabbed his hand and began to tend to the cut he hadn't even realised he'd made in his hand. You cleaned the blood and checked for any small pieces of glass before you dabbed alcohol onto it. You sniffled lightly and he looked at your face. Your eyes were glossy and there were traces of messily wiped tears on your face. He made you cry.

You didn't cry easily.

"Fuck. I'm so, so sorry. y/n, I-" He tried to apologise but was met with a neutral tone, not a shaky one like his.

"It's fine. It wasn't your fault." You were retreating back into yourself. Self-isolating into your thoughts. He could see the signs. Whenever you needed to cope, you retreated into your mind, and it wasn't the best place to be. He could see your expression going from concerned to blank as you wrapped a bandage around his careless cut.

He needed to stop you from going into that headspace. Quickly.

You picked up the first aid kit and walked back to the cabinet. Minho stood up in a rush and followed you.

You turned away from him, you couldn't look at him right now. Or he'd be an angel again and make you forget how stupid you had acted. How you'd pestered him when he probably needed space-

Your thoughts are invaded the warmth of his body enveloping yours into a backhug. You were too tired to protest so you didn't. Even if you did, you'd probably have failed to escape the desperate iron grip he had on you. But you didn't reciprocate it. Part of you was still stirred because of his earlier outburst. You still believed he was mad at you. And he should be. Even if you were deeply hurt. Your brain told you it was your fault. That you deserved this.

"I'm so, so, so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to do that. You were just trying to take care of me, and I was being an asshole to you. I'm so sorry I snapped, I know my apology won't make it better or fix the damage, but I want to you to know that I regret it. A lot. I don't know how to make it up to you, I don't think anything would be enough. I never wanted to hurt you. Just...I guess I was pent up and released it in the wrong place. I'm so sorry, baby. Don't shut me out, please. Do anything. Be angry, call me an ungrateful piece of shit, cuss me out, hit me, yell at me, but don't isolate yourself. Please. I beg you- I'll do anythin-"

He cut off his rambling when you leaned your head back on his shoulder. You were back. You were out of your spiral of thoughts.

Slowly, you arms covered his, wrapped around your waist. Your face turned slightly towards him and he felt a hot tear touch his skin as it glided down, accompanied by a tiny, heartbreaking sniffle.

You let him turn you around and let his body warmth engulf you.

That was apparently all your brain needed to activate this pathetic cascade of tears. Fuck. Why couldn't you stop crying? Was it because he had reminded you of the people that had hurt you before? Or was it because this warmth had never been offered to you when you were hurt? Was it because you didn't have to pick yourself up anymore? To not deal with the crash because he'd pick you up before you had to.

Right then your mind reminded you of the people that would yell at you when you were younger, how you'd grown up always feeling like you were doing something wrong to anger them while all they ever did was to take their unreasonable hatred out on you. How you'd be surrounded by a constant guilt of never being able to fulfill their "little expectations". And an ugly, gut-wrenching sob tore out of somewhere deep within you.

Had it always hurt this much?

You were surprised, because you didn't feel guilty anymore. The usual guilt that accompanied whenever someone yelled at you wasn't here now. But you were hurt. Or maybe, you finally allowed yourself to feel the hurt instead of blaming it on yourself. You let yourself feel hurt without feeling guilty, and that was a big weight off your shoulders, one you never realized you'd had. But the tears didn't seem to stop. They were flowing out of you like they were carrying every pent up feeling and every buried frustration from over the years.

Did it hurt more than the others because it was him who yelled at you? You didn't know. All you knew was that you liked when he held you like this. So warm. So soft. So careful. His fingers threaded through your hair and his arm found it's way to rub your back. He rocked you in place, calming your racing mind and letting you cry your worries out.

You weren't the best at expressing yourself with words or at dealing with your trauma, so this was a welcome feeling, because most days, you didn't even know how to cry. But crying felt better than you expected.

You both stood there for a what felt like a second but was much more, before he slowly let go of your figure, still holding you hands.

"Please never yell at me again. Just tell me if I'm being a bother or doing something wrong. I'll fix it. But please don't yell?" Your voice was timid because of your little crying session.

"I would never. It wasn't your fault. At all. You were just trying to take care of me while all I did was be an ignorant asshole. I'm so sorry. You can take it out on me. I won't mind." He sniffled and you noticed the tears that had gathered in his pretty eyes.

"It's okay. I forgive you." You said, whispering, not wanting to break the little spell you both were in. You connected your forehead to his and closed your eyes. His presence was comforting.

"My reaction wasn't your fault. It's a reflex. I don't want to talk about the reason right now. All I want you to know is that it wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself. You were mentally overwhelmed. It's alright." You assured him.

"Ok. I want to insist it was my fault but I won't. Nonetheless, that was bad of me. How can make it up?" He asked you, lifting his head to look at your face. Red from all the crying with your eyes slightly swollen. You smiled, a little evil glint returning to your eyes.

"Clean the house and make me jjajangmyeon and maybe I'll think about it."

"Come onnn!" He whined at you.

"You asked for it!" You giggle and free your hands from him, aiming to walk out of the kitchen, but he pulled you back and buried his face in your neck.

"Fine", he sounded a little muffled, "but only if you keep me company while I cook." He sounds like a grumpy baby.

"Of course. But clean the house first. I'll go shower. Bye." This time you actually ran out of the kitchen. He giggled at your escaping figure.

He never wrapped his mind around how forgiving you were. He was pretty sure what he did today wasn't behaviour worth forgiveness but here you were, always so generous to him.

He sighed. His guilt still tugged at his heartstrings but he told himself that he'll be better. He'll be more thoughtful, more careful, more observant of his behaviour and of your triggers. He wasn't about to let impulsive reaction take him away from a person like you. He'll work on himself so that he can be worthy of you.

But he didn't know that how he'd handled the entire situation and how genuinely he had apologized was something no one had ever done for you. He'd secured himself a place in your life which probably wasn't getting out of anytime soon.

#leeknow #skz #stray kids #leeknow fluff #leeknow angst #hurt comfort #tw yelling #kpop #lowkey shit but nvm #i wrote it in a rush

[lauvwar-r]

07 from the start ⸝⸝ cold drinks and cowardice

"oh? we're not going to the library this time?"

it must be a sign, you think, holding a paper bag in your right hand and his hand in your left. it was late enough into the cold winter season for frosty breath and signature hot chocolate but warm dandelion rays seemed to follow you two and frame the campus perfectly.

"nah," you shrug, "pela said that the council agreed that the stage would be put in the middle of the campus uh- garden? lawn? grass area thingy- you know what i mean…"

"yeah! we thought the area would bring the most traction." you're not even looking at him: your nervous eyes glued to your surroundings with false confidence, but you know he's giving you that look. that sickening soft one that you often mistake for adoration.

it's… fond??

and it makes your heart race — just for a second, before remembering what he said before.

"not a date huh…" you mutter dejectedly.

truthfully, it kinda sorta hurt when you found out he said that. whilst not fully demolishing your ego and porcelain heart, it did pinch at you — like soft rope burn for your self-esteem.

but what hurt a little more was the fact that he never told you. never told you about his private account that is.

i mean yeah… i have one too, but that's because i talk about how much i like him on there, you reason with yourself. and i get privacy and everything. but, bronya? you thought him and bronya were just school friends. were you… even his best friend?

"hm?" a hum interrupts your spiralling thoughts.

"anyway! i thought we could like, survey the area. see how and should things be set out and work from there." you say with faux enthusiasm, "we can work on your quote-on-quote poster on a bench nearby too."

"...it's not that bad."

"uh huh," you tease, raising an eyebrow. whatever. who geppie lets follow his private doesn't mean anything.

eventually, you two end up sitting on a bench together that faces the lawn.

"oh come on! look," gepard laughs as he pulls out his laptop, already logged in and displaying a somewhat improved version of his last poster. the changes are minor, like font changes and whatnot. but you can tell just how much effort he put into it. effort he put into everything and anything he did. a quality of his that you love. "i got rid of some of the uglier images," he pointed out excitedly, shuffling closer to you so you could get a closer look, "just like you told me to." the last part, a whisper similar to the sweetness of vows.

"it's good…" you mumble, too busy clinging onto his words and soothing a racing heart.

"really?"

"really." you reply earnestly, hooded eyes studying yours.

you wanted to lean in. to tread past the tightrope of a line preventing you and gepard from being more than just friends; to finally speak your mind on what you've been feeling for the past few years.

but…

"ah!" you explain, pretending to remember something by suddenly grabbing your paper bag from before.

…you're a coward.

inside are two beverages and a warm pastry carefully wrapped in tissue. "my favourite…" gepard mutters, surprised, "you remembered."

"iced coffee. you always preferred things cold. and a pastry too! it's a thank you for yesterday and-"

his ears turn redder than the normal red-on-a-windy-day red. and you almost — almost considered this a win: a step over that line, before…

"ha. you really are my best friend."

ouch.

MASTERLIST ⸝⸝ previous! ⸝⸝ next!

𑁤 sypnosis. despite claiming to be 'rizz master 3000' name has failed to ask out their crush and childhood best friend, gepard, for a few years (L). with this new wave of courage, will this lovestruck idiot be able to confess before gepard buys a house and adopts 3 cats and a bunny with someone else? (this is a joke. geppie will not be adopting 3 cats and a bunny).

notes. . . omgg this is like my 6th time ive tried to post 😭 ( so sorry for the like 3week hiatus LMAO) anyways ive been trying to get into a law school for next year so college has been biting me in the ass lately. sending love to all yall tho <3

. . . tags @520cafe , @kitsuxiv , @91ed0 , @iridescentsunsetwaters, @yevene , @lunavixia , @vilthenothing , @ryuryuryuyurboat

#💐 ⸝⸝from the start𓂃⸼ #gepard landau #gepard x reader #hsr smau #hsr x reader #gepard smau #gepard x gender neutral reader #gepard x gn reader #gepard x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x you #hsr gepard #hsr #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai gepard #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail smau #honkai star rail x you

[ninapi]

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Save me (Ushijima Version)

Premise: Ushijima struggles to understand the concept of love and what is expected of him in said equation, but he finds himself in the predicament of wanting nothing more than to be with the woman he loves even if it gets in the way of his established lifestyle.

Word Count: 2510

Note: Welcome to the second route of the 'Save me' series! This one will be a bit less intense and will focus mostly in Ushijima himself, however, it starts right after chapter 1 from Semi's route (Link here), so I would suggest you read that one first if you haven’t.

Chapter 1: Soft colors in the air.

Ushijima was a simple man.

He would follow the same routine every day and it mostly revolved around volleyball.

The first thing he did when he arrived at his school was going to the gym and leave his sports bag there before heading over to his class and read his notes in preparation for the first class of the day.

But this morning things didn’t go as planned.

He was on his way into the main building when he saw you crouching down in what looked like a lot of pain, hovering over a flower bed. Once again, his body was moving on its own, it was starting to worry him how he wasn’t able to control his body at will lately. Thankfully, it only happened when you were there and you were rarely involved in anything volleyball related, otherwise, his career would be over.

“Good morning, (Y/N). Are you ok?” you looked up at him with glossy eyes, one of your hands cradling the other, “Oh! Ushijima-san! Good morning! Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry. I just got a thorn stuck in the palm of my hand and just can’t take it out, working with cacti is a pain, wouldn’t recommend it.”

Your smile was so bright, he thinks of how it could possibly light up an entire room. “Can I do something to relieve your pain?” he was now crouching besides you, giving the evil aggressor a heavy scowl.

He’s cute.

“Uhm, can you keep my hand steady? I can try to pluck it out with some tweezers.” he nodded while you were diving into your backpack one handed, looking for the much needed tool.

He held your hand as carefully as he could, gently prying it open for you. Your faces were only inches away, you were fully concentrated in the task at hand, your tongue poking out the side of your mouth while you plucked out the small invader. Ushijima was just lost on your face, the way your eyebrow twitched every time you dug deeper in your palm, the slight pool of tears in one of your eyes, your rosy lips parting in small gasps at the constant prickle.

This was the first time he’s seen someone’s face this close and in so much detail. He was intrigued, not only by you, but by his reactions. He doesn’t care much for people, specially not those who aren’t linked to the sport in any way.

 But you were different.

He could compare seeing you with how he felt after a morning run. It was his favorite moment of the day. He would run along the coast, watch the sunrise, pet a cat or two on his water breaks. The air tasted wonderfully, and he felt so full of energy afterwards, ready to tackle the long hours of study and practice ahead. He felt the same way every time he saw you smile, this sort of thing has never happened to him before, and he wonders what is it about you that make him feel so many things at once.

“YES! Got it!” your little outburst startled him, and he ended up bumping his forehead against yours. “Ouch. Sorry, Ushijima-san. Got too excited. Are you alright?” still being extremely close, you reached over to check his forehead, gently moving his hair away with your fingers, “My head is sturdy, nothing to worry about.” his answer made you chuckle, helping yourself up by holding onto his shoulder. “I wish my head was sturdy. Thank you for your help, Ushijima-san. You should probably hurry, I don’t want you to be late to class on my account.” he was about to leave now that you didn’t need any help, but his brain was having problems functioning on the way it normally does, he felt troubled, everyone called him by his last name, that was completely normal, but he kept on calling  you by your first name, was that a bad thing? Was he being rude? Did you perhaps not want to call him by his first name? He wants to believe you’re already close enough to be in first name basis, could it be possible that you don’t know his first name? He doesn’t remember ever telling you what it was.

“(Y/N)” he gave you a pointy look, and that’s when you realized he hasn’t moved an inch yet, he was just there, staring at the flowerbed, “Yes, Ushijima-san?” you knew he had communication issues, this is in fact the first time you’ve talked this much, even if its been mostly all you, “Would it be ok for you to call me by my first name too? Its Wakatoshi.”

Was that what he was thinking about so thoroughly? His oddly cute side was making you smile so brightly, he was just glad he still had some of the medicine he got the other day because his breakfast was coming back up at an intense speed, “Can I really? I would like that very much! But how about I call you…..Toshi-san! Yes, I like that better.” you were swaying happily, and it all ran in slow-motion in his eyes, the way your eyes sparkled at the mention of his name, the way your hair moved in the wind, he could swear he could even hear music in the background.

His expression softened and it’s the closest you’ve been to see him smile.

“Toshi it is, then.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

That afternoon right before practice he saw you talking with Semi in a corridor. He’s seen the two of you together often and he wonders why it bothers him this much. He should be happy for you, having friends is a good thing, his mother used to say that.

But his body keeps on playing dirty tricks on him, he feels restless whenever he sees the two of you spending time alone and he just can’t stop himself, he was nearly charging on your direction when thankfully, Tendo spots him and gets in the way. “Woah woah, buddy. Chill. What is it?” he looks around until he spots you laughing while Semi was laying against a wall with a smug grin on his face, “Oh ok, I see what’s happening. Breathe, Wakatoshi-kun. Come on, let’s go to practice.” he literally had to drag the heavy man around the school, his feet refusing to listen to his friend, “What is happening to me, Tendo?”

He was honestly worried and disheartened. He’s never been a violent person, he doesn’t even have time to analyze human behavior, he should be practicing right now, not sulking about life.

“It’s called having a crush. Happens to everyone.” Tendo pulled his friend to a bench, sighing at the look of confusion in his teammate’s face, “A crush? I haven’t crushed anything, Tendo. What are you talking about?”

“Well you almost crushed Semi.” he snickered at his own remark, “But I mean you like her. Don’t you?” Ushijima pondered the question; did he like you? Well, of course he did. You are a wonderful person, always kind to everyone, “I do. But don’t we all?”

“We do, my dear Wakatoshi, we do. But I mean as a woman, not as a female schoolmate. You know like, like like?” his head was spinning at this point, this conversation was more complicated than the math problem he had to solve this afternoon. “You speak nonsense. How am I supposed to understand what you mean when all you do is repeat the same word multiple times.”

Tendo sometimes wonders why he puts up with this man. There has to be a limit of how clueless one can be. “I mean like romantically; you want her for yourself. That’s why it bothers you when Semi is around her.”

Romantically? He’s read some romance novels that were a requirement for school work, but he never really understood their plot.

“How can you be so sure is that?” the wild grin in Tendo’s face was giving him the chills, “All I need to do is see your face to know that’s what it is about. You look at her the same way I look at chocolate cake. And that, my friend, is called love.” this was the first time Tendo ever heard Ushijima sigh, this was really getting to him.

That’s when they noticed you were coming their way, Semi tagging along. “Toshi-san!!” the sound of your voice is all he needed to understand that Tendo was probably onto something. He’s never felt anything similar to the way he feels when he hears your voice, it tingles his internal organs. “Do you like carrot cake? I baked some in class just now, it’s still warm!” you wiggled yourself out of Semi’s grasp, running all the way over to the bench.

He looked up at you with an almost defeated looking smile, making your breath hitch.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” your hand went straight up to move his hair away from his face and pressed your forehead gently against his, closing your eyes to feel in his temperature. He was definitely warm, but nothing too out of the ordinary as temperature goes. “You don’t seem to have a fever.” he shook his head, looking into your eyes. “Then what is it? Is it your tummy? Maybe carrot cake isn’t such a good idea.” you started retrieving the cake when Ushijima’s larger hand clasp around it, “It is not. I would like some carrot cake.”

“You sure? I can bake more for you another day if you aren’t feeling well.” the look of concern in your face was making it increasingly hard for him not to lose composure.

“My dear, (Y/N). Let the man eat some cake. Though, why are you just offering cake to him? What about me? You hurt my poor lonely heart, ingrate woman.” he heaves a pained huff, making you chuckle. “Sorry, Tendo-san. I didn’t see you there.” You didn’t see him? He’s been there the whole time.

“I see. Nothing to worry about, just make sure you give me some cake too.”

Semi was watching the entire scene unfold from afar, giving him mixed feelings. He’s gotten closer to you as time went by and he is confident now that you two are good friends and good friends support each other. He would like to think of a future where he would be the one getting the girl and not the guy who already has it all, but truth is he cares for both of you just as much and it is true what Tendo said, he’s never seen his captain make a face like that, let alone let someone touch him so freely.

“(Y/N) you are a wonderful cook.” the cake was gone before any of you noticed, making Tendo gasp in despair and Semi laugh.

He ate it all.

“Oh my god, that was fast! Sorry, Tendo-san. I’ll make sure to save some for you next time."

“What about me, (Y/N).” his face was full of crumbles, softening your heart and quickly turning it into a puddle of goo. “You can have as much as you want.” brushing the crumbles off gently with your hand, you smiled adoringly down at him.

“You’re right, Tendo.” he just blurted out staring at his friend while still being tended by you, having his friend panic and cover his mouth instantly.

“Right about what?” Tendo got up and stretched to get your mind out of it, “Oh, we were talking about cake just before you came. About how much I love it.” that made you feel bad, you didn’t know he liked cake so much otherwise you would have set some aside for him earlier. “I’m so sorry, Tendo-san. I just thought of baking this cake for Toshi-san and I…it was not nice of me to not think of the others, I will bake a larger cake next time, I promise.”  This time was Ushijima the one standing from the bench, “You made it for me?” the surprised expression on his face was unlike anything you’ve seen before, he was showing you so many different sides of him today, it made you feel things. “I did…I…I was thinking about this morning, and I thought maybe you’d like to have some carrot cake.” You were tripping over your words; your face was slightly red and your shaky smile was just out of this world precious. He didn’t know how the happening from this morning translated in your head to carrot cake, but he was thankful nonetheless, you were thinking about him when you baked it, and it was delicious.

“I didn’t know I needed carrot cake. Thank you for noticing, (Y/N), it was very good.” you nodded proudly, of course he would follow along, he’s always like this, even when he doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, he would never put you on the spot. His kindness was what you liked the best about him, even when people can’t see it straight away, you did. “Of course! Whenever you need something, I’m your girl! I mean…what? I..um…yeah…cake!”

Semi laughed so loud it made your shrink onto Ushijima’s shadow. “Shut up, Eita!” you pouted, grabbing your school bag and stomping away on the direction of your dorm. Just before you were too far away you turned around and saw Ushijima was looking at you without blinking, this made your smile come back and you waved at him before returning to your room.

“So I’m right, huh? Did you see that Semi-semi?? She literally had her face on his just like that! I wonder what they are not telling us. Do you know anything that I don’t? You’re awfully chummy with her.” to this Semi scoffed, of course he saw it all, the look on Ushijima’s eyes wasn’t one of surprise or discomfort, it was one of fondness, it was like he would let you do anything, without questioning. Very unlike him.

“Well of course I am, she’s my best friend. But sorry to disappoint you, I know as much as you do.”

“So that means you are not romantically involved with her?” his chest felt so much lighter, even without the medication, he could breathe more comfortably now.

“What? No, I’m not. Are you?”

What was it even being romantically involved with someone? He knew he had something different going on with you if he compared it with how the others treated him, but was that being romantically involved? Or what does it even entail? “I don’t think I have an answer to that question.” the two of them just nodded in understanding, they knew this wouldn’t be easy, but Tendo was satisfied with the progress, he got him to agree there’s something that needs to be thoroughly discussed and it would steal a few of his well-rested nights away.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

Tagged babes: @dazaisfavgf, @lauraagrace

Masterlist Next Chapter

#haikyuu!! #fluff #angst #slow burn #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hurt/comfort #haikyu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x female reader #hq fluff #hq x you #hq #hq x y/n #hq x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima fluff #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #shiratorizawa

[witchersoldier]

Kittens and Kisses

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

SUMMARY: headcanon for Eddie Munson becoming a cat person because of his cat person girlfriend.

WARNINGS: insecurities (but it's a blink and miss), pet names (kitten), one or two swear words and fluff, so much fluff.

WORD COUNT: +1200 (a bit long for a headcanon, I think)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first ever hc, I don't know if I got this right. First time writing for Eddie too, hope he's not ooc. Keep in mind that English is not my mother tongue and this was not proofread. Please be kind. Feedback always appreciated <3

★★★

I don’t think Eddie has ever had a pet before.

But he does love animals, that’s for sure.

Eddie would always play with the dog in the cannel across his trailer, and with every other dog wandering around the trailer park.

But he’s never really had any interaction with a cat before. He’d try to pet the street cats but they’d always run away, making him a bit frustrated.

You, on the other hand, always had a cat. Two cats, actually. You’d have more if you could.

Eddie has never visited your place, so he didn’t know you had them. It was common for you two to just head to his trailer after class (or whenever you felt like, really)

But one morning Eddie came to pick you up and drive you to school, like he always does, but you weren’t waiting for him on your doorstep like you usually are. He parked his van and knocked on your door.

You knew it was probably him and yelled for him to come in.

“You know it’s almost school time, right? What are you still doing inside?” he’d ask from your living room, he had no idea where you were or where your room was, so he waited for you to appear. Your cat beat you to it.

Eddie looked at your cat and crouched down slowly so not to scary the fluffy creature away like he always did to street cats.

He was in awe when the cat bumped their head on his hand. ‘Is this cat petting me?’ he thought.

“Sorry I’m late. That little devil you’re petting stole and hid the last scrunchie from my drawer and I had to look for it so I could tie my hair. Ready to go?” you asked, looking down at the metalhead kneeling to pet your cat.

He looked up at you like you had offended him “You never told me you had a cat” he said in disbelief. “I didn’t know we kept secrets from each other” he put his hand -that wasn’t petting the cat- to his heart, feigning betrayal.

“I’ll come clean, then: I have another cat. She’s probably hiding somewhere. She’s shy around new people.” You smiled at him interacting with the small creature, it made your heart jump around in your chest.

“Look at that, she’s just like you, my kitten.” He joked. “Can we skip class? I wanna be with your cats”.

“Already replacing me? Ouch.” You smiled and pulled him up by his arm, pushing him away from the animal and towards his van. “And no, we can’t skip class. But we can hang out here after school, if you’d like”.

Now that Eddie was standing up he was the one to look down at you. Those pretty doe eyes shining, happy that you finally invited him over.

He would never tell you this, but sometimes he thought you didn’t love him enough to invite him over. Now that insecurity of his was long gone and the bright smile you had was engraved in his heart forever.

He spent the whole afternoon playing with your cats, waving the feathery toy around.

He even tried to teach your cats a trick.

He failed.

But that’s alright, because he adores spending time with his kitten and the other two cats, the furry ones.

Since that day, Eddie and you spent more and more time at your place. Your cats warmed up to him. He was so good with cats, so gentle.

“You know, I always thought you to be a dog person, since you’re so energetic and loud. You’re a human golden retriever, honestly. It’s quite a surprise to me that you’re so good with cats.” You said, laying on your side facing Eddie, who had his head leaned against his hand, looking between you and the cat curled up in between.

“I mean, I am good to you and you’re a total kitten” he smirked at you, looking right into your eyes. That asshole, he knows just how much you liked when he called you that.

Heat spread through your cheeks and you looked away from his eyes, playing with your cat to try and conceal the shyness he made you feel.

“Such a shy kitten, aren’t you?” he leaned over and gave a peck on your lips.

For Eddie’s birthday, you decided to get him a cat.

First you talked with uncle Wayne to make sure it was okay to have a cat at the trailer.

As soon as he gave you the green light, you drove to the animal shelter to adopt a cat.

There were so many cute kitties.

But one of them caught your attention. He was all alone by the little blanket in the cage.

A fluffy black cat with a piece of his right ear ripped.

You knew Eddie would go for him.

‘He looks so metal’ he’d probably say.

But he just always had a soft spot for the lonely ones, the outcasts.

When you got to his trailer with a big box he instantly narrowed his eyes at you.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

He’s wondering if this was revenge for that birthday when he gave you that enormous box that had more boxes inside it and inside the smallest one (out of like 13 boxes) was a sketch he drew of a person laughing and giving you the middle finger with a “loser” written beside it.

After you finished complaining about the amount of wrapping paper and tape he spent, he gave you the actual gift he got you.

A cute heart shaped necklace with silver flames inside the black heart. Your initials graved in the back.

You also kept the sketch he made. Taped it to your locker at school.

But back to his birthday gift.

He eyed you curiously as you walked past him and placed the box on the counter.

“What are you waiting for, open it.” You told him excitedly. ‘Too excited’ he thought.

When he finally opened the box and saw the cat inside it, he started jumping from one foot to the other making happy noises.

“Are you for real?” he asked while holding the small fur ball. “Does he have a name?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m gonna call him Ozzy” he said. “I can call him Ozzy, right?”

You smiled at him, nodding and opening your arms to give him a hug. “Happy birthday, Eds.”

He hugged you back, not putting Ozzy down. “I love you so much, so fucking much” He said, looking into your eyes with so much love. You wished you could live in this moment forever. The first time he’s ever said he loved you.

You knew he loved you, he always showed you that. But hearing him say made your heart flutter. “I love you, too, Eddie. So fucking much.” You stood on your tiptoes and gently kissed his lips.

“I have two kittens now” he said, smirking down at you.

“Yes, you do” you returned his devilish smirk.

“But you know who’s my favorite one” he smiled lovingly at you and gave you a wink before holding Ozzy above his head. “He is” he said before running to his bedroom.

“You are an asshole, Edward Munson” you ran after him.

“But you love me” he said in that playful tone you adored.

“I do”.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #edward munson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things x reader

[atinytinaa]

Mister Ghostface

Pairing: Wooyoung x Fem!reader

Warnings: knife play?, mentions of a party and alcohol, refrences from the movie scream, a few swear words, short.

Genre: Fluff? a little bit sexual? Halloween, Secret admirer wooyoung.

a/n: Happy Halloween kiddos! i hope you all have a great day. I intended this to be a Halloween special for my story The lonely hearts club but it can also be read on its own.

I hope you like it, feed back is highly appreciated, please like and reblog, thank you for reading.

The cold evening wind blew hazardly outside your home, the leafless tree branches tapping against the big living room window, making your two best friends jump up from their seat on the couch, scared expressions on their faces as they looked around trying to find the source of the tapping.

"guys, calm down" you chuckled. "it's just the wind, no need to be scaredy cats"

It was your annual Halloween sleepover. Every year you guys did the same thing. Order pizza, open a few cans of beer and watch the same horror movies in the same order.

"Turn on the patio lights" came a raspy voice from the movie playing on the tv.

"Nah girl don't do it" San begged, as he curled up closer to Sana with a bowl full of popcorn.

This tradition started all because they had crashed your one man horror movie marathon. San and Sana had gone to a Halloween party, you also being invited, weren't interested in watching badly dressed drunk teenagers, grind against each other and drink cheap alcohol. 

You didn't know if you were more scared of the horror films you had picked out or having to watch a drunk San stumble into your living room, carrying an even drunker Sana on his back, the former mumbling that they had left the party because it sucked without you.

"Sincerely San, I don't understand how you can be so scared of these films!" Sana whined "we've watched them a million times!"

She slapped the boy on the back of his head, making a high pitched ouch leave his mouth, watching him as he nursed his head.

"It's not my fault I get scared easily!" he bickerd back, pulling a strand of her pink hair.

She gasped "you did not just pull my hair," the boy mimicked the words back to her in an overly high pitched voice.

You never really understood why they kept watching these movies with you, they were easily scared.

"Can you two shut up already?" you questioned the duo, freezing comically in mid air.  You let them settle back into their seats, getting a bit closer every time a scream would ring out from the speakers of the tv, the volume a little bit too loud.

The sound of your home phone ringing made you all jump, popcorn going everywhere. Then suddenly the warm glow of the living room lights shut off. The only thing you could hear was the howling of the wind and the scared screams coming from your friends.

"Every horror movie starts like this!" Sana screeched, diving in for a hug from the equally scared San .

Shaking your head at their antics, you made your way to the kitchen cabinet, taking out a torch.

"It's the fuse box," you replied, handing the item to San, his shaky hands receiving it. "both of you go check it out".

Smiling, You watched the pair link arms and make their way to the sliding doors of the back yard, fighting about who would walk out first into the night.

The sound of the phone ringing again made your heart stop, not from frightness, but... Excitement.

 With giddy steps, you answered the phone, knowing exactly who it would be on the other side.

"Well, well , well" you said, playing with your hair, a big smile gracing your lips.  I didn't think you'd call me this year, you're late."

The only thing that came from the other side was a deep chuckle and the same question you were asked every year.

"Do you like scary movies?" The enhanced voice rasped, making you bite your lip.

"Meet you up stairs".

And with that you hung the phone and made your way up the staircase to your room. 

You walked in slowly on your toes, searching around your room for your Secret admirer but without warning a white masked intruder, dressed in all black pounced on you.

A small shriek left your body as the figure pinned you against the door, one hand holding your wrists above your head ,while the other held a knife to your throat.

"You scared me!" you laughed out.

The individual stared down at you, as their chest rose up and down, breath coming out in hurried pants, body buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

You tried to push him away but a growl left the male, as he pushed your small figure further into the door, enforcing his strength on you

 The unknown male had been sneaking into your room through the window since you were a kid, sporting a different costume every Halloween with a mask on, not once showing you his face or talking, not willing to give away his identity.

"what?" you questioned, eyes twinkling from the situation, "Do you want me to say the line?"

Everyone who knew you, knows that you have an unhealthy obsession with horror movie characters, especially ghostface from scream, even going as far to tell the male your fantasies with said character.

At your words he titled his head to the left, confused, not one sound coming from him. You just rolled your eyes and scoffed out "okay, fine" as you cleared your voice, preparing yourself for the oscar winning performance you were about to give.

"oh you wanna play psycho killer?" you taunted bringing your face closer to the masked man who nodded at your words.

Bringing up the acting by ten folds, you sported an innocent look, making bambi eyes at him.

"Can I be the helpless victim?" He nodded back once again, making you bite your lip.

"No, please don't kill me mister ghostface i want to be in the sequel" you finished, laughter messing up the last few words.

Out of no where the male dropped the fake knife, now pinning you against the door by your neck, giving it a little squeez, making a pornographic moan leave your lips, a bratty smile gracing your face at his actions.

"you're into some weird shit mister ghostface"

If only San and Sana knew what was going on here, they would have probably put you in a mental hospital.

You heard a tsk leave the figure, as he took his hands off of you, taking a few steps back, he reached into his back pocket,  presenting you with a red rose and a small bag of your favorite candy.

You pushed yourself off the door, happiness washing over you as you accepted the goodies.

"oh how will i ever repay you mister ghostface?" you gushed using the same voice as before.

"you know exactly what to do" he whispered, not loud enough to make out who the voice belonged to.

You made your way to the edge of your bed, sitting down with your legs wide open, enough space for him to sit on his knees between them.

You sighed, lifting your hand slowly to the mask making him flinch away.

"I promise i'll close my eyes," you whispered staring into his eyes, peeking through the small holes of the mask.

without another word he got closer to you, letting you slide his mask up just enough for his lips to peak out.

"Happy Halloween Mister Ghostface"

You closed your eyes and kissed his soft lips, smiling into it when you felt his leather gloved hands hold your cheeks lovingly, caressing your face with his thumb, the action creating exploding fireworks in your stomach.

The kiss was slow, gentle and passionate, a big contrast from your earlier actions.

you wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to see where the night would lead you but you were running out of time, there was only so much San and Sana could do when they found the fuse box.

Once his mask had been placed back to its rightful position, the lights turned back on, making the figure jump to his feet ready to leave out the window.

"Wait," you grabbed his hand.

"Do I know you?"

He sighs and nods.

"y/n?" You heard Sana call from down the stairs.

"Go, go, go," you whispered, pushing the male out the window.

Gasping you peaked your head out the opening, looking down at the male making sure that he was alright.

You smiled as he walked away from your house, twinkling his fingers in a goodbye. Deciding to be bold, you sent him a flying kiss, which he responded, by catching it and putting it in his pocket.

"Are you alright?" you heard come from behind you.

Turning to see sana standing in your doorway, staring at you with a judging look.

"y-y-yeah i was just checking if the other neighbors lights also went out."  a small blush rising to your cheeks at the thought of getting caught.

San makes his way up the stairs, jumping on the last step.

"what's going o- oh candy!" He threw himself at the goodie bag, taking out a red twizzler, gnawing at it cutely making you chuckle.

"y/n?" sana called to you, staring at something on the bedroom floor, you followed her gaze and what you saw made your eyes widen.

"Why is there a fake knife on your floor?

Shit.

Wooyoung watched you from the street in front of your house, a love sick smile on his face as he watched you scrunch your nose up in laughter.

His heart was beating so fast at the thought of the kiss you both shared, his lips tingling as he brushed his index and middle finger against them.

Lost in the feeling, he was brought out of his thoughts by the buzzing sound of his phone, he groaned as he stared at the caller ID, knowing he was about to get an earful.

He turned and started the trail back to his house, answering the phone call and bringing it to his ear.

"Wooyoung!" screamed Yeosang from the other line. "Where the hell are you? You literally left your own party and me alone,again!"

He chuckled at his friend's words, not caring a single bit at what he had done, the boy was too happy.

"i'll be there in 5 minutes" he replied, listening to the autmn leaves crunch under his heavy combat boots.

"Did you take my ghostface costume?"

He stopped in his track at his friends words, being caught.

Shit.

#ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez oneshots #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #wooyoung au #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x reader #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween #ateez fluff #ateez wooyoung #ateez smut #kpopidol #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

[charlotte-official]

THE STEAMBIRD: 11/19 - 11/28

ooc: afiehafieho late again.. oops. hwfehw this weeks issue is not it ngl ive done better

HEAD OF THE KAMISATO CLAN ENTANGLED WITH... HOUSEKEEPER?

Kamisato Ayato, the head of the Kamisato clan, was accused by his sister, Kamisato Ayaka, for being “loud” with the Kamisato’s housekeeper at night. This housekeeper is Thoma.

It started like this: Kamisato Ayato called Miss Kamisato a disappointment to the clan as a whole. At first she was nonchalant, however, simply being a tad wounded, saying “ouch, fuck you too and your boyfriend.”

Thoma, the alleged boyfriend, responded, a little sad, asking what he had done since he had not contributed to the insult from Kamisato Ayato.

Ayaka, with an eye roll, commented that she could hear the two from her room. 

The older Kamisato, flustered, tried to cover it up by saying they were “fighting.” Thoma frantically agrees, and Ayaka, seeing through the two’s ploys, sighed, having “never imagined her brother would be a bottom.”

ARATAKI GANG - TAX SHENANIGANS

Arataki Itto, leader of the Arataki Gang (or how he calls himself, Arataki Numero Uno the one and oni head honcho Itto), suddenly burst in, hollering to the Deputy leader of the Arataki Gang, Kuki Shinobu. 

Itto, frantically, asks Kuki what taxes are why people are telling him that if you don’t pay them monthly it’s a crime. 

Kuki Shinobu, exasperatedly, asks Itto if he’s been paying his taxes. Itto replies that he doesn’t even know what taxes are and thought that “granny oni” handled them for him. Kuki Shinobu sighs and face palms while Itto continues to pester her, asking what taxes are.

Takuya, the blue oni, admits to Shinobu that he too, is confused on what taxes mean. Arataki Itto quips in, asking how to even SPELL taxes.

In an attempt to spell the word, Kuki Shinobu face palms, obviously tired of his shenanigans.

Takuya taps him on the shoulder, and tries to tell him how to spell the word. Itto, however, stubbornly tells him that his method of spelling the word doesn’t make sense and ignores him, adamant on not admitting he’s obviously wrong.

Kuki Shinobu, tired of the Gang’s shenanigans, buckles down and writes out an “Arataki Gang PSA.” Which, obviously, explains the premise of taxes.

Arataki Itto stubbornly proclaims that he refuses to read all that, and Kuki nonchalantly says that she won’t be busting him out of jail next time. Itto immediately takes back his statement and rushes to read the PSA. 

After Itto reads the PSA, he blinks at Shinobu, telling her that the government doesn’t know he makes money.

Kuki blinks at him, and then tells him that technically, if the government doesnt know, he technically doesnt have to pay taxes but is also illegal, and that maybe he shouldnt be proclaiming such a thing so loudly in a public place.

Following suit, the two pretended that this never happened at all.

TEYVAT - DOUBLE TROUBLE?

With duplicates and clones n such being all the rage as of lately, it was revealed that another Arataki Itto of the Arataki Gang was discovered. The two pointed at each other and opted to immediately beetle fight. They then flung attack names at each other which were.. More often than not named after body parts.

In fact, even Liyue’s top legal advisor has got herself a twin! Yanfei, Liyue Harbor’s top legal advisor, found herself her own duplicate. In fact, the two are still figuring out what’s going on!

Oh but we can’t forget the first pair! That, being the bard Venti from Mondstadt, and his.. Nameless counterpart. The two are a little less alike, anyhow, Venti being an absolute drunkard and Nameless bard being.. Dead. And also more responsible.

But of course, to top them all, is Il Dottore! The fatui Harbinger with all of his clones!

LIGHT OF KSHAREWAR GOES A LITTLE INSANE BUT STOPS WHEN OFFERED.. SOUP.

The light of Ksharewar, Kaveh, is revealed to have not eaten in 2 days. The first to find this out was none other than his eldritch horror of a cat, Adi.

Adi scolds the architect and tells him to eat. Kaveh, being a little.. Out of it.. tries to eat air. Adi, with an exasperated sigh, calls his “roommate.” (Alhaitham)

A fact the Architect has been desperately trying to deny.

The prior scribe and current Acting Grand Sage, looks at the sustenance-deprived Architect and tells him to eat and that he cant just. He cant just eat air.

Kaveh denies it and goes back to trying to eat air.. Before Alhaitham says he’ll make him soup if he goes home right now and eats.

Kaveh, absolutely bewildered, folds immediately, and rushes back to their alleged shared home.

FATUI HARBINGERS: REGRATOR AND DOCTOR OFFICIALLY TO BE WED

Pantalone- or the Fatui Harbinger known as the Regrator- according to my sources, consulted his fellow Harbinger Sandrone. 

Following the consultation, which I assume was a pep talk, Pantalone went to go talk with the Doctor, or Il Dottore. 

Entering the kitchen, the Regrator faced the Doctor and got on one knee. Reaching into a pocket, the Harbinger pulled out a box containing a diamond ring. 

With a heartfelt proposal, the Regrator asked for Dottores hand in marriage. 

Dottore, dumbfounded, could not believe his ears.  It was only after Pantalone repeated himself a second time that he was able to respond.

Even then, however, he was unable to believe that Pantalone would really propose to him. 

After a few loving words of reassurance, the Doctor caved and said yes. 

And thus, the two are to be wed!

headlines:

Itto and webttore argue about eating watermelon crusts and purple and blue haired man from another world argues with itto

Sandrone wants to be dottores harness.

Itto asks if Kaeya gay. Kaeya then turns the conversation around to accuse Itto of being gay.

Diluc is asked if he is the darknight hero. By Itto. He swiftly denies the accusation.

Itto tells Lisa she is sexy. The conversation devolves into Lisa telling him he seems like a man kisser and itto frantically trying to deny the allegation.

Madame Faruzan is appalled after being called old (with disrespect) by Itto

Xiangling and Yanfei begin their journey around Teyvat to go dirt tasting.

blogs mentioned:

@xiangling-official @yanfei-official

@yanfeiofficial

@autistic-arataki-itto @faruzan-official @librarian-lisa-official @diluc-official @kaeya-official @sandrone-official @dottore-official @webttore-official

@thebxnkersprayer

@kaveh-official @alhaitham-official

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#the steambird #yanfei #xiangling #itto #faruzan #lisa genshin #diluc #kaeya #sandrone #dottore #webttore #pantalone #kaveh #alhaitham #kavetham #haikaveh #venti #ayaka #ayato #thoma #kuki shinobu #takuya genshin

[huamea]

— ° 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐢𝐯𝐲

› belphegor x f!reader (you/yours)

› cw: sleep deprivation + associated symptoms, dream encounter, thigh riding, biting, fingering, mirror sex, spit, fingers in throat

› wc: 1.6k

› synopsis: a certain demon has plagued you with late night visits since your early adulthood, giving rise to resentment as he continually interferes in your life from your dreams. But is he really all that bad, or is he just trying to show you the desires you deny yourself?

Saying you hated him was perhaps a little extreme, some part of you felt oddly connected to the devil that had sunk his fingers into your mind over the years. Difficult to not form some connection, even one of spite, with someone you see so frequently.

Not that you physically see him, no that would be too easy to deal with. This one afflicts you in your dreamscape, a much crueler form of connection. You weren't sure when it really began, perhaps he'd been there all the while and you'd only grown to truly see him as you aged. Though, that may just be a small paranoid part of you speaking.

Still, his meddling has undoubtedly impacted your life in negative ways. Unable to feel rested no matter how much you slept, the constant fogginess, and the persistent nausea from lack of sleep had left you nearly ruined.

Tonight was no different, opening your eyes to a dreamy copy of your bedroom and feeling the chill in your bones knowing he was perched on the sill of the open window.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"Ouch, hostile tonight?" His playful tone made your teeth clench. "Did I catch you on a bad day?"

Heavy footsteps brought him to your bedside, making you rise propped on your elbows to glare up into his deep violet eyes and resenting the mirth you saw in them.

"Every day I see you is a bad one," you hiss, "can't I have one night to myself?"

"You know, there's easier wishes to grant... I just can't help myself with you." His careless attitude made you deflate quickly, instead training your eyes on the wall as you felt the mattress dip with his weight beside you.

"I'm going to figure out how to get rid of you," you mutter more to yourself than your unwelcome guest.

He's quick to take advantage of your momentary distraction, slipping one arm behind your back and lightly pushing you down onto the mattress, forcing your back to arch while the other hand wrestles your wrists into a firm hold. Anger superheated your blood and caused you to nearly bare your teeth up at him.

"What am I supposed to do with you, hm? You're so uncooperative." His statement was punctuated by the way he leaned over you, your noses millimeters apart.

"You won't do anything with me unless I want to," your voice wobbled in a strange way, making you even more embarrassed by the easy way he'd brought you to this position.

He scoffed, "of course not, what kind of demon do you take me for? But how about a little proposition, I know I can relieve some of your stress without even touching you," his eyes glimmered as his voice took on a softer tone.

You hated that you were honestly considering it, but it's not like you were as disgusted by him as you pretended to be. If he weren't such a pain you'd be able to acknowledge his objective attractiveness. It would be easier without him touching you though...

"No hands and no fingers? If you're lying to me-"

"Cross my heart," he interjected cheekily.

Gingerly he guided you back up, before switching your positions and leaning back against the pillows and lightly patting his thigh; smirking all the while like the cat who got the cream.

Oh you bastard.

Your movements were jerky and leaking trepidation as you straddled his thigh, heat rising furiously beneath your skin in humiliation. That feeling mounted as your crotch rubbed lightly against him, already feeling embarrassingly aroused by the action.

But you couldn't help it, with how perpetually exhausted you've been the only hands on your body lately have been your own. Timidly you moved your hips again, desperately trying to keep your eyes off his face as your hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. That didn't stop you from catching his flexing hands in your peripheral, biting your lip in a small sense of satisfaction that clearly not being able to touch you was difficult for him.

As your confidence grew any lingering concern over what you were doing became distant in your mind, your movements were bordering on frantic as you chased the sparks of pleasure from the friction of your underwear rubbing against your throbbing clit and making your cunt spasm.

Your throaty groans and Belphegors soft hums of approval filled the room as your wide eyes settled on the growing erection in his pants and shivered from the way his hungry gaze was practically burning a hole through you.

"Look at you," he rasped out, "where'd all that bite go?"

Smirking you didn't dignify a response, opting to grab his shoulders and lean in against his neck. It was fitting the tables turned and you get to be the torturer, licking a long stripe up his throat and listening to his sharp intake of breath as your teeth lightly sunk into his flesh.

Before his hands could make contact with your body, you anticipated his snapping resolve and pushed yourself away from him, nearly gasping from the abrupt lack of sensation.

"You said you wouldn't touch me-"

"You don't want me to touch you?"

You froze, any response drying up like a rain starved stream as your thoughts seemingly short circuited. Did you really not want him to touch you... The question flip flopped in your head from one extreme to another.

"If you can look me in my eyes and say you don't want me to touch you I'll leave you alone forever," he whispered.

Suddenly it was impossible to speak altogether, any rational part of your mind that would weep in joy at the idea of getting peace back was warring with the part that craved a continuation of your momentary pleasure.

"Use your fingers this time," the words came out breathy, "please." The urge to hide from the humiliation of giving in was drowned by your lust, nevermind the consequences of your choice.

In a rush of clumsy desire you both reposition, Belphie getting you sat between his legs with your own spread wide in front of the standing mirror at the foot of your bed leaned on the wall. You almost don't recognize yourself, all lust blown eyes and disheveled pajamas.

"I want you to watch, remember every little sound I pull from you. Every expression you make. Don't close your eyes," he whispered against the shell of your ear, but it was difficult to process his words when you could feel his erection pressing against your ass.

Slowly his hand traveled downward, massaging your clothed breast, teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts before slipping past them and letting his fingers brush against your clit to make you jolt. His other hand came to caress beneath your jaw, sliding his index against your lips to demand you open your mouth.

You obliged, a whine that he tugged out of you with another brush to your clit was muffled as fingers stuffed your throat. Your eyes rolled back feeling him apply firmer pressure to your now aching clit, circling it and alternating the stimulation. It made your head spin and your hips buck pathetically into the palm of his hand, garbled moans cut into the tension as saliva trailed down through his fingers to drop on to your chest.

What you saw in the mirror sent a feeling similar to electric shocks through your nerves. Fingers stuffed into your mouth, the shiny drool sliding down his hand, the wet splotches on your shirt and his hand furiously working inside your shorts. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to.

His pace slowed, prompting more jumbled noises to burst between his fingers as your hips impatient wiggled against his hand to chase your high.

"Say you want me, maybe I'll let you cum," he teased, tongue sliding over your earlobe to make you shiver as his fingers pulled past your lips.

Without being stretched the skin of your lips was now throbbing in their relaxed position, making speech feel impossible.

Still you forced it out, watching the grin stretch his lips with each syllable.

"I want you- I need you-"

Before you could finish two fingers slid lightly inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit making your plea dissolve into a squeal. He'd tipped you past the point of no return, you opened the door and ushered him inside.

You arched against his chest as his fingers scissored and stretched to hit those spots that made your vision turn to television static, coupled with the steady pressure on your clit it felt like someone released a high pressure spring inside your abdomen.

Within seconds you'd disobeyed his command, unable to help closing your eyes and throwing your head back against his shoulder as the wave of ecstasy crested, feeling the bed become soaked beneath your ass and you unabashedly squirmed in his hold and rode out the high of your orgasm.

Your thighs continued to shake even after he pulled his hand away from your spasming cunt, sighing contentedly as your body slumped back against his.

"I can't believe we did that," you spoke softly, voice small.

He placed a lingering kiss to the side of your head, fingers stroking your cheek.

"We can do that as much as you want," his words were muffled against your head, "I tried to tell you it wasn't a bad thing having me around."

You rolled your eyes halfheartedly as you allowed yourself to relax further in his arms. Maybe he was right, and it would be nice to look forward to sleeping again. Perhaps you didn't want to get rid of him after all...

#obey me smut #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #belphegor x reader #belphie smut #belphie x reader #om! belphegor #obey me imagines #sorry if theres errors i finished this while fighting my sleep meds #☆;writing