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#calls their so an overly familiar name
zombiefiilm · 3 months
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Fell in Love
spencer reid x gn!reader
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summary: you hadn't expected your friend spencer to be home from his most recent case yet, let alone passed out on your couch
warnings: confessions, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n
word count: 1.5k
The moment the key hit the lock of your front door, you practically felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You had been working all day and there was nothing you wanted more than to change into your pyjamas and watch tv for the rest of the night.
Once inside your apartment, you shut the door, instantly dropping your bag to the floor and your keys onto the table. Your shoes were kicked off and your jacket was strewn across a random chair in a matter of seconds and you were ready to run into your bedroom.
But, as you passed by the living room, you caught a glimpse of someone sleeping on your couch, shoes and coat still on.
Really, you should have been a bit more startled by the sight of someone in your home, considering you lived alone, but you were all too familiar with Spencer's habit of dropping by unannounced.
You stopped in your tracks, walking around to the front of the couch and called his name.
"Spencer" you were met with an annoyed groan as he flipped onto his other side.
"Spencer" you called again, louder, shoving his shoulder slightly. No response.
"Dr. Spencer Reid" you practically yelled right into his ear and you watched him jump this time, turning to face you again.
"I gave you a key for emergencies" you scolded, watching as he sat up and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"I'm sorry" he sounded overly sincere "I didn't want to go home."
Then you realised that this wasn't just his regular habit of dropping in whenever he was bored, he needed comfort. You knew all to well the toll his job took on him, with everything that’s happened to him you were surprised he was able to hold up as well as he did.
“Oh Spencer” you half-whispered, sitting down on the couch right beside him, shoulder practically pressed against his. “Do you wanna talk about it?”.
“Not really, I just need to get my mind off everything” he sat up a bit straighter, facing you now.
You nodded in response.
“Is that new?” his gaze was suddenly fixated on your wrist as he reached down to your new watch.
“It is” you told him, lifting up your arm to show off the item adorned with a silver band.
“Did you get it in a pawn shop?” he seemed to be doing a pretty good job at distracting himself now, taking interest in random things like he always did.
“How did you know?” you laughed slightly, bringing your arm back down to your side.
“It’s Cartier” he explained “I know you wouldn’t be able to afford a new one, they range from four thousand to hundreds of thousands of dollars”.
“Wow” you feigned offence.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I just know you wouldn’t spend that kind of money, even when you treat yourself” he almost panickingly explained himself but you still felt a little proud at him knowing things about you. You hated spending a lot of money on yourself and you wanted to treat yourself, hence the new item in your collection.
“Did you know that Cartier was the first healer to use platinum in jewellery making? And they popularised the wristwatch in 1904, it’s really quite interesting”
“I didn’t, Reid” you joked. “Do you want some food? I got groceries yesterday so I could make you anything you want”.
“I’m okay” he sighed slightly “I’m just tired”
“You can sleep in my bed, no reason you should be hurting your back on the couch"
"No its okay, I don't want to put you out. I'm fine out here, really."
"I'm not going planning on going to bed for a while, at least go in there and get some rest, okay?"
He simply nodded his head and got up to go to your bedroom, calling out a goodnight as he approached the door.
You spent a few hours lounging about, mindlessly watching Friends reruns to procrastinate anything that actually needed to be done. Eventually though, the tiredness caught up to you and you decided to camp out on the couch for the night.
You cracked open your bedroom door and the small amount of light that flooded in from the hall presented Spencer completely out of it in your bed, his white shirt half unbuttoned and his trousers twisted around him while the rest of his clothes were piled on the floor beside him.
You smiled to yourself as you went to grab a spare pillow and blanket from your wardrobe, preparing to set yourself up on the couch for the night.
As you went to leave the room once again, you heard him sleepily call your name.
"Yeah?" you turned around to him again, seeing him adjust himself slightly.
“Do you want the your bed back?” He began to sit up, the rustling sound of the duvet filling the air.
“You can stay there, don’t worry about it” there was a silence then, you could tell he was about to say something, but he was struggling to get it to slip past his lips.
"Could you stay with me, please" he looked away bashfully "just for a bit”. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was giving you a puppy-dog look, eyes wide and lip practically quivering.
“Of course” you dumped everything that was in your hands onto the end of the bed and crawled up beside Spencer.
Without another word, you pressed yourself up right against him, grabbing his hand with yours and smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand. Just the few moments of silence with you sitting there had done Spencer some good, he had already felt himself calming down, and some of his recent anxieties melting away.
The quiet didn’t last long though before Spencer was saying your name again. “Can I tell you something?”
You turned your head to look at him, your eyes finally adjusting to the dark so you could see all of his emotions bleeding through his expressions. You nodded your head, humming slightly to urge him on.
“I really appreciate you, a lot” he hesitated slightly, searching for the words to use next.
“I appreciate you too Spence” you requited.
“No, I’m thankful for everything you do. You have always been there when I need you, you always know exactly what to say to me, you care about me. And I truly hope you can say the same about me”
“Of course I can”
“I need you in my life more than you could ever know” he continued “you’re the most important person to me in the whole world, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You looked at him, almost flabbergasted, not knowing what to say that would truly encapsulate how much you cared about him, how happy you were that he appreciated you.
“I like you” he paused “I love you, so much” his words were powerful, they rung in the air as they travelled towards your ears.
“Love?” you repeated, questioning his use of the word. You were no stranger to platonic love but his previous confessions had you questioning the intention of his last sentence.
“I love you, I want to be able to call you mine. I want to come home to you every day, to spend every minute I can with you, to have a future where you’re the centre of all my plans.”
You were practically stumped, the emotions you were feeling rendering your mouth useless.
“If you don’t feel the same way-“ he suddenly became incredibly panicked, spitting out as many words as he could to explain himself before you could cut him off.
“Spencer” you took a deep breathe “I love you too” it was a much shorter confession than his, but you didn’t need to say anything more to him, the confirmation was all he needed.
In the time it took you to blink, your faces were centimetres apart. And then his lips were on yours.
Your body felt like it lit up on that moment, the feeling of his lips on yours waking the butterflies in your stomach. You wasted no time tangling your fingers into his hair and lightly tugging at the roots as his hands slid around your waist, softly massaging your flesh.
It was gentle, his tongue softly slipping into your mouth as you let him do what he wanted, let him take the control.
The kiss was short though, as sleep had began to take over both of you. You mutually pulled away, silently agreeing to lie down, cuddling into one another.
With one more peck on the lips, you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.
There was plenty of time to talk it out, to figure out everything between each other, but for now all you needed was the feeling of one another pressed together and the feeling of mutual admiration.
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wrioluvr · 3 months
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christmas with your sub yandere boyfriend ❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎
short drabble for today's occasion! merry christmas and happy holidays, everyone! ♡ gn reader, suggestive content
stumbling back to your apartment in an exhausted state, you can't help but lament the fact that you had to work so late on christmas eve, of all days. every hour that passed, came another distressed text from your boyfriend, desperately asking when you'd be back home. when he video called you during your break, he was so excited to spend your first christmas together, he was practically bouncing all over the place. given that he'd been trying to win your affections in any way possible over the past year (especially using his favourite method of clinging to your thighs and begging while sobbing), this was quite possibly the second best day of his life. the first being the day you accepted him as your boyfriend, of course. opening the door, his usual overly enthusiastic greeting, wearing nothing but an apron lovingly stitched with "[name's]" was replaced by an unusual silence. the room was lit by the soft, romantic glow of candles only he'd take the time to carefully set down, but yet he was nowhere to be found. looking at the clock, you realised that it's already past midnight, which meant that it was christmas already. he probably just got tired waiting and went to sleep. seeming to read your mind, your train of thought was interrupted by a bashful, familiar voice coming from the christmas tree the two of you had put up together a few days ago. you look over, and there he was in all his glory. he was naked, the only thing adorning his skin being the pretty red ribbon he'd tied himself up with like a gift, rendering him helpless to your every desire. "hey.... i'm here." he says shyly, looking up at you as you crouched at the base of the tree to meet his eyes. "what in santa's name are you doing?" you sighed, reaching over to loosen his binds. "w-wait! i did this for you... i'm your present! you can do whatever you want with me." his lust-filled eyes shimmer as he fantasises about you having you way with him, while his arms and legs are tied, unable to resist. "merry christmas, darling." he whispers, imploring you to do something to him, anything. this was going to be a long night, wasn't it...? ❆
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stsgooo · 4 months
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Subconscious Reassurance.
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✩࿐ summary: even the strongest has dreams he longs to be reality.
warning(s): slight 236 spoilers, shibuya incident spoilers, mentioned death, poor coping mechanisms, lovesick!gojo, girldad!gojo, as usual not proofread (it’s 2 am give me a break). wc; 3.6k
pairing(s): gojo satoru x reader
a/n: keep seeing tiktoks about the lamp story and this came to me. it’s a shortie but i just wanted to get this out. also do we prefer the colorless manga panels or the ones like the above one? i was messing with filters on picsart so lmk :)
divider 1 | previous work | ao3
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SATORU ARRIVED HOME EXACTLY 7 PM.
He knew it was true because that’s the time he always arrived. There was no need to glance at the clock or question anyone around him. He knew it was 7PM.
The sun was peeking through the curtains and basking your shared home in a golden hue. Warmth enveloped his very being as he closed the front door behind him. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t being touched by the sun, that wasn’t feeling the same feelings he did.
The sky outside was illuminated in a mixture of purples, reds, oranges, and pinks. A palate that could be implemented into his very soul and he’d smile in return.
“Daddy!”
The call was familiar and came exactly one minute after Satoru walked through the door.
Again, he didn’t need to glance, he just knew.
A smile blossomed on his lips and he crouched down to catch the little girl that jumped into his arms with a loud squeal. Her nose pressed into her cheek as she happily rambled about how much she missed him. A norm and a routine that he greeted happily with his own reassurances that he missed her infinitely more.
"Daddy," she whined, her tiny chubby fingers reaching up for his blindfold. "Can't see your eyes, daddy."
This happened every night after he arrived home. She would always frown and trace her nails over where his eyes would definitely be. Most of the time it was uncomfortable and, frankly, a little scary, but he always welcomed it with an overly dramatic gasp.
"Oh, sorry, daddy forgot!" He hooked his finger under the fabric and pulled it down to rest against his neck. Her eyes (which were his) met his and brightened considerably. "Is that better, Rie?"
Rie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"
Despite the aching behind his right eye, Satoru kept the blindfold off for Rie’s sake. She had always expressed her upmost displeasure for the item since she was a baby. Crying and crying until he finally pulled it off. It’d been a rough first few years trying to get used to pulling the thing off whenever he got home. But he’d grown accustomed to it.
“What’s mama up to?” Satoru asked softly, tracing his finger briefly over the bridge of Rie’s nose as she giggled.
The little girl swayed slightly in his arms. “Mama’s been working in the eating room—“ dining room, Satoru softly corrected with a smile, “—she put on on Yuki for me to watch while she worked.”
“Yuki, huh? Lucky you!” He playfully pinched her cheek which resulted in her swatting his hand with a resounding “daddy!” in protest. Satoru adjusted her on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Should we go bother mommy?”
Like usual, Rie enthusiastically nodded in response.
Poor you.
True to his routine, he made his way from the front door towards the dining room, loudly. He left no room for you to not hear him coming him and gave you ample opportunity to prepare for his and Rie’s interruption on your precious work (he swore you were almost as bad as Nanam— …. as… as…).
The smile on his lips didn’t falter as his mind trailed away from the forgotten name. What was forgotten obviously wasn’t entirely important. He enthusiastically turned the corner, arm thrown out as Rie squealed happily as his rather jerky movements.
You were as you always were. Responsible. In your usual space occupying your rightful position.
Despite the loud (dramatic) entrance he made, you did not react in anyway. Your eyes were glued to your screen as you furiously typed away a response to whoever got on your bad side today. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. In fact, this should’ve been around the time Gakuganji of Ya— someone of higher standing emailed you something that didn’t sit right with you. Even the appearance of your amazing and rambunctious husband didn’t seem to deter you from your mission.
Satoru pouted, huffing as he peacefully placed Rie down (the girl now more interested in the TV returning to her show), and crept closer to you. Still, you did not look away.
He leaned over, his chin hooked over his shoulder as he peeked over the words you were putting out into the world. Oddly, he couldn’t read any of the screen. He tried squinting your eyes and blinking a few times— nothing. It was more reminiscent of gibberish than any Japanese he knew. None of it seemed to stay in one place and it all smashed together to create a blob.
You knew how to read and write, he knew that much. Was it something with his eyes? He doubted it. But something wasn’t—
The laptop clicked close.
“You’ve never been one to take a hint, Satoru,” you turned your head to place a soft kiss against his temple in greeting. He could feel your tiny smile against his skin. The warmth of your lips. The coolness of your silvia left behind. His chest ached. He missed— missed? “Although, I knew that before I married you.”
He pushed away the mud in his mind and turned his head, placing a peck against your lips. Strawberries. You always had remnants of strawberries on your lips. Rie’s favorite fruit.
“I think it’s one of my many charming qualities.” He hummed.
You rolled your eyes, but placed a chaste kiss against his lips once again. “Charming is pushing it.” You patted his cheek. “It’s definitely an interesting characteristic.”
Satoru pouted. “You make it sound so unappealing.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
He snorted in response, standing to his full height and peeking at you from over his nose. “You know, you’re not innocent either. Thought you said the TV would rot her brain, now you’re putting it on to keep her distracted?” He spared a glance to where Rie was hanging off the couch, upside down, her eyes glued to the television.
You shot him an incredulous look. “Because she’s your daughter and has the self restraint of a puppy. I needed a hour to get some things done.” You pat the top of your laptop. “Sue me.”
Satoru smirked. “I just might for emotional damages.” He gestured towards the laptop with a vague hand. “What exactly had you typing up a storm?”
There was a brief wave of giddiness in his chest when he saw the look in your eyes darken. Passion. Anger. Protectiveness. There were so many things he loved about you. Adored you for. Made him sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it.
“Well, I got an email from —— about some work in Shibuya, but I told him I already checked it out and suffered for it. Well, guess what he said? ——— and ———— suffered too so I can’t complain much. Set me off a bit, had to give him a piece of my mind and remind him what happened.”
Satoru wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or he was just too awestruck by your beauty; but he swore that your voice simply stopped whenever you spoke names. As if your voice box couldn’t get it out. But you carried on like it was nothing. Your lips had even formed around the words that so desperately wanted to be out there, but were never uttered. You didn’t look panicked or disturbed. If anything, you looked normal. Just sipping from your capri sun that was definitely forced on you by Rie.
It was like he was the only one not hearing it.
It vaguely concerned him, but he was also Gojo Satoru. Sometimes weird things happened that had no explanation.
“But,” you continued once you swallowed down the fruit punch liquid with a twisted face. “I suppose I can’t really blame anyone for what happened. It was Halloween, we were all caught off guard. Some of us suffered for it more than others.”
Satoru, for the life of him, couldn’t recall what happened on Halloween. But he should. He had that overwhelming feeling that he really, really should.
Either way, he gave a nonchalant shrug, “Eh, my motto is that it’s always easier to forgive and forget.” He snatched the remainder of your capri sun and gave a loud slurp.
You grin, resting your chin on your cupped fingers. “I suppose so.” You eyed him warmly, then nodded to the chair next to you. Always warm. Always welcoming. “Now, what did you get up to today?”
Satoru groaned, flopping onto the seat with a creak. He placed the capri sun down to place his hands against his face. “Two specials grades in Iwate, one grade one in Kagawa, then three nasty things leeching off on the playground on the way home.” He knew he should feel exhausted. He usually did. But that day, this day, he did not. If anything, he felt well rested.
Odd.
You hum softly. “They’re overworking you, Satoru,” your tone is barely there. Your words could be missed if the house had any movement or loud noises. But it was just you and him. The soft background noises of your daughter. Always you and him. “They should recognize that you’re just a man. One day it’ll be too much. One day you’ll snap in half.”
Satoru frowned, finding the sudden shift in tone a little unsettling. “I’m the strongest, no need to worry.” He waved a passive hand in the air between you.
“I’ll always worry. It’s been my job to worry.” Your eyes moved towards Rie almost melancholic. “She’ll worry too, you know. She does worry. More than she should at 10.”
Satoru frowned deeper. “Eh…?” He blinked slowly, eyes sliding to Rie with confusion. 10? Was he crazy? Blind? Since when was the little girl sitting on the couch 10? Last he checked, she was six. It was 2012. Were you losing it on him? Was this your subtle way of telling him you’re spiraling again? “Baby, she is not—“
“I know you worry too. Think you’ve been worried about losing since the moment you got home.”
Losing? He’s never lost. Well, except those few times. But they didn’t count. Those were intentional loses.
Satoru was beginning to feel as though you both were having two different conversations. “Y/N, I’m not following.” He stated softly, eyebrows furrowed.
“What do you have to do tomorrow, Satoru?” You breezed through as if you knew where that was going. A pensive expression on your face now.
Again, he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Tomorrow? I…Well, I’m going to Shinjuku to… to…” To…what…? What was it he had to do? He could feel it deep in his chest. That ache. That unfamiliar emptiness that made him rub over his heart softly. There was something he was missing.
“Tomorrow’s going to be romantic,” You said wistfully, eyes distant as you sighed. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”
December 24th.
December 24th. So I don’t have to remember two different dates.
How romantic.
Satoru felt his gut churn. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t explain it but everything felt so tight now.
“I’m not.. I don’t…?”
Why couldn’t he get words out. Why did he stare at you like that? Unmoving, unblinking? Why did his eyes collect with tears.
Why did you look so sad?
You reached out, taking his hand. It’s cold. It feels cold. Not like the usual warmth that envelopes him whenever you held him. Whenever you reached out from him.
You’re cold.
You take his hand. “Satoru, what’s happening tomorrow?”
Seriously, what is with you?
Satoru clenched his jaw. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure why but he felt so unnerved. He felt like he’s been disillusioned. As if his world was crumbling. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.
You’re cold.
You looked briefly disappointed in his response. “You’re not well. You’re trying to appear to be, but you’re not. She worries. She’s so worried. And you know it.” Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Your cold thumb gently stroked against his bone, against the tears that were flowing— why was he crying?
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He didn’t feel tired. “I just need a nap.” He didn’t feel tired.
“Oh, Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you uttered it, barely audible. But it was enough to conjure up an earth shattering sob from his chest. A heartbroken tremble under your touch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”
“You’re right here?” Confusion was clear in his tone and his expression as he stared back at you.
You just smiled sadly in response.
He shook his head. “You’re right here.” He prided a finger against your chest. Firm. But cold.
You tilted your head and blinked slowly at him.
Satoru wasn’t sure why, but he took in as deep breath. Like he couldn’t quite catch it in the first place.
“You didn’t— You’re right here!” He desperately clutched onto your hand, pressing your skin against his own. “You’re right here. This-This is real. This-This is you. Please. Please, this is you.”
You only stared sadly in response.
Satoru wasn’t sure what was happening. Why he was so panicked or why he felt so terribly sad— but he knew it was making him quiver and sob. Why? Why? Why did this all have to happen to you? Of all people had you been the one to suffer?
What suffering?
“I…” He felt breathless. Feather light. He felt like he had no control of his lips or his tongue. “Tomorrow I fight… Sukuna…?”
Sukuna? Since when? When did—
“Since before Shibuya. Since before Itadori Yuji.” You answered his thoughts.
Itadori Yuji. Satoru thought that name sounded familiar. A blank face appeared in his mind, the back of a pink hair head facing him. Itadori Yuji.
He felt like he was living someone else’s life. As if he were placed in some point in space where nothing bad could touch it.
But these feelings, these tears, this ache in his chest wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t safe from the darkness of the world.
“Nanami… Yaga… Nobara…” You uttered the names that made his ears ring. That made his muscles tense and his heart sputter to a catastrophic halt. “But still you dream of Suguru…. of me…. of the lives you desperately want to hold on to.”
Suguru… you…
Satoru’s lips quivered.
Suguru… you….
“Why?” You asked the million dollar question.
Breathless whispers against sweat slick skin. Endless touches of tense muscle. Hair hanging and tickling. Eyes sure and hardened with undoubted honesty.
Why? Satoru thought that question was dumb. Why would the earth dream to reach out for the moon and the sun?
He stared at you, big blue eyes glittering with shimmering tears. “I’m the strongest… I should’ve saved the ones I loved… I should’ve… I’m the strongest.”
To be whole. To be loved. To love.
You sigh softly. Sadly. “Satoru, you can’t save everyone.”
“But I could.”
“Obviously not.”
The words were final. Absolute. No doubt. And he supposed, a deep part of him knew, you were right.
But that other part of himself. The one that hated himself for what happened, for whatever happened, convinced him otherwise.
“You don’t—“
“Get it?” You raised an eyebrow at his blink. “I’m your subconscious. I’m your deepest, most personal thoughts. I get it.”
Satoru stared in return. “…huh?”
You pressed your lips together. “Satoru, you’re the strongest. But you don’t always have to be.” You whispered if. A nefarious secret between the both of you that couldn’t be touched. That couldn’t be shared outside of this setting. You scoot closer in your chair. You’re slotted between his legs. “There’ll come a time where you need to step back. To rest. And let those you’ve guided this far to do their jobs.”
Resting. Stepping back.
No one had ever spoken those words to him before. It was never a guarantee nor was it ever a possibility. He feared, even now, he couldn’t even dream about something like that.
Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?
Years later, Satoru didn’t know what to make of his words. But Suguru had always known him better, he supposed.
Distracted, he didn’t realize you had started to card your fingers through his hair, bringing his head against your shoulder. It was a blissful moment when he came to his senses. When he felt your fingers ghost his scalp. When he felt your lips brush against his temple.
“You should take a nap, you look tired.”
The moment the words left your lips, his eyes felt heavy and he felt exhausted. He hadn’t felt tired before. He would love to sleep. But…
“What about you?” He whispered, eyes unmoving from your face. He studied the bow of your lips. The softness and warmth of your eyes. The faint blush across your cheeks. The little wrinkles on your forehead. “If I close my eyes, you’ll be gone.”
“No,” you shook your head and placed your free hand against his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be here.”
How cliche. He wanted to say. But he would take it. He’d take and savor any moment with you.
He took in a shuddering breath. “I love you.”
“I love you.” No hesitation. No doubt. How could this be a dream? Something of his own mind? He nuzzled into your neck with a small sigh. “Take care of her.”
Take care of her.
Take care of her.
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Satoru woke with a soft gasp.
He was not happy or surprised to find the ceiling of his dark room instead of the dining room.
The clock next to his bed illuminated 2AM in angry red outline. He’d been asleep for approximately 4 hours. And dreamt of you. Again.
His jaw clenched as he tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill over. You, angelic, in your rightful place typing away. That’s what you should be doing.
Instead, you were one of the first to die in Shibuya.
It’d been you, then Nanami, then Nobara, then whoever else.
She got caught up with Noritoshi in the tunnels, that Death Womb Painting kid tried to explain to Satoru when everyone else had been too distraught and nervous to reveal it themselves. She didn’t suffer.
It didn’t bring him comfort. Satoru was pretty sure it was a lie, but it still brought him no comfort.
It gave him all the more reason to make Kenjaku suffer.
December 24th.
Today was the day.
Almost two months since your death. Christmas Eve.
Satoru was pretty sure he was about to do the same. Embrace death for the sake of others.
He could look around, tell all of them that he’d win, but there was that growing inkling that this was mounting up against him. That Sukuna— Megumi— knew exactly what to do to get one up on him. He feared the unknown. The possibility this was it.
What would you say?
“Dad?”
Satoru’s eyes dragged from the ceiling and to the spot next to him.
Now 10, Rie was older and less rambunctious. But he blamed that partly on your death and his sudden sealing.
She had clung to him since he returned. Tears streaming down her face as she hugged him, begged him to never go again— she thought she’d lost him just like mama. (It’d been six years since he heard her call you mama.) And she slept in his bed. Said she couldn’t sleep otherwise. She’d curl up against him and he’d run his hands through her hair as he hummed a long forgotten lullaby to guide her to sleep.
Shoko said she needed this. Him.
Satoru knew she needed you.
“Rie, did I wake you?” He asked sympathetically.
“No,” surprisingly, it sounded like the truth. “I’ve been up.”
He frowned, “Why?”
There was a prolonged pause between them. A thick layer of hesitation passed and Satoru tensed up. What could she possibly be up for?
When he heard the small sniffle, his heart ached.
He sat up and drew her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed kisses against her head. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”
“I don’t want you to die!” Rie sobbed immediately. “I don’t want you to fight stupid Sukuna! I just want you to stay here with me— I can’t lose you too!”
I can’t lose you too.
Satoru pressed his lips together as tears sprung to his eyes. “Rie, I’m not going to die.” Such sure words for a man who was worried over his own mortality only moments ago. Who had to be reassured by his subconscious image of his dead wife that it’s okay to lose.
Rie shook her head frantically. “No! I heard Kusakabe say you will!” She sobbed, clutching onto his night shirt with a vice like hold.
Satoru silently cursed the man as he rubbed Rie’s back. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? What does Kusakabe know anyway, the schmuck?” His poor attempt at joking fell flat, Rie only continued to cry. With a heavy sigh, Satoru pulled back, holding her face in his hands. “What do I always say, hm? I’m the strongest. I’ll get one up on him.”
Rie stared up at him and Satoru was painfully aware of how young she was. “You promise?” She uttered.
Satoru hesitated.
If he were to promise and it didn’t actually work out, who was he? Would she resent him for the rest of her life? Would she try to forget him and spit on his memory? He’d been promised many things in life by people he looked up to and every single one had been broken. Resentment festered. Trust was broken.
What kind of father was he if he—
Take care of her. She worries.
Satoru tucked some of her hair— your hair— behind her ear. “I promise.” He whispered, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I promise.”
Rie clutched onto him once again. “I love you.”
No hesitation.
“I love you too.”
The worries of Sukuna and Kenjaku could wait until morning. Satoru had to focus on her now.
Take care of her.
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abyssruler · 6 months
Text
TROPES
ft. jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!reader
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JING YUAN - reincarnation
They say the Arbiter General of the Luofu only takes a lover every few decades, each one doomed to end in the tragedy that befalls that of a love between a short-life species and a long-life one. It’s widely speculated why the famed general chooses to continue taking short-life species for lovers, knowing the ending that would come about such a union. Jing Yuan cares not for idle gossip, save for the fact that people spread misinformation about him taking multiple lovers, but he can hardly tell everyone that he has only had one lover throughout his centuries of life. It’s just that you always happen to die far too soon for his liking. He fears sometimes, during those first few years after your death, that you’ll never come back, that one day he’ll wake up and realize that hundreds of years have passed without you. But you never fail to appear decades later with a smile on your lips and an apology on your tongue, soothing years’ worth of worries with a few measly words. Sorry, Yuan, I’ll be sure to live longer this time.
DAN HENG - soulmates
The Imbibitor Lunae was not only tasked to bear the responsibility of being the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, he was also destined for a love that spanned beyond lifetimes. Dan Heng knows of the story between the previous incarnations of you and the Imbibitor Lunae. Reincarnating at the same time, falling in love, and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle that Dan Heng had been sure to end—that was, until he met you. Jing Yuan told him of your decision to forcefully reincarnate as well after Dan Feng’s crime, so it stands to reason that you shouldn’t feel anything for Dan Heng at all, what with this incarnation of yours having never met him in this lifetime. And yet, you keep looking at him with such softness, something like nostalgia in the tone of your voice as you spoke with him, that he can’t help but feel as though he, like his previous incarnations before him, can do nothing but fall into that never-ending cycle of love and being loved.
BLADE/YINGXING - time travel
Yingxing thinks you’re strange. Not in a bad way, of course, only that your mannerisms and way of conduct when it comes to him and his companions is odd. He’s caught you almost calling Dan Feng the wrong name, Dan He-something. You keep demanding Jing Yuan to spar with you for what you dubbed was a ‘rematch’, though Yingxing has no recollection of any instances of you and Jing Yuan fighting before. But it all pales in comparison to the way you act with him. You’re overly familiar, smiling and talking to him as though you’ve known him for years instead of a single month after he discovered you wounded on an alley with a broken blade. He still remembers the look of relief on your face when he crouched in front of you in concern. Blade, Kafka’s gonna kill me, this is the fiftieth sword I broke this month, was all you said before passing out. Despite the oddity of your first meeting, he found himself getting close to you, drawn in by your smile and your laugh and the tender way you looked at him. He imagined spending what remained of his life with you, but you disappeared a day before he was supposed to confess his feelings. It isn’t until many years later, when Elio is introducing the newest member of the Stellaron Hunters, that Blade connects the dots amidst his fractured memory. And it isn’t until another few years that you confirm his suspicions. Blade, you won’t believe what I just went through—or rather, when!
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bettymylove · 4 months
Note
Can you please do a Theo not fix where the reader is his best friend who he has been in love with his entire life and they are always snuggling and she is always on his lap but then she sees him with some other girl talking being flirty and gets jealous and avoids him and agrees to go on a date with someone else in front of him and he loses it and tells her he is in love with her and it ends in smut?
can I just say I love this ideaaa AAAHH!!
Something
pairing: theo nott x reader
content: read the askk<33 18+ smut
a/n: loved writing thiss
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to other people the friendship of you and theo was not what usually friends were, you had no walls up against each other, being completely transparent to each other.
it was kind of a known fact you both harbored some feelings for each other, even though it had never been said however most people keep their distance from both of you.
you were both overly touchy with each other, him always touching you in some way, whether it be a hand on your thigh in class or making you sit on his lap in the common room just so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, all of this was completely normal to you.
it was after lunch on a friday, all the students were completely free from classes and you decided to utilize this time to finish you assignments so you could enjoy the hogsmeade trip tomorrow.
however reaching the library, you heard theo's laugh, the sound you could recognize anywhere and as soon as you started to walk towards it, you stopped in your won footsteps, since his laugh wasn't the only one, there was one more accompanying him.
he was laughing with another girl.
he was touching her knee and she had her hand on his arm, they were practically lying on each other. The urge you had to finish your schoolwork died, and soon tears began to roll down your cheeks, how could he betray you like this.
theo heard your familiar footsteps and started to follow you, calling your name but you gave no response which was very weird, since you were always cheery to have him around.
this behaviour continued well into the next day, he was ready to go to hogsmeade with you but it seemed like you had other plans, since at breakfast when a boy from ravenclaw had asked you out on a date you had said yes, that too in front of him.
he was confused to say the least, and was looking for an answer, his hand found your forearm when you once again tried to escape.
"so you're really going on a date with him?" he asked in pure shock, not being able to recover from the fact that you had said yes.
"do you have a problem with me going?" you had asked in a snarky voice, still thinking he was behaving irrationally.
"of course, i thought we had something" his tone and face all reflected sadness and pure betrayal, "I had thought that too, until I saw you flirt with that girl in the library yesterday" you had retorted.
"I was trying to get her to do my homework for me, so I could spend more time with you" he said in a gentle voice.
"why do you even care theo that I'm going on a date it's not like we're dating" you longed for an answer, to have some official word for whatever your relationship was.
"because i love you", he said in a slightly raised voice, "it's so obvious i do, everyone knows it and you should too, i love you y/n"
he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, like you wished he would, pushing you back on the wall near you which secluded you from everyone.
his kisses started trailing downwards, he was sucking on your neck while his hands were all over your body, he soon went down on his knees, staring up at you, "let me show you how much you mean to me."
please was the only word leaving your mouth, which was soon replaced with moans as soon as his tongue touched you, swirling around, he was practically devouring you, urging you to come undone on his face.
"let it go baby, come on my face" and so you did chanting his name as if it was only thing you knew in this world.
"theo, please for merlin's sake fuck me" and he couldn't deny your pretty face unbuttoning your shirt, but still not letting it fall he started leaving marks all over there as well.
you had unbuckled his belt and soon got his cock out, it was red at the tip leaking some precum and you couldn't help but move your hands up and down on it.
he had soon took both your hands and pinned them above your head, urging you to jump and as soon as you did, he had his dick inside of you.
he was thrusting so hard and so fast that you could see stars already, moaning his name while he was still kissing your neck, it was all you could have imagined.
"theo, I'm gonna come" you had managed to say between gaspy breaths, and he had urged you to do so, since he was on the verge itself.
he had finished inside you filling you up to the brim, and you felt content with him.
"so, I hope you're gonna cancel the date" he said and you only laughed in response.
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vivwritesfics · 6 months
Text
Pastry
Boyf Oscar moments
1.3K
I need moots
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"Oscar Pastry!" She sang as she skipped towards the McLaren garage.
The Australian in question glared at her, but it was a good thing his glare made him look like an angry puppy.
"That's not my name," he said as she came closer.
Y/N thought for a minute. "No, no. I think it is," she answered and looked around the garage for his teammate. "Lando! This is Oscar Pastry, right?"
"Definitely Oscar Pastry!" Lando shouted back.
"That's settles it then, Oscar Pastry."
Oscar may have been glaring, but he skill kissed her. "Wish me luck today," he said, placing his hands on her hips while Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Good luck, Pastry," she whispered and placed her head against his chest.
Oscar kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms more securely around her.
Pastry, because that was what Y/N thought his name was when they'd first met. She'd soon learnt it was Piastri, but by then it was too late and the name had stuck. Even before they were dating, she still called him Oscar Pastry.
It was his name in her phone when they were innocently flirting over text. When the flirting was no longer innocent, his name was still Oscar Pastry.
When Oscar had asked Y/N to be his, she'd answered with "Of course, Oscar Pastry."
Now, a year on from that everything was different. Oscar was no longer in F2 and a lot more of his life was in the limelight. But he was still Y/Ns Oscar Pastry.
***
2023 was Oscars rookie season. But he was amazing. Y/N always came away from each race filled with pride. Oscar could have DNFed or finished each race last and she still would have been filled with pride.
"Pastry!" Y/N shouted as he got out of the car. He wasted no time in taking her into his arms and spinning her around. His helmet was still on his head, so Y/N had no choice but to kiss it, to kiss where his mouth should have been.
He let her go, pulled off his helmet and gave her a real kiss. One that had the lads in the McLaren garage clapping their hands and turning away to give them a little bit of privacy.
After that Oscar was off to do what he needed to do after the race. Y/N waited for him in his driver's room. She played on her phone, scrolling through social media to see pictures of the race already up on her Instagram.
The Oscar fans were her favourite. There were some familiar faces on her feed, fans that had been there since his F2 days and had moved up into F1 with them.
There were several pictures of Oscars McLaren driving around the track. There were quick videos of him overtaking other drivers and pictures of his jumping out of his car.
And then Y/N got to the F1 news sites. Ever since Oscars F1 debut, the news sites run by the male F1 fans had been overly critical of her specifically. So, Y/N tended to avoid them. She stuck to the accounts that loved her and Oscar together, the accounts that didn't tear her down just because she was with Oscar.
The wag accounts had posted updates from the race, the most recent of which being the picture of her kissing Oscars helmet. And then it was the pictures of her actually kissing Oscar. Him all sweaty and disheveled from the race, her radiating pure joy.
***
Y/N couldn't go to every race. As much as she tried, she couldn't make it to every single one. She had work and school to attend.
So, when she couldn't make it to a race, Oscar was very understanding. They called and texted as much as they possibly could. Even if she had to watch the race through her tv screen, she still watched the race.
Studying and working was a tiring business. Sunday evening, after the race, Y/N was exhausted. With preparing to write her thesis, she only managed to half watch the race. It was mainly her listening out for Oscars name and number as she typed away at her laptop.
Oscar was due home that night. To the some they shared.
Y/N tried her very best to stay awake as she waited for him, she really did. Maybe her first mistake was climbing into bed. Maybe her first mistake was getting under the blankets and letting the warmth cocoon her.
The same thing probably would have happened if she had stayed sitting on the couch. At least in her bed she was comfortable and unlikely to hurt her back like she would on the couch.
When Oscar got in, the lights and the television were still on. It was kind of worrying, actually, seeing all the lights on and no sign of his girlfriend. "Y/N?" He called, looking around into their kitchen. "Y/N?"
Oscar went around, checking every single room. And then he got to their bedroom.
Slowly, Oscar pushed open the door. It didn't stop the door from squeaking as he opened it. He put his head around the door and looked in.
There she was, sleeping peacefully in their bed. In way of pyjamas she had on an orange McLaren hoodie.
Oscar tried his best to be quiet. He tried to move around the room silently, tried to be light-footed, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Every time the floorboards creaked under his feet, he turned back to his girlfriend, to make sure she was still asleep.
As Oscar got dressed, Y/N stirred. She rolled towards him, her eyes fluttering open. "Pastry?" She called, her voice croaking.
Suddenly she was sat up, rolling out of bed and stumbling towards him. "Oh my god, Pastry. You're back," she said and wrapped her arms around him.
Oscar had to hold her steady as they hugged. "I missed you too, baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. He walked her back over to the bed and sat her down.
"Love you, Oscar Pastry," she whispered and promptly went back to sleep, wrapped in his embrace.
***
"This is paradise," said Y/N as she stretched out on her sun lounger. The sun was shining, palm trees providing the only shade for miles.
The pool in front of her was crystal clear. In said pool was her boyfriend, swimming from one side to the other with an inflatable dolphin. Y/N watched him through her sunglasses, a McLaren hat on her head.
Summer break was something Y/N took very seriously. Her studies were finally done and Oscar was finally on summer break from the season.
Of course, Oscar had to take his girl on holiday. They flew to the Caribbean, to a private villa they'd rented for the next week and a half. From there it was sun, sand, blue skies and crystal clear water.
Getting out of the pool, Oscar threw himself down onto the sunbed beside Y/N. "Happy?" He asked, reaching out and placing his hand on her knee.
His fingers were cold, but it was welcome under the Caribbean sun. Y/N placed her hand on top of his and nodded her head. "This is amazing, Oscar Pastry," she said, turning towards him.
Oscar had this way of smiling. It made Y/N's heart beat fast and the blood rush to her cheeks. "I love you," she said, reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. "My Oscar Pastry."
"Your Oscar Pastry."
The trip was commemorated with a post on Y/N's Instagram.
y/nusername:
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liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiatri and 238,557 others
ynusername Oscar 🥐
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arthenaa · 3 months
Text
UN Village — roommate!mizu x f!reader
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synopsis: a glimpse into the life after being 'just' roommates.
content: 18+, nsfw, gay ass sex, gay ass losers, gay gay gay, short domestic glimpses of your life with mizu as your gf slash roommate slash best friend and your cat named nora. can be read as a one shot, you and mizu call each other bon/bonnie as an endearment, she/her pronouns for both reader and mizu.
author's note: this is a compilation of the requests I received from my inbox! namely the ones requesting hcs plus nsfw parts. (to that one anon with a specific request for the nsfw part, know that ill be going along with some of your ideas! will be tweaking it a bit <3) i also have a hc that mizu is well off ... both bc of her father's hard work and that she also has a stable job despite still being in university. anys, enjoy!
parts: blurred lines, mizu as your roommate
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Life as a couple wasn't all that different—a realization you've reached after observing your first few months with Mizu together. Aside from the access to overly exaggerated kisses and must-have energy-charging hugs, things were the same as they were before.
Grocery shopping on Saturdays is still a rotational thing, you cook, she cleans—sometimes when both of you feel a little too lazy to cook dinner, take-outs from that diner near 2nd Street are a must. She walks you to class, drives you to wherever you want, and you buy her her favorite tea as a reward for working hard.
If anything, your domestic rituals have been quite rewarding whenever you've come to the realization that yes, Mizu is yours and that you don't have to deal with all the angsty shit that came with having that realization. Everything was a breeze.
Speaking of working hard, Mizu had been quite busy as of late. Always unintentionally locking herself up in her room or getting home late some days. You knew her schedule well enough that this wasn't a result of her academics but of her work. You never knew how Mizu could balance her work and academic life so well but you suppose that's part of what makes her so ... Mizu.
You could see the exhaustion from the way she touches her temple more often or the bouncing of her knee whenever you two plan on working on requirements at the library (the librarian had been lenient with her judgment after the two of you gave her 'sorry' cookies the other day, it was quite funny). You knew that Mizu was getting overwhelmed with whatever she was dealing with at work.
So, as the loving girlfriend that you are, you wanted to give her a time to rest and motivation to overcome whatever block that's hindering her creativity and process in completing her work.
You make careful footsteps towards her room—shushing Nora who mews softly at your feet. You balance the tray to one arm as the other gently reaches to twist the doorknob. The hinges on the wooden door squeak as you push it open, revealing your girlfriend hunched over her desktop. Her room is as simple as it can be, white walls adorned with a few of her framed pictures—some were posters of her favorite bands and films while the others were collages of her favorite moments, captured by a camera she had bought on her first paycheck. You see the infamous cactus you gifted her on her birthday perched on top of her shelves alongside a few books and comics that she collected over the years. The minimalistic feel of her room does bring a calming effect whenever you enter her space (which is why more often than not, sleepovers are in her room than yours). Your attempts to not disturb her work continue due to the noise-canceling headphones pulled over her head. You see Mizu pinch the bridge of her nose, her glasses nudged up before she adjusts them back on her face. Your eyes soften at the view.
Gently placing the tray on her dresser, you make careful steps towards her hunched figure before moving to wrap your arms around her shoulders. She tenses for a moment but at the whiff of your familiar scent, she immediately melts in your touch. You pull away slightly as she pulls her headphones off, placing it on the table before going back to your previous position.
"Hey," You softly murmur, cheek pressed to her temple. She hums at your voice, eyes still trained on her tablet perched on a stand. "How are you doing?"
Mizu twirls her digital pen in her hand—the stiff length of her pen gliding smoothly along her fingers. She nudges your head to acknowledge your presence. "Fine," She says.
You knew Mizu tends to downplay her feelings a lot. It was a common problem you both encountered throughout both your friendship and relationship. She tends to be more service-giving and prioritizes your welfare over her own. While you truly appreciate her attentiveness to your well-being, it does bring concern whenever she says things that don't really resonate with how she looks and feels. You've since learned to grow atoned to her body language—knowing at a glance at her mannerisms and communicating more definitely helps a lot in the long run.
You place a kiss on her temple, hugging her tight as she focuses back on her task. You decide not to push too much on it. "Did you get assigned new work?"
Mizu hums, nodding slightly as she makes quick notes on her tablet. "Yeah. They needed a lot of manpower on this one."
Your arms move back to grab her shoulders, thumbs making circular motions on the area available to you. Mizu sighs at the feeling. "So it's a big project, huh?"
Mizu nods once more before pausing. There's a slight reprieve as you continue to ease the tense muscles on her shoulders. She then turns slightly, eyes looking up at you both in curiosity and gratefulness. "What's up with you?"
You smile down at her, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips before turning towards the tray of her favorite food on her dresser. "Got you some food and your favorite tea."
Mizu lightens up at your words, turning in her office chair and pulling you between her legs. She buries her face on your stomach, hands on your hips. "Thank you, Bonnie."
Her words pull a flush from your cheeks—still getting butterflies from her attention. You gently pat the top of her head, making sure not to stress the already messy bun haphazardly tied on a whim. A few strands of her hair escape the hairdo with each gentle slide of your palm on her head. You let out a grumble, hands making their way to pull the tie off her hair. Mizu chuckles at your movements.
"Was I too quiet?" Mizu asks as she feels your hands run through her hair—gathering all the strands with careful swoops. You hum at her response.
"Not really," You respond as you twist her hair in its usual style before beginning to tie it off with her hair tie. "Why?"
Mizu blinks softly, enjoying your ministrations on her head. She yawns. "I don't know. Just worried that I might've been ignoring you or something."
You pause at the last twist of her tie, gently pulling away to take a look at her face. The exhaustion is evident—bags under her eyes, eyes blinking slow, and the slouch on her posture. However, despite it all, her eyes and face remain softened and loving at the sight of you. A soft smile pulls from your lips.
"You haven't," Your hands gently cup her face as you angled it up towards you. "You don't have to worry about a thing, Mizu. Whatever you need, I'll be right here."
She gazes into your eyes, processing your heartfelt words before a genuine smile bursts from her lips. Your heart thunders at its brightness and you can't help but return its intensity.
"I love you." She murmurs, eyes filled with gratitude. You revel in its warmth.
"I love you too."
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"Mizu?" You call out to the empty living room, not noticing the familiar raven-haired girl typically lounging in the living space around this time. You knew because Mizu often tends to do her leisure time in the living room where it has an open space and just an overall change of pace in the morning. You had gone out to do the groceries as Mizu did hers last week. You half expected her to be at the same spot when you returned but didn't overthink it. She was probably back at her room or fixing up that clog in the bathroom. You placed your shoes on the side before walking towards the kitchen to drop the grocery bags.
You begin to place the items in their respective places before realizing another equation to the problem. Nora was also nowhere to be found. Your heart speeds up,
"Nora? Mizu?" You call out, placing the bag of fruits down to find you two missing culprits. "Where are you?"
While Mizu was a generally quiet person and Nora being stealthy like a damn mosquito, they often wandered to your presence and so you expected that your girlfriend would call back and Nora's feet would begin to pitter patter its way towards you. There were only a few other options that you could consider where those two disappeared to. First, Mizu must have taken her out for a walk. Nora tends to be restless in the morning and prefers going out when the sun is high and the temperature is just right. Second, probably in Mizu's bedroom—those two tend to nap when you're not in sight, probably because most of the time their energy is just you with 5% of their actual energy. You decide to go with the second option for now.
You make careful steps towards Mizu's room, knocking on the wooden surface before opening the door. The lights are off and the room's spotless. Mizu must be out. You turn towards your room just in case. You're greeted with the bed you made this morning. You scratch your head in thought, confused as to where those two might have gone.
Just as you begin to worry, the sound of the door's security system unlocking through the keypad resounds through the hallway. You make your way towards the living space to see Mizu with an armful of carboard boxes and Nora trailing behind her. They both pause at the sight of you.
"Oh," Mizu blinks at you as if she had been caught sticking her hand somewhere she shouldn't have. You blink back in response. "You're home."
Nora meows in response to your rather unexpected predicament. Your eyes dart from Mizu, to Nora, to the boxes in Mizu's arms.
"... What's that?" You watch as Mizu gently places the items down with a sigh before turning towards you with a sheepish smile.
"I got Nora a tower," She responds hesitantly, gauging your reaction to her response. There's a few moments of silence as you process the information.
You remain speechless. If anything, you were the one who mostly spoils Nora. Having too much similarities to your grumpy looking girlfriend, you couldn't help but coddle the kitty. Mizu on the other hand tends to bond with cat through silent stares or squinting at each other as if they have their own form of communication. It's safe to say that you're quite amused at the fact that Mizu was the one who brought her
A laugh escapes your lips at the thought, watching as Mizu furrows her eyebrows in confusion while Nora simply meows beside her.
"How did you even—" You cover your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself down from the impending laughter. "When did you even get this?"
Mizu rolls her eyes. "I got it last week. When you had class—" She pauses at the sound of your laughter. "Why is this so funny to you?"
You grin at her grumpy attitude. "I just didn't expect that you'll be the one getting her the tower. I thought you settled for the treats?"
Mizu snorts as she settles down on the carpeted floor, pulling one of the smaller boxes towards her. "Since when was I limited to that?"
You grin excitedly, rushing over to her side with ease. Mizu chuckles at your enthusiasm. You place a kiss on her cheek causing your girlfriend to pause and turn her attention towards you.
"That's so hot of you, Bonnie," You coo, utterly enamored by her. Mizu's soften, the corner of her lips upturned.
There's a softened tension between the two of you as Mizu's eyes roam all over your face. There's a mischievous look on her face. "All it takes for me to get between your legs is a cat tower, really?"
You grin wide at her words. You decide to tease back. "Can you blame me? That's wife material right there."
Mizu drops the box on the floor before finally turning her body to you with an eyebrow upturned. "So you're saying you'll marry me over a cat tower?"
You shrug. "I mean, you, breathing is enough—"
You squeal as you feel the sudden rise of your body from the ground. Mizu sweeps you into her arms, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other gripping your thigh. You flush in her hold as you wrap your legs around her waist.
You squirm in her hold. "Mizu, I didn't say now!"
The raven haired woman pays no attention to your whims as she steps over the boxes and begins to make her way towards her room. "We can do that later." She hums, carrying you with ease.
You turn towards Nora who stares up at both of her parents, innocently licking her paw. "N-Nora!" You whine over Mizu's back. "Nora, help mommy!"
The cat only stretches—letting a loud meow before it jumps on the couch and curls into a ball. You whine at the lack of attentiveness to your apparent danger as your girlfriend chuckles at your try of escaping.
"The cat won't help you, y'know?"
"Mizu!"
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"What about this?" Your eyes lock with your girlfriend through the mirror as you fix the front of your dress. Akemi's birthday is just around the corner and plans of going out had been arranged and planned out. The birthday gal had wanted to celebrate her night at a club and your wardrobe lacked the proper attire for an occassion like that. So you went shopping.
The thing is, Mizu had always been your outfit decision-maker. You didn't think much of it before when her gaze landed on yours whenever you showed her an array of outfits for whatever occasion. Now, you feel her stare more intensely as if a knife had delicately touched its tip against your skin and marked its way down with a gentle grip—not enough to harm but enough to entice a reaction.
The dress you chose was satin with a color of your choice—backless and hung around your curves nicely. You subtly turn your body as you admire its simplistic design. Mizu hums from her position on the bed, laying on her side with her elbow propped up to support her weight. You see her tilt her head, eyes taking their sweet time to analyze your figure.
"Bon?" You ask as you turn towards her. Her eyes are half-lidded and you can sense from a mile away the familiar look on her face but you remain ignorant of the tension brewing between you. You choose to turn back towards the mirror, fixing your hair as you adjust the straps. "I don't know if it's fit for a nightclub or an evening dine."
You hear Mizu hum. Just then, you hear shifting on the bed before sock-cladded feet pad through the wooden floors. You see Mizu's figure behind you in the mirror—the subtle size difference of her broad shoulders compared to you heats your cheeks. Her arms make their way around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest as she props her chin on your shoulder. Your eyes lock on the reflection in the mirror as you take careful notes of her appearance. Hair pulled in a half bun, blue eyes devoid of their usual black-rimmed glasses, figure clad in black with a familiar gold chained necklace wrapped loosely around her neck, and her wrist adorned by a silver watch you gifted her on her birthday last year. You heave a breath at the intensity of her stare.
"You look pretty," She mumbles, eyes lost in your figure before placing a soft kiss on your neck. A shiver runs through your spine at her affection, feeling it take course through the expanse of your shoulder. It's slow and soft—making sure each scar and imperfection is not left untouched. You squirm in her arms.
"Mizu," You hum, voice deep and sultry as you lean your head back, allowing her more space to work with. "You're not working with me."
The raven haired gal laughs against your skin as she continues with her ministrations. You feel her hands rumple the fabric, clutching the soft satin material as it bunches up between her fingers. The hem rises up to your thighs, granting your lover a sweet view of home.
"What?" She asks with a teasing tone. You grumble at her mischievous nature. "I was just answering your question."
"I asked if it fit—" You moan slightly as she sucks on the familiar spot behind your ear. "N-not if I was hot. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Her breath hits your ear with a slight deep chuckle of her voice. You feel her trail her kisses towards the nape of your neck, hands beginning to caress your thighs. You watch as the hem of your dress practically rise up to the top of your thighs, granting no sense of decency. You whine as you feel her kiss down your shoulder blades, tongue licking out to mouth at the valley between your shoulders.
"You're so unfair," You breathe out, back arching as she slides her hands to your hips, pulling you back against hers. She smiles, nudging your head to the side as she buries hers against your neck. Your eyes meet at the reflection, gauging each other's response. You would've thought that her ministrations would end then and there but you shouldn't have underestimated your girlfriend. After all, it's always the quiet ones.
Mizu boldly cups your cunt over your dress—a moan escaping your lips. She pulls you flush against her as she nips against the tip of your ears. You remain pinned against her chest, her arm strength keeping you close.
"You fucker," You pant, mouth opening up to a grin as you gripped her arm. She merely gives a you a smirk as she hikes her hand up, grinding her palm against you. Your knees falter.
"I give you my opinion and you curse me out?" Mizu laughs against your ear, placing a peck on your cheek. "Not cute, babe."
"God, you're so annoying," You sigh, hand reaching out to bury itself in Mizu's raven locks. Your girlfriend merely hums, eyes watching you get lost in the pleasure of her fingers. It's as if the fuse in Mizu's head had began to run out of course, she then pulls away from your back and turns you towards her with ease.
You flush as she manhandles you in her arms, pulling you up to wrap your legs around her waist. You grasp at her shoulders at the sudden movement. She pauses, eyes calculating as she eyes you up like a predator waiting for its prey to back down, and knowing you, you'd never back down just like that.
You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning close to brush your lips against hers. "Gonna pull this dress off me or what?" You hum, nose brushing against hers. "If you're too busy eyeing me up instead of fucking me, I got a pretty handy vibrator back in my cabinet."
She chuckles at your boldness, jaw clenching at your words. "You're a fucking brat, y'know that?"
You giggle as she moves you towards the bed. "Gets you every time."
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"Why are you limping like that?" Ringo asks you one day as you met up with him and Akemi for class. Thank the Gods that Ringo is naturally innocent like that. It saves you the embarrassment of having to tell two people what Mizu did to you in the morning. Akemi, however, merely raises an eyebrow at you—shaking her head like a disappointed mother. You had underestimated the time it took to get ready, and Mizu in bed wasn't exactly a good component in your determination to focus in the morning. Add the fact that your horny and Mizu is feeling quite energetic at 7 am.
"When I said that I'm happy for you, I was hoping that you'd get to keep the private matters of your relationship finally to a minimum and not for the whole world to see," Akemi deadpans. Ringo looks at her with furrowed eyebrows. "It's quite contradicting but you get my point."
You give her a sheepish smile at her words while Akemi merely sips on her iced coffee. Ringo turns to you with a smile, his hand forming a thumbs up. "Ignore her, I am happy for you."
Akemi grumbles, shifting her leg over her knee. "Can we not talk about this right now? We're about to have an exam."
You and Ringo share a playful look at Akemi's quips, not wanting to be at the receiving end of Akemi's fury. The classroom was slowly filling in with students—all having the same look of despair and exhaustion for the test in a few minutes. You turn towards your bag, hand rummaging through the array of essentials carefully packed from the night before. Your eyebrows furrow as you can't feel the familiar material of your pen case.
"Oh fuck," You murmur, tone panicking as you peered inside your bag. Ringo and Akemi glance at you in concern.
"What?" Ringo asks, ever the concerned hubby that he is. You let a shaky breath as you can't see the familiar cat patterned pen case that Mizu gifted to you last year. Your essentials for the test were in there! While a pen might've been easy to borrow, the other materials were definitely something you couldn't get away with. You turn to Akemi and Ringo with a frown.
"I think I left my pen case at the dorm." You huff in frustration, glancing at the front to check the time. "I can't go back, there's not enough time."
Akemi sighs, head nudging to your phone. "Check with your girlfriend. She might be nearby."
Your shoulders lower in hesitance. "It's class hours. Don't you think I'll be a bother?"
Ringo chuckles quietly in his seat. "You think Mizu would care about that?"
Akemi snorts before propping her arm on the table to place her chin on her palm. "What he said."
You sigh, contemplating your options before finally giving in.
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You put your phone down on the surface of your table, cheeks heating up from the conversation. 15 minutes pass with ease and you're left twiddling your thumbs as you glance back and forth from the door to the clock in front.
Just as she said, Mizu appears at the small window of the door, hand waving awkwardly as she raises your pen case. You immediately stand up from your seat, earning curious glances from Akemi and Ringo. You pay them no mind as you shuffle your way to the door, gently opening it to not draw attention before closing it with a soft push behind you.
"Hey," Mizu's deep voice infiltrates your senses as you turn towards her. You immediately take note of her outfit—dark blue rayon skipper collared blouse with sleeves that reached her arms halfway, pale brown slacks cuffed to her ankles, and a pair of white sneakers. Her hair is in its usual bun with the added flare of her orange tinted glasses. You snicker.
Mizu sighs, tilting her head with a deadpan stare. "Why are you laughing?"
You glance at the empty corridor before wrapping your arms around her waist. "You look like a walking sponsor for Uniqlo."
Mizu scoffed, raising the hand grasping the pen case before gently bonking it on your forehead. "You ought to be more thankful to me, pretty."
You grin up at her, hugging her close as you prop your chin on her sternum. You squint your eyes, giving her your most mischievous look. "I'll be sure to put that on my new year's list."
Mizu rolls her eyes, pushing you gently off her before jokingly slamming your pen case on your hand. "There," She says before presenting another paper bag on your hand. "Also, here."
You glance at the paper bag then at her—those perfectly thick and plucked eyebrows arching at you as she waves the paper bag for you to take. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "What's that?"
Mizu shrugged as you peered inside to see a half filled cup of your favorite drink in a large size. You look up at Mizu who tilts her head to the side with a smile. "I got it this morning. Meant to save some for you."
You purse your lips as your heart softens at the gesture. "Mizu," You coo. The gal only leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead.
"Now go ace that test, bon," She smiles. "I'll get you after class."
She waves you goodbye before jogging towards the elevators. You sigh dreamily as she disappears into the corner before walking back inside your classroom. You maneuver your way towards your desk, earning a couple of side glances from Akemi and Ringo.
You sit down, giddily settling down on your seat before you hear someone clear their throat beside you.
"Homesexuals," Akemi clears her throat beside you to which Ringo snorts at. You shoot a glare at them in response.
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Mizu is generally, a patient person.
Despite her grumpy responses towards Ringo or her perpetual furrowed eyebrows, eyes squinted into a glare, and her frowned lips whenever Taigen enters the scene, Mizu still is a patient person. You've rarely seen her angry and when she does become angry, it often comes out in seething silence. Eyes that bore into the depths of your soul, face hardened enough to not show any emotion, and a stance evoking authority and dominion over the situation.
You saw it once. When a guy tried to force himself on you during a campus party. It was an unfortunate event really and you didn't want things to escalate but the man didn't back down with his flirting (if you could even call it that). Let's just say that the night ended with a bruise on their face and it's definitely not Mizu.
You're well aware that your girlfriend can pack a punch and certainly knows how to use it. She's well built and has a lot of strength for someone her stature. Taigen calls it a sleeper build—a passing glance from when Mizu helped out with moving Akemi's furniture to her new condo. You definitely agree with that.
That's why you're internally panicking for the aftermath of a similar situation from Akemi's birthday nightout.
"Mizu," You pant, trying to call for her attention but the blinding force of her anger continues to drive her need for you. "Mizu—Ngh! Please listen to me—"
Mizu continues her ministrations on your neck, paying no mind to your squirming body as her hand grabs your thigh with ease—anchoring it to her waist as she slots her torso between your legs.
"Fuck," She growls against the skin of your neck, hair in disarray from the sloppy and heavy makeout session on the way to your bedroom. You vividly remember knocking a frame off your console table when Mizu slammed you against its edge. "I should've fucked him up."
You whine at the bite of her teeth on your shoulder—grasping at her shoulders. "Baby, we have to talk about this—"
Her thigh slots between your legs and hikes it up against your cunt—you mewl at the pressure. Mizu pulls away from your shoulder, licking her lips as she peers down at you with darkened shades of blue. "Talk? You want to talk?"
Her tone resounds with mockery and sarcasm, a seething remembrance of her fury from just a few hours ago. Typically, this behavior would startle you at first but you've grown to learn and love this blue-eyed woman after the years you've spent pining and being oblivious to each other's affection.
"You're not going to do this to me, Mizu," You snarl back, letting out a breathy sigh as her free hand begins to move your hips against her thigh. "You made us leave Akemi's party because of this—that's not–Hngh—t-that's not okay—Fuck!"
Mizu darkly chuckles as she begins to roam her hand underneath your dress. "You talk too much for someone who's about to get fucked."
"Shut the fuck up," You try to return the dominance but her skillful pulls and push of your hips leaves you breathless and keening at her touch. "That guy isn't even worth it, why'd you even—why?"
Mizu feels the inside of your thigh, reveling in the soft flesh as she creeps closer to your mound. "Didn't like the way he looked at you. Mothefucker had the audacity to ask for your number as if he didn't see my hand gripping your thigh. I fucking hate that."
You feel her fingers teeter over the edge of your panties—skin thumbing the material of your underwear, a surprise you wished would be unveiled in different circumstances.
Mizu kisses your pulse point, making sloppy kisses on the area as she continues to speak. "Everything's worth it if it's you."
You arch and mewl at her words, head moving back to give her more room. Mizu smiles at your reaction.
"You like that?" She chuckles deeply. "Like it when I'm being possessive, huh?"
"Oh God," You groan. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"
Mizu pulls away from your neck, brushing her nose against yours as she peers down at your irritated features. "So demanding," She smiles as she leans close and brushes her lips against yours.
Having had enough, your hand grabs her raven tresses—gripping it as you pull her down to close the distance between your mouths. It's all wet and full of passion—desperate sliding of lips against yours. She tilts her head, begging for deeper access as she slides out her tongue to feel more of you. There's a battle for dominance—a battle she's desperately winning. You pull away with a bite on her bottom lip, gently pulling it before licking your lips.
"Damn." Mizu lets out a breathless chuckle from the kiss, all the more turned on from your confident nature. You smile up at her with a grin.
"I suggest putting all that anger into something useful," You pant as you guide her hand to pull your dress up more.
You watch as she pulls the dress off, eyes widening at the lingerie set you've worn for the night. You see her hunger double at the sight.
"Fuck me up, Mizu." You mewl as you arch your back to present your body to her. Her jaw clenches at your words.
Just as you had said those words, you yelp in surprise as she pulls you down the bed—sheets ruffling in the process before pinning your legs to your chest.
"I'll fucking kill anyone who gets to see you like this," Her words are dark—an apparent shiver running through your spine at the process. You mewl at her domineering figure, watching as she marvels at the way the fabric highlights your figure.
Mizu then moves the fabric covering your cunt to the side, letting out a shaky breath at the process. She dives in without hesitance, tongue poking out to take a straight and slow lick from your hole to your clit.
"Oh!" You moan loudly, hand darting to grasp at her raven locks. "Fuck!"
She wastes no time in eating you out—licking and slurping as if this is the last meal she'll ever have. Your thighs quiver at the magnitude of pleasure she brings forth. You've never been this overwhelmed with the pleasure as you choke over your moans—grasping and clawing at the sheets or her hand gripping your thighs. You eye her arms—sleeves of her button-up hiked up to her elbows, showcasing the veins popping and rising at the harsh grip she has on your body. The sight heats you up even more.
You flush as she peers up at you from the comforts of your pussy—blue eyes clouded with lust and want as she makes precise twirls and flicks with her tongue. Goddamn her mouth feels like fucking heaven.
"You're so pretty," She mouths over your clit, teasing with a few licks before spreading it with her fingers to not let one spot untouched. You moan at her tenacity. "All mine. All fucking mine."
Just as the pleasure couldn't get any worse, Mizu rubs her index and middle over your hole before slipping it inside with ease. With all the wetness from her mouth and the slick coming from you, the penetration is done with no difficulty. She then makes a few thrusts of her fingers before flexing her digits in a come hither motion. The tips of her lengthy digits reach the familiar gummy spot within you. You yelp at the sudden spike of pleasure, thighs slightly closing.
"Right here?" She asks, breathless. You become lost in the pleasure—drunk from the high Mizu's giving you.
"Ngh! Mizu please!" You plead, unsure of what exactly you're asking. Mizu licks her lips before adjusting her hand—palm brushing over your clit. She then begins to speed up her thrusts—making an up-and-down motion on her wrist as wet noises begin to come out of your cunt.
"M-Mizu! F-Fuck—I can't—!" You scream as the tips of her fingers continuously hit that familiar spot. She pays no mind to your whims, ignoring your hands reaching out to grab her arm. It doesn't take too long before you feel an intense knot in your core, as if you're going to release something you shouldn't. With a final flick of her wrist, a ray of clear liquid squirts out of your pussy as you scream in pleasure. You twitch and shiver in her hold as she darts down to slurp up your release.
You whine and keen at the sensitivity, hands darting out to push Mizu away. She continues to lick every part of your cunt—swollen and perfectly pink from her ministriations. "M-Mizu! S-Stop—Hah—please—!"
Once satisfied, the raven-haired gal moves up with a smile. "Good girl," she praises.
You watch as she removes the rest of you and her clothes then untying her hair before adjusting your legs—raising the other as she slots between them. You whine at the sensitivity.
"I can't, please—" You sob, eyes tearing up from being oversensitive. Mizu coos at you as she grinds her cunt against yours. You flinch, hands darting down to her hips.
"Yes you can baby," She kisses your leg, holding it to her shoulder. "You can give me one more, won't you angel?"
You pant as she speeds up her thrusts, the pleasure begins to build up once more. Your first orgasm wasn't far along and so the coming of the second comes with ease. You remain listless on the sheets, eyes watching as Mizu's hips make skillful circles—cunt rubbing against yours deliciously.
"Tell me you're mine," She pants, hair gathered to her shoulder. The sweat and flush on her skin make her more ethereal. "Tell me who do you belong to, hm?"
She demands rather than asks and with the cloudiness of the high she keeps giving you, you succumb to her authority.
"I-I'm yours," You whine, hands gripping her thighs as she begins to speed up. You feel the familiar knot of your climax begin to unravel. "I'm yours."
Mizu's thrusts begin to become inconsistent and with a few more grinds and circles of her hips, you release with a loud moan as Mizu follows after.
She drops down on you with a pant, obviously exhausted from the strenuous activity. There's a moment of reprieve as you revel in the afterglow of sex.
Your laughter breaks the silence. "You should get jealous more often," You jest. "So that I can get laid like this again—Fuck that was good."
Mizu chuckles from her spot on your neck. She props herself up with her arms beside your head. "And here you were asking to talk when we both knew that's never going to happen."
You giggle at her words, arms wrapping around her waist. You then let out a sigh. "God, I love your tongue."
Mizu rolls her eyes, gently removing herself from the sweaty intertwine of limbs. You pout at the loss of her body heat. "Starting to think that you really just love me for my body, don't you?"
You raise your hands in a joking manner. "Consider me guilty."
Mizu throws a pillow towards you before rising from the bed. You admire her naked figure as she runs her fingers through her raven locks. Mizu notices your gaze.
"Keep your eyes to yourself, creep." She squints her eyes to glare. You roll your eyes in response.
"Such a hypocrite," You retort. "As if you weren't rambling about how possessive you we—AGH!"
The raven-haired girl tackles you into the bed, hands coming to tickle you to death. You both laugh and giggle at each other, reveling in the atmosphere brought forward by your chemistry.
You suppose you could never get tired of this. Not when it's Mizu.
___
There's not much change after you and Mizu finally got together but u suppose its probably the cat
Mizu has the tendency to match with your outfit. Whenever you ask her abt it, she just claims its a coincidence
When Mizu got her first camera, she took pictures of you and her together. She got the film printed. (She has a picture of you on the back of her phone and you have hers on yours)
Your go to gift for Mizu are socks and tea
Mizu is eerily similar to Nora. Sometimes you catch them pausing and staring at each other in the living room. it's quite funny.
Peers around campus are funnily giving you thumbs up and congratulatory shakes as if you getting together is a monumental achievement in history (It's bc of Taigen).
Mizu becomes all the more service-giving once you get together (she opens doors for you, pulls your chair for you to sit on, brushing a stray hair away from your face). She likes it bc u give her kisses now.
Mizu subconsciously plays with your fingers when holding hands. Though her fave part to put her hand on is your thighs. she claims that she likes the feeling.
Mizu often asks for your opinion on things whether it be for work, academics, or day to day life. Its because she regards you important and dear to her. She wants to share her life with you.
The moment you disclosed your relationship with your friends, Ringo legit pulled out a party popper
Mizu IS a walking UNIQLO sponsor (you cannot count how many rayon blouses she has in her closet. she claims its bc she likes the fabric)
You jokingly proposed to Mizu with a candy pop ring. Mizu proposed to you back with a can tab.
Mizu orders her drinks in the largest cup size bc she gives it to u after when u meet up for lunch mwehe (coincidentally its your fave drink as well)
Taigen was so confused as to why Mizu just bolted from her seat (pen case part) during their lab time together and when he asked what happened when she came back, she said, "Ah. Bonnie needed help." Taigen wants to explode.
Mizu is quite open to casual PDA. she says goodbye to u in the form of forehead kisses.
overall, you and Mizu are just so cute and so mwa mwa and i just wanna put yall in my pocket hehe
______________
A/N: HEYAAA this is finally done. not proofread so im gonna have to make edits to this tom. happy new year everyone !!! hope u like this roommate mizu! also to the ppl who saw this halfway done... no u didnt ....
507 notes · View notes
liyawritesss · 6 months
Note
YOUR EARTH 42 MILES FIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD OMFG👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 of your taking requests can you write about how prowler miles met his girl and how he rizzed her up please? Only if you want to of course and again I only read one thing by you but your writing got me hooked!!!!
ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ɪ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ
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Characters: Spiderverse!Earth-42!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader
Type: Fic
Word Count: 3.7k
Synopsis: The sequel to i really like what you’ve done to me, Miles reflects on his first encounter with you, and how he immediately made it his mission to make you his.
Warnings: Cursing….thats about it, I think
A/N: This was a long one in the making and I think I actually like my characterization of 42!miles here. I didn’t wanna make him overly edgy or overly hood or anything, and I hope that you guys will appreciate the subtlety of his personality here. Hope you all enjoy!
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream
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Miles remembers the day he first talked to you so clearly. It was almost as if it were yesterday. 
The middle of the semester had always been prime time for teachers to start assigning end of semester projects, and while Miles was lucky enough for majority of his classes to have only assigned him individual projects, there was always one class that such a fortune was never the case in. 
When the teacher was calling out pairs there was a part of Miles that dreaded who his partner would be. He hoped it wasn't a slacker - he'd had his fair share of irritation and headache from those types of students who never took their schooling seriously. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to, either, considering his uncensored brilliance already, but at least he still made an effort to look like he made an effort. Others didn't have the same sentiment.
He didn't know  most of his classmates personally, but knew the ones he needed to know by name and face; due to previous instances of being paired with them for projects in this same fashion. The fact that most of his old project partners were consistently placed in the same classes as him reinforced the begrudging familiarity that came with them. Though there were a few select people out of that circle that he'd found himself knowing of due to other circumstances - clumsiness in the halls, points of contact for school activities, etc. 
So when the teacher called Miles' name and the name of his partner, it wasn't a surprise to himself when his head turned to the side to look for them. What did surprise him, however, was when he turned to the seat next to him, only to have found it empty. 
He can't recall if he's ever seen the seat empty since he's been in this class, missing the presence of the person who he deemed to be a good student. Always on time, always exact; work turned in, always complete, and always paying attention to the lectures. Their own interactions were limited to the passing of worksheets,  exchanges of pencils and the occasional conversations of how irritating the teacher was being.
Miles wouldn't consider the shared interactions to be that one friendship - it was more akin to general acquaintanceship. Though, deciphering her character from said limited interactions, he knew that this was not in normal behavior for the girl. Eyebrows furrowed at the lack of her presence, questioning where she could have been.
Since his partner wasn't there, Miles had been left with a brainstorming worksheet to fill out on his own, but his mind was not on the project. He found himself still wondering about his partner's whereabouts. He could have sworn he'd seen her that day, walking the halls with the same two girls she'd been friends with since the school year started. While the same two girls were in class, having been paired together for the project, the missing girl wasn't. So, when the ring of the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day, Miles knew what his first course of action was to be.
"Aye, yo," his voice carries over to the two girls who'd been packing their supplies up, ready to begin their after school activities of sneaking off campus to go to the mall, "where yo' friend at?"
The first girl, with soft locs pulls into a high pony and shiny lip gloss adorning her lips, who he knew by the name of Key, scrunched her face in a grimace
 "What's it to you, boy?" She says chastely, giving him a quick once over.
"C'mon, nah," Miles presses, "y'all know she my partner for this stupid project. I'm just tryna get this shit over with, a'ight?"
The other friend answers next - one of his ex-project partners Taji - her chin resting in her hand, fingers decorated with matte brown coffin shaped nails resting against her cheek. "We ain't seen her since lunch. Said she was gon' go to her locker for sumn' but ain't never come back to the table."
Miles' brow arches, as if quizzing her answer, trying to determine the validity of it. Taji catches onto this, and shoots a similar expression back to him.
"What, you thinkin' I'm lyin' to you, nigga?"
"Are you, Taj?"
"Boy, what I got to lie to you for?"
Taji and Miles had a similar acquaintanceship to that of him and (Y/N), with the former being his partner for a project for their shared arts class in their sophomore year. She was a talented artist, not to mention the one person able to reawaken his love for art, even if it was to a small degree. 
"A'ight, whatever, y'all ain't no help."
He let out a sigh, dismissing the girls’ seemingly secretive antics with a wave of his hand, before tucking the same one in his pocket, preparing to leave the classroom. He didn’t have time to entertain the two girls before him, and believed it best to leave them be and return to his dorm room to figure out the project on his own.
“Check the rooftops,” Miles heard Taji say as half of his body begins to cross the threshold of the classroom door. It makes the boy stop in his tracks, turning his head back to see the two girls as they stand as well, gathering their belongings to leave for the day as well, “or somewhere around there.”
“The rooftops are locked, dummy,” Miles corrects, “janitors here ain’t that lazy and ignorant.”
“Oh, so you weren’t just up there a week ago?” Taji replies back, a tinge of tease in her voice, knowing she’s caught him red handed when a small bulge forms on his cheek. 
“Yeah, nigga, tighten up, cuz you lackin’.”
“Shut up, big head.”
The faint echo of snickering lingers as Miles leaves the classroom, heavy footsteps carrying him down the hall to the maintenance door that leads to the rooftops. 
It’s a routine he’s done many times before, the muscle memory set into motion the second he sees the custodian cart next to the doorway, with the clip of keys attached to the lanyard hanging off the side handle. Expert fingers grab hold of the clip and slide off the first bronze colored key distinguishable for all the maintenance doors in the building - including the rooftop door. Before the custodian exits the bathroom situated next to the maintenance door, Miles is long gone and heads up the next three flights of stairs to reach the navy blue metal door to the school's rooftop. 
Miles had become well acquainted with the rooftop of Visions Academy. After the death of his father, he found solace in solitude. He couldn’t skip school and stay in his dorm or return to his apartment, because both would result in his mother worrying and stressing over him and his uncle getting on his ass about the importance of school and sending his mother into more distress than what she was already enduring. He’d come across the remote haven on accident; one morning when he arrived at school earlier than anyone else, he’d made a wrong turn into what he thought was his homeroom, but upon recognizing the darker and tinier corridor he had entered, realized he had in fact entered one of the maintenance hallways. Curiosity got the better of the dark skinned boy, and upon climbing the three flights of stairs, came across an unlocked metal door that lead to the school's rooftop.
For months, that would be his routine. Arriving a couple of hours before classes began to spend time by himself upon the school’s rooftop. He’d watch the sunrise above the Brooklyn skyline, allowing the heat to melt the cold exterior of his skin, shaking off the bitterness that came from lack of sleep and a racing mind from the night before. Miles and the morning sun became good acquaintances that way, greeting each other at each sunrise; it became one of very few things he looked forward to in those days, and continued to be his secret motivation to peel himself from his bed in the morning to attend the school his mother and father worked hard to put him in.
His hand grasps onto the door hand and twists, pushing the door outward and Miles is immediately washed in the evening sun. He steps onto the concrete ground, scanning the area in front of him for the presence of another. The corner in which he usually occupies is empty, and there’s nothing much to see at the moment but scattered leaves on top of firm grayness.
Black and white Jordan turn and trail around the side of the rooftop doorway, still searching for any sign of another's presence. Taji’s tip is proven correct when his eyes land upon a feminine figure, and there’s a slight wave of relief crosses his face upon finally finding the girl who’d been missing from class two hours before.
“Yo.” Miles calls out to her, and yet there is no reaction. With his eyebrows furrowed, he calls out again, but there is no response once again. He begins to walk further towards her, confusion beginning to settle in, but is then relieved when he notices a book in her lap; as well as earbuds that become visible the closer Miles steps towards her.
There’s a peaceful air that surrounds the girl, and there’s a part of Miles that doesn’t want to disturb her, but as much respect as he has for the other, he’ll be damned if he has to wait until next week to explain this project to her. So, with a short sigh, Miles reaches his hand out to touch her shoulder, calling out to the girl for the third time.
“Aye-” he begins, and all it takes is a touch on her shoulder for the girl to jump away from his touch in shock. A short yelp - more like a squeak, if anything - erupted from her mouth, which made Miles purse his lips tight to keep the snort he wanted to release at bay.
“Jesus, fuck-” you curse, shoulders dropping and a sigh leaving your lips the moment you realized who it was.
“You know that’s dangerous, right?” Miles asks, raising a finger to create circular motions towards his own ear before gesturing to you. “Having those things in on max; what if you was out on the street?”
A scowl forms on your lips as you take out one of your earbuds, stopping the music you had filtering into your ears as you were deep into your reading. You held the book by the spine, thumb placed in between the pages and forefinger on the hardcover spine. “I know not to do that on the street,” you reply, “I was just tryna read my book, before you decided to scare the living shit out of me.”
The boy rolls his eyes at your words, then follows your form as you take to sitting on the concrete ground, using the side of the ventilation bed to lean against. A second of silence passes between the two of you, before Miles finds himself sitting in the spot you once occupied, with wiring fans sounding behind him softly.
“You ain’t come to class today,” Miles voices, hands tucked into the pockets of his black and white Brooklyn letterman jacket as he focuses his gaze onto you. The soft click of you closing your earbud case sounds as you pocket them into your jacket to give the other male your attention, “what was that about?”
It takes you a minute to respond, and Miles isn’t sure if it was because you were coming up with an excuse that would satisfy him, or if you were buying your time for the question to be unanswered. “You know we got them projects assigned today, right?”
“That’s exactly why I ain’t go,” you answer, finally, “there’s an odd number in that class. Was hoping that I’d just be able to do somethin’ by myself instead of being partnered with some lazy ass who don’t be doin’ shit for real.”
“Damn,” the boy breathes with a chuckle, amused by her colorful choice of words, “ain’t even give me a chance and I’m already being called lazy, that’s crazy.”
It takes you a moment to catch on to his tease, at first furrowing your brows as you deciphered what his words meant. As realization dawned on you, your brows rose apologetically, having now realized the possible severity of your words. 
“No, wait- shit, I didn’t mean like that-”
“You cool, chill,” the dark skinned boy reassures, “I know what you mean.”
He watches as another sigh leaves your lips, in relief that your words were not misunderstood, but also in response to his little joke, and he can’t help but to chuckle again. “You right, though. Don’t nobody in that class do shit for real.”
That little jest did garner a laugh from you, and Miles can tell it’s one of comfort and ease. It’s the kind of laugh his mother would share with him after a long shift at the hospital where she’d have to put up a professional front, and she finally is able to shed the protective exterior and be her cheeky self. It’s the kind of laugh that signifies the forming of bond between people; the development of a relationship; the start of something new.
“A’ight, here’s the deal,” says Miles, his hand coming from the pocket of his jacket, rubbing his nose out of habit, then leaning on his knee to grow closer to you, “we both don’t wanna do this project ‘cus it’s a waste of time-”
“A huge waste of time-”
“-but if we do this project, I can prove to you I’m not a lazy ass.”
He watches as you feign a look of thought, eyes casted upward, lips pursed together with a little hum rumbling from your throat. After a moment, your eyes geared over towards Miles, a teasing smile gracing your lips, before finally answering him; “A’ight, sure.”
You start to rise, and Miles does as well, outstretching a hand to help you up from your seating position. As you dust off the bottom of your skirt from the debris on the ground, Miles picks up your bookbag from the ground and hands it to you once you’ve adjusted yourself appropriately. 
If Miles would have been told that he would be dating the girl who was partnered with him for their end of year project, he’d look at you as if you just called him out of his name. And yet, as he glances down at his phone, eyes scanning over your good morning messages together, he finds himself secretly thanking that teacher for pairing them up; he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
“Hey, Unc?” says the younger, breaking the comfortable silence shared between the two, the ambiance of the morning radio the only sound echoing throughout the car.
“Yeah?” For a second, Miles purses his lips together. He spends a few seconds looking down at the screen of his phone and at the road ahead, as if contemplating on his next words carefully. It doesn’t take much for Aaron to notice the shift in behavior. “What is it?”
The younger’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, creating an extrusion on the side of Miles’ face, before he speaks; “You hungry?”
It’s an odd question posed, Aaron thinks, as it’s one that’s honestly never been posed in this section of their shared routine. Once a job was finished, especially when it went well into the night, and cleanup and debriefing happened during the early morning hours, both were too exhausted to let the thought of hunger cross their minds. Aaron raises an eyebrow at the question, beckoning the younger to explain further, “Am I…hungry?”
“Yeah,” says Miles, “my girl, she uh, she made breakfast, and asked if I wanted a plate. So I was askin’ you if you wanted one too-”
The look on Aaron’s face turned from confusion to bewilderment, and the previous expression was mirrored onto Miles’ face the second his sentence finished. “Why you lookin’ like that?”
A moment passed. A smile cracks onto Aaron’s face, a chuckle falls from his thick lips, a teasing tone already etched into his voice as he begins to speak.
“Oh no-”
“Aww, shit-!”
“Please, tio, don’t-”
“She can cook, too?”
And for the next few second, Miles is sunken into the passenger seat as all he can do is allow the onslaught of teasing and pestering from his uncle to cause heat to rise up his neck at a staggering temperature. In between the questions of other endearing qualities his nephew’s girlfriend may have had, the GPS within the car directs the older to said girlfriend’s address, of which had been keyed in during Aaron’s banter. Amidst it all, the growling of their stomachs was undeniable.
After a series of turns, the pair eventually reached your block, the familiar brownstone buildings and plotted trees along the sidewalk illuminated beautifully by the morning sun. “Right here,” Miles says as he points to the specific brownstone with your address on it, the older easily slipping into the parking spot in front of the building.
The younger mumbles a ‘be right back’ before he slips from the car, leaving Aaron in his own solitude, finding amusement in the entire ordeal. Never had he thought he’d be offered a plate of food by his nephew’s girl, and yet, he finds himself reliving the almost identical situation to the time Jefferson wanted to pull up to Rio’s home for a warm plate of empanadas. It had been the first time he had met Rio, and if Miles was anything like his father, then this would be the first time he’d meet the girl that stole his nephew’s heart.
Thirty minutes pass before Miles emerges from the reddish-brown door, and Aaron would have told the boy off for having him wait for long for a plate he offered, if he hadn’t seen the young lady he’d assume to be his girlfriend trailing behind the dark skinned boy.
“Remember, the one on top is your uncles since he doesn’t like pork bacon. And be careful because the food is still hot, I don’t want y’all to burn your mouths-”
“Baby,” Miles says, his tone warm and comforting as his freehand comes to your waist, the other holding the white bag of styrofoam containers containing the breakfast you had prepared, “I know, it’s okay. I’m not gon’ steal his turkey bacon.”
“Yeah, you better not.” You mumble against the skin of his cheek before pressing your lips to the soft skin, pressing deep into the flesh as if to burn the imprint of your lips onto his skin. Once your lips parted from the first kiss, a series of pecks met Miles’ cheek, causing the boy to smile unconsciously by the softness of your touch.
Miles’ wandering eyes caught the sight of his uncle peering through the car window, snickering at the pair, but just as soon as he was caught, the older resumed his original position; though the attempt to restrain the tug on his lips proved to be a struggle. “Is that your uncle?” You ask, innocent but hesitant, not wanting to cross a boundary. Though the state of your relationship was healthy and stable, with lots of communication and expressions of love shared amongst the both of you, Miles had made it clear that easing you into meeting his mother and uncle would be something to take seriously. They were all he had left, and he wanted to make sure that what the two of you had, and were working to develop, was something long term and lasting. The last thing he wanted was for his relationship to crash and burn the second he wanted to connect the most significant people in his life together.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Miles replies, a slight tug on one side of his lips as he turns to glance at the car, then back towards you, “do you wanna say hi?”
You barely understood the words the other had asked you before nodding excitedly. Though as the two of you descended down the tan concrete stairs, across the sidewalk and to the side of the care, the revelation slowly dawned on you that you were meeting Miles’ uncle, and you had no idea why all of a sudden you felt conscious of the loungewear set you’d chosen to dawn that morning while you made breakfast, or the fact that if was through the window of his car - both being the exact opposite of how you wanted your first meeting with Miles’ family to go.
Aaron took the hint with both of you approaching the car, and rolled down the passenger window to speak to the two of you clearly.
“Unc,” Miles starts, taking his hand from your waist to gesture between you and Aaron, “this is (Y/N); and babe, this is my Uncle Aaron.”
There seemed to be a second of stalling on your end, before you took a step forward, bending at the knees slightly to meet Aaron’s eyes. His one hand rested on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning on the arm rest, propping him up.
“Hi, Mr. Davis,” you said, doing your bets to refrain from stuttering, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello to you, too, miss lady,” the older replies, “it’s nice to meet you, too. I heard you made breakfast for us?”
You nodded with a polite smile, “I was just in the mood to cook, and I figured Miles may be hungry; he said you were with him, so I only thought it right to make you a plate, too.”
Aaron purses his lips together in an expression of approval, eyes moving from yours to his nephews as his head bobbing in a slow motion. “Oh, yeah, she’s good, man.”
“Tio, please-” Miles whines, which garners a chuckle from his uncle and a giggle from you; and for a second, the feeling that formed in the pit of his stomach the first time he made you laugh returns. The kind of laughs that signifies the forming of a bond between people; the development of a relationship… the start of something new. It’s from that, that Miles knows that any worries of his family not liking you vanishes. 
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egoistars · 3 months
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FUNNY VALENTINE wriothesley
your boyfriend doesn't seem to love you anymore, so what do you do? complain to neuvillette of course!
warnings: kissing, u being dramatic, neuvillette being done with ur shit, u and wriothesley being super gross and in love
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you defeatedly slump into a chair in neuvillette's office and sigh for the fifteenth time in the past few minutes. the hydro dragon slides both his hands down his face, much like how he's seen the people of fontaine do when they were in distress.
"(name), if you don't tell me what's wrong i can't help you." in the several hundred years he's lived, neuvillette doesn't think he's spoken those words more than he has now. as he raises a delicate, white teacup to his lips, you burst into tears, violently twisting your head away from him.
"please, don't drink that in front of me," you cry, shoving your face into an overly expensive pillow on his couch. "that duke wriothesley would always drink tea and i cant stand to see it anymore! i will die parched if i have to!"
"if you're implying wriothesley doesn't love you anymore, you are surely mistaken. i'm not too familiar with human emotions, why don't you pay furina a visit? i'm sure she can understand you better."
at the sound of furina's name, you feel your body run cold. the image of your friend laughing until her face flushing crimson red dashes across your mind like an arrow, shooting you in the chest as you bleed out in an impending doom. you love her, truly, but she would never take you seriously in a situation like this.
"hmm, if you don't want to talk to furina, how about i call wriothesley and have you talk to him yourself? he is your partner, he'd be more than happy to talk through this issue with you."
"no! he's the problem! why would i want to talk to the problem? he doesn't love me anymore, neuvillette. he usually kissed my forehead twice before he leaves for work, but today," you pause for a moment, placing a hand on your chest to soothe the agonizing ache of your heart. "he only gave me one."
neuvillette promptly kicks you out.
"now what's this i hear about you crying to the iudex of fontaine about a broken heart?"
normally, the sound of wriothesley's smooth yet slightly mischievous voice would send you sprinting toward him. today however, you were distraught and feeling slightly petty. the only thing that can satisfy your heartbreak was him on his knees, sobbing with a gross trail of snot running down his nose, begging for your forgiveness.
you quickly learn that in the end, wriothesley always wins. with your back faced toward him, he wraps his muscular arms around you in a warm embrace, the fur of his uniform tickling your neck. grumbling unintelligible words, you dejectedly turn to face him but can't hide the thumping of your chest behind narrowed eyes and pouts. wriothesley laughs at you, pressing a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, and one on your rights.
"i'm sorry for forgetting our routine, you petty minx? i ever do something as horrendous as that again, tell me and i'll make it up to you with as many kisses as you want, yeah? if that's not enough, i'll apologize with tears and jump into the primordial sea in your honor."
as the finale of this vomit-inducing opera, he follows the monologue by pressing a loving kiss to your waiting lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.
"yeah you better keep your fucking promise," you threaten. the two of you know you don't intend to be mean by the way you melt into his touch. "i ordered your favorite today so you don't make me regret that."
maybe your boyfriend does love you after all.
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elliezlils11utt · 5 days
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Sorority girl!reader x dealer!ellie
Summary: your crush Ellie walks in on you reapplying lipstick. Alcohol makes u a bit bold & you’ve been at a party drinking. What could go wrong?
Contents: nsfw !! Dom fem!Reader, reader is a sorority girl, marking kink kinda, oral (e receiving !)
Tw: uh weed mention, smut, reader is buzzed.
proofread?: take a guess (please hmu if you wanna proofread my fics bc I need someone to desperately 🙏🏽)
A/n: this sucks fucking ass, and probably is super inaccurate to how actual frat parters r but that’s irrelevant. PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS.😔
Your arms were thrown up into the air, your hips swaying with the motion of the music. The room was hazy and the lights were flashing while your heart pounded with the base of the song.
One of your frat boy friends (Jesse) invited you to a party his fraternity was hosting this weekend. You and your girlfriends rolled up decked head to toe in glitter & Mini skirts.
“Her dee!” You call into the crowd, hoping your friend Dina could hear you over the loud ass speakers. She seems too busy eating jesses face off next to you. You call her name again and finally grab her attention. “I’m going to fix my makeup!” You scream over the music. Dina seems to buzzed to even understand so she just mumbled Somthing and nods before returning to suck her boyfriends face off. You roll your eyes and giggle a little. You make your way through the crowd bumping into people with sleared apologizes along the way.
You take a swig out of the red solo cup in hand before spotting a familiar face in the corner. It was Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams. Your hallway crush ever since you got into college. She was Dinas friend so you saw her around time to time, you just never got the courage to talk to her. She was the known drug dealer around campus so you curated a plan to speak to her today and maybe get her number. (If you were feeling brave) but your makeup came first. You had sweat it all off due to all the dancing and prancing around. You fumbled around the hall looking for the guest room in the overly huge frat house.
The door swings open and you stumble into the room, heading straight to the full body mirror in the corner of the room you sit directly in front of it. Crossing your legs and pulling your lipstick from inside your pocket. You smear the makeup onto your lips, touching up any spots you had missed. The door flys open again & you turn to see who it was. And lo and behold it was Ellie.
“Oh shit, uh sorry. I didn’t now you were in here” her eyes half lidded were shot red.
“It’s chill! I was actually jus about to go looking for you.”
“Oh really? What’s up?”
You stand up and make your way over to Ellie your eyes locking with hers.
“You’re cute” you mumble just a step away from her.
“Oh am I?” She teases & gets closer to you. Shutting the door behind her.
“Mhm.” You hum, an innocent smile tugging at your mouth.
“You’re not so bad yourself, sorority girl” she says, knowing damn well that you are the most gorgeous thing she’s ever laid eyes on. Her bottom lip is pulled in between her mouth. Her teeth tugging the plump skin that you wished was in your own. The tension builds when you could hear your own heartbeat in your throat. Waiting for her to make the first move.
“Fuck it” she murmured before pulling your lips onto her own. Smudging your lipstick all over her face as your so desperately assaulted her lips. Her hands cupped your cheeks, hungrily pulling you closer to you. A soft moan escapes your lips and into hers. You leave your mark down her neck, smearing your red lipstick throughout her collarbones. Your head lands right in front of her clothed cunt. That’s no good. Her jeans are pulled down to her ankles and your eyes find hers. Looking up at her with those doe eyes of yours. Those “innocent” eyes, face to face with her exposed pussy on display. That auburn bush so pretty for you. You kitten lick her pussy, finding her clit almost instantly. A little whimper escapes Ellie’s mouth. The music from the party just outside blaring through the thin walls. “Quiet baby” you coo before pushing your face into her auburn hair. Her hand finds your head when you tongue fuck into her clenching pussy. she tries to suppress her moans as your tongue works at her cunt. you watch as her head flings back, hitting the door behind her with a thud. you giggle before continuing your assault on her pretty little pussy. her hands tangle in your, once tied up, hair. she grinds against your face, completely covering ur face in her juices.
“fuckkkkk- just like that”
her breath starts to get frantic and uneven. her hand shoots up to her mouth quickly covering her moans as she screams into her palm. your arms wrap around her thighs pulling her onto u while she cums. you smirk into her pussy, drinking up her slick. you pull away, and look into her once auburn bush. um, your lipstick dyed it a deep red. actually everywhere your lips went were stained with your makeup. Ellie’s eyes flutter open, finally coming down from her high. you slide her pants back up after placing a final kiss on her clit. you rise meeting Ellie’s eyes. Her face & neck covered in marks of you. Lipstick smeared over her entire face, courtesy of u of course.
“I’d clean up before heading back out. call me.” you say with a wink before leaving her in the room alone.
A/n: this is so sloppy, I need a proofreader. ughbdjsnbdbPKEASE PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS, I WANNA WRITE BUT ION KNOW WHAT TO WRITEEEE. 😔🙏🏽
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augustjustice · 8 months
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Got You By My Side
AO3 Link
Eddie is pulled from deep, dreamless darkness by the sound of a vaguely familiar voice, speaking slow and methodical in the distance.
“Then Frodo felt himself falling, and the roaring and confusion seemed to rise and engulf him together with his enemies. He heard and saw no more.”
More acutely than any of the countless times he’s read this book in the past, Eddie feels Frodo’s pain, the memory of those interdimensional monster bats screeching and clawing and flapping the last image he can conjure before that long, silent blackness overtook him.
The sweet, soothing voice lilts on, unspooling one of Eddie’s favorite stories with all the warmth of covering him in a fluffy blanket. “Frodo woke and found himself lying in bed. At first he thought that he had slept late, after a long unpleasant dream that still hovered on the edge of memory. Or perhaps he had been ill?”
In real time, Eddie blinks his eyes open, the white ceiling overhead spinning slightly before his vision clears. Tilting his head in the direction of the sound, Eddie finds Steve Harrington sitting in an uncomfortable looking hospital chair, the battle outfit Eddie last saw him in replaced by a long-sleeve blue Henley and light wash jeans, a worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring cracked open on his knee.
Fortunately, the memories of the past few days aren’t far from the edges of Eddie’s mind, or he might think he really was dreaming.
“Harrington?” Eddie manages to call groggily, Steve’s name cracking in the middle, and, Christ, his throat feels like someone fucked it raw with a sandpaper condom.
Beside him, Steve freezes, jerking his head up to blink at Eddie with wide, startled hazel eyes. Then he’s tossing the book aside, down onto the edge of Eddie’s bed as he launches himself out of the chair.
Eddie barely has time to register the movement before Steve is throwing an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a fierce hug.
“Eddie!” Steve is so close, face pressed into Eddie’s hair, that Eddie can feel it when his warm breath tickles his neck, like he’s letting out an exhale he’s been holding in for days. “You’re awake! And about time, too, dude. We thought–we thought we lost you.”
Maybe Eddie actually did die, because this kind of overly-affectionate response from Steve totally seems like something that would be conjured up in his own private fantasy land.
Turning on a dime, the sugar-coated reverie that seems straight from Eddie’s dreams is disrupted just as quickly and abruptly as being doused awake with cold water. Because Eddie has barely had time to register the arms around him before Steve jerks back just out of reach, smacks him once lightly on the shoulder, and demands, “What the hell was that, Munson?!”
“Ow,” Eddie whines, even though Steve has done little more than jostle him, “wasn’t being mauled by demo-bats enough, man?”
“Shit!” Steve swears, and the speed with which guilt mars his expression is genuinely impressive–if a little concerning. “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures him automatically as Steve smooths a hand down his arm, brow furrowing with worry as he checks Eddie over. “Seriously, dude, I’m alright.”
Steve shoots him a deadpan look.
“Yeah, kinda think the doctor might disagree with you there, buddy.”
At the mention of doctors, Eddie stiffens automatically. Right, shit, he’s in a hospital. Hawkins Memorial, a public place, with people beyond the band of heroic saviors that have formed around him the past few days.
Doesn’t exactly seem like the safest place for a wanted man.
“Uh, Steve?” Steve looks at him in question. “Shouldn’t I be, like…making a break for it before, you know. The cops bust in here and haul my ass to jail?”
“Oh, that! No, dude, don’t worry,” Steve waves a dismissive hand, “you’re totally in the clear now. Hopper and the feds did their typical scary CIA shadowy cover-up deal, so you’re good to go. All the charges against you have been dropped.”
A long beat of silence falls over the room, Eddie trying to make sense of the sentence.
“...You’re talking about the late chief of police, right? That Jim Hopper.”
Steve scratches a finger over his sideburn, tilting his head to one side as though he’s only now registering the sheer absurdity of what he just said.
“Yeah, so, turns out…not as dead as we thought, apparently.”
“Okay, well…cool. Cool, cool, cool,” Eddie mutters to himself.
The last time he had seen the police chief, he’d been giving Eddie a fairly strong warning about local speed limits and not giving everyone on the road additional white hairs. He’s too afraid of the answer to ask if Hopper had come back from the dead or not.
Clearing his throat awkwardly helps Eddie register again just how damn dry it is.
“Not that I’m not enjoying the emotional whiplash of this reunion, man, but,” Eddie rubs a hand uselessly at his Adam’s apple, “I kinda think I might be dying of thirst here.”
Steve is up like a shot all over again, quickly filling a small paper cup with water from the sink in one corner of the room. As Eddie sits up to take the proffered drink from him, he can’t help but let out a pained hiss, his abdomen burning from the sudden shift in his position.
“Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, man!” Steve chides.
He does that a lot, Eddie has noticed, guiding the freshmen brats, even Eddie himself through battlefields and portals and the horrors of the Upside Down with a hand hovering near their backs as if he’s going to catch them if they fall, all the time tutting like a nervous mother hen.
It’s stupidly endearing, which is something Eddie never thought he would think.
“I promised Henderson I’d watch you like a hawk,” Steve says, pressing Eddie back into the pillows with a gentle hand, “so lay back and just let me help you, okay? Jesus.”
Eddie can’t quite suppress his grin at the way Steve fusses, tutting as he helps guide the small cup of water up to Eddie’s mouth, scolding him with a quick, “You’re gonna spill that if you’re not careful, Eds.”
If the Eddie of two weeks ago could see him now, he would not believe it.
As Eddie drains the cup eagerly, Steve absently tells him to wait right there and then disappears into the hallway.
Eddie snorts, even though there’s no one around to hear it.
Yeah. Like he’s going anywhere in the state he’s in.
When Steve gets back, he’s not alone, his boyish charm having apparently summoned a nurse from whatever front desk she was manning. Eddie puts on a brave face as she checks him over carefully–vitals, flashlights shined in his eyes, the works–and compliments his progress with a genuineness he definitely wasn’t expecting to find inside Hawkins city limits ever again.
Once she leaves again with a promise to send in the doctor as soon as possible, Steve is tugging the chair right back up to Eddie’s side, now turned around so he’s sitting in it backwards. He studies Eddie, wide brown eyes shining with genuine concern that makes something inside Eddie flutter, despite how desperately he tries to tamp down the feeling.
“How’re you feeling? Seriously?”
“Kinda like somebody ran me through a wood chipper,” Eddie admits, gesturing to the gauze bandages draped all up and down his body.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve actually looks apologetic, like he’s somehow responsible.
Ridiculous, the guy is ridiculous. Eddie can’t believe how wrong he was, that he really thought Steve was just some callous, arrogant rich kid, like…a week ago.
“Looks like you’re now an official member of the ‘Upside Down bat chow’ club.”
“Well, hey,” Eddie inclines his head towards Steve’s chest, “at least I’m in good company.”
Steve makes a noise of acknowledgment, tugging his Henley up just far enough for Eddie to see the contrast of white bandages against his tan bare skin. Eddie forces his eyes not to linger, breath hitching in a way that has nothing to do with pain.
“But, you know, maybe you wouldn’t be if you’d just listened to me,” Steve points out petulantly as he drops the hem of his shirt.
Spell broken, Eddie lets out a huff of laughter.
“Anybody ever tell you you’re kinda insufferable, Harrington?”
“Takes one to know one,” Steve shoots back easily before the stern edge seeps back into his voice. “I thought I told you not to be a hero, man. Why did you do that?”
“You really wanna know the answer to that?” Eddie asks, sobering slightly. When Steve nods, he takes a deep breath and barrels on. “Well, I just asked myself, ‘What would Steve Harrington do?’ and even though I would have scoffed three days ago…seemed like the most obvious answer.”
Steve lets out a disbelieving noise, rolling his eyes, which startles another laugh out of Eddie.
“I’m serious, dude! You’ve got this whole…level twelve Barbarian, tearing into bats with your teeth th–” at Steve’s confused look, he amends, “I mean, uh this…badass, action hero at the end of the world thing going for you, and, when I realized you guys still needed a distraction, I just thought…I’d channel a little bit of that, overcome my own natural cowardly tendencies to run.”
“Man, I seriously can’t believe you,” Steve is shaking his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches forward, nudging Eddie’s leg gently. “I’ve got news for you, Eddie. Cowards? Don’t do that.”
Eddie shrugs sheepishly, tugging a strand of hair up to his mouth to chew on, not quite sure how to take the compliment.
Steve smiles at him a beat longer, not saying anything. Then, his eyes seem to cloud over, expression growing distant like he’s lost in thought.
Eddie fidgets, playing with his rings as one hand taps an uneven rhythm against the blanket, feeling pinned with Steve’s eyes still settled on him. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“Earth to Stevie,” he waves a hand in front of Steve’s face, watches the way he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he had just slipped into, “where’d you go, man?”
Steve bites his lip, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed about being caught.
“Just thinking.”
Eddie leans towards Steve, eyebrows raised, expression expectant.
“...about?” he finally sing-songs, drawing the word out in a needling tone, not able to take the suspense a second longer.
“I ran, too, you know,” Steve says quietly, the mood in the room sobering immediately. At Eddie’s questioning look, he continues, “The first time, with Nancy and Jonathan. That thing came out of the walls, and Nancy told me to run–that’s what I was talking about, how she almost shot me that one time–and…I did. I ran. This shit is scary as hell, man.”
Eddie sucks in his bottom lip, mulling over Steve’s words.
“But…you came back,” he hedges, guessing, but based on everything he’s seen from Steve, he’d bet money he’s right. “I mean, total assumption on my part, but–”
He waves a hand in Steve’s direction, a silent here you are.
“Yeah, sure, I did. But so did you when it mattered. There–” Steve shoots Eddie a pained, apologetic look, “look, Eddie, with Chrissy…I know you don’t want to hear it, but there was nothing you could have done at that point. And if the cops had found you there, you probably would have ended up in jail. But you went back to distract the demo-bats. You kept them away from us when we were going after Vecna. So. Guess that makes you a hero, too.”
Steve huffs out a weak little laugh.
“Even though, like I just said, I explicitly told you not to be one.”
“What, you expect me to start taking orders now from Steve Harrington?” Eddie teases, eyes sparkling. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain, man.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, screw your reputation, no more pulling death-defying stunts like that, alright? Cuz I might not be around next time to pull you out of it. Besides, you’re way too important to the kids for that shit.”
“What, you want me to leave all the monster-hunting to the experts, Harrington?”
“No, dude,” Steve reaches over and shoves Eddie lightly, the movement careful, his hand big and warm where it wraps around Eddie’s shoulder, “I just don’t want you to die, okay?”
Those kind brown eyes are on him again, drinking Eddie in like Steve was afraid he might never see him again. It’s all too much, the feeling that this is all really just some fantasy come to life trickling in again, and Eddie has to avert his gaze, swiveling his head as he lets out a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle.
“Well, hey,” he deflects, sweeping a hand over the bandages covering his stomach and torso before tapping just below the mauled spot on his cheek, “At least I took the ‘don’t be cute’ part to heart, right, Harrington?”
Steve finally releases his shoulder, but his eyes are still trained on Eddie. Eddie thinks the scars are going to end up looking pretty badass, sure, but…there’s still an edge of insecurity lurking just below the surface of his bravado. He hopes Steve can’t see it, ferret out the cracks in his performance.
But he suspects he can.
They haven’t known each other long, not actually known each other, at least, but Eddie’s gathered in that short time, just from the easy way he fell into answering Eddie’s questions, anticipating what he needed to know, that Steve picks up on a lot more than most people give him credit for.
“Yeah, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, floppy waves falling across his forehead, “Pretty sure you’re literally incapable of not being cute, Munson.”
Something in Eddie’s chest seizes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Steve is totally flirting with him, even his faux-annoyed tone not seeming too far off the mark from a bit of pig-tail pulling.
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Eddie quips back, because he’d started flirting with Steve in the Upside Down with all the devil-may-care gusto that came from knowing he might die tomorrow and now apparently he’s chronically incapable of stopping.
Steve has his arms crossed over the back of the chair, his chin propped up on them, looking irritatingly nonchalant and cool. Which…Eddie guesses is a lot better than looking like he’s seconds away from hauling off and punching him, but it’s still making him nervous.
He lifts one shoulder, a casual half-shrug, and then says, like he’s not tilting Eddie’s entire world on its axis, “Just the pretty ones.”
Eddie’s entire face heats up, flushing to the roots of his hair.
He can’t remember the last time he felt this flustered and tongue-tied. Probably not since Chrissy Cunningham deigned to smile at him, wide and sincere, at the middle school talent show, he realizes with a bittersweet pang.
“The rumors are true,” he manages to squeak out, “you’re a smooth talker, Harrington.”
Steve grins, wide and bright, looking inordinately pleased with himself. It’s the happiest Eddie thinks he’s seen him since this entire thing started.
“So they tell me,” he agrees, and then has the audacity to wink at Eddie, the bastard.
Eddie isn’t even sure where to go in the conversation from there. Usually, he’d like to think, he’s not too bad at this, can flirt and tease with the best of them. Hell, he has been flirting with Steve on and off for the past few days.
But that was before he lived, and before Steve, to Eddie’s complete confusion, started giving as good as he got, coming back with lines when previously he had been the one blushing and batting Eddie shyly away.
Fortunately, Steve cocks his head to one side, considering, and then breaks the silence for him.
“You know,” he starts, voice soft, “I was jealous of you, too.”
Eddie gawps at him like a fish, nearly as surprised as he had been by what seemed to be Steve’s undeniable flirting. When he manages to get some small semblance of control over himself again, he lets out a short, disbelieving bark of laughter.
“Steve Harrington, jealous? And of little ole me?” he presses a hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes briefly, a theatrical display to cover up the genuine shock still coursing through him. “Why the hell were you jealous, Harrington?”
The corners of Steve’s mouth turn upwards, a self-deprecating twist to them as he reaches up and runs a hand up through that infamous hair of his. Eddie tries not to let his train of thought get derailed wondering if those locks are as soft as they look, how they might feel running through Eddie’s own fingers.
“It’s gonna sound…so stupid. It’s just that…Henderson, you know, he’s a complete and total pain in my ass, but he’s also–he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a little brother. And, I don't know. I guess the kid did kind of have stars in his eyes around me when I first started looking out for him. Except, it didn't feel like it did when all those kids in high school wanted to hang around just because I was popular and I could get them status, or because I had a big empty house full of free booze. It felt like it…mattered.
“But after they started back to school this year and joined up with Hellfire, he and Sinclair and Wheeler, they just went on and on about you, man, how cool they all thought you were, how you ran their little fantasy board game or whatever and they were all super into it, and I guess I just started to worry I was being…replaced. Like they were all growing up, and they wouldn’t need me in their life now that they had found somebody better to look up to.
“And I started to remember how you were in school. You were just so–unapologetically yourself, like you never gave a shit what people thought about you. Back then, I could never do that, and I guess…I started to wish that I had. Been more like you, I mean,” Steve looks up at him then, with a soft smile that would have broken the hearts of a thousand Hankins High girls. "So, yeah. Guess I got a little jealous, Eddie. That I was being replaced by Eddie 'the Freak' Munson."
Steve winces a little on the name, looking sheepish.
"Except it turns out, Henderson was right all along. Eddie Munson? Actually a totally great guy," he claps a hand over Eddie’s knee, giving it a fond squeeze.
Eddie blinks at him, dumbfounded into silence.
“Come on, dude,” Steve says quietly, the tips of his ears going pink as he jostles Eddie’s leg lightly, “don’t just leave me hanging out on a limb here. Say something.”
“That–was the most surreal thing that’s happened to me this week. And,” Eddie holds up a finger, “I’d like to remind you, an interdimensional portal opened up in the ceiling of my trailer.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, nervous at the edges.
“It wasn’t that weird,” he protests.
“Oh, no, man, it totally was. You, Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, just admitted, out loud, that you wished you were more like me, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. That ranks in…at least the top ten weirdest moments of my entire life.”
Steve nudges Eddie again.
“Forget I said anything.”
“Absolutely not,” Eddie tells him with a wide, dimpled grin. Then, he places his hand over Steve’s wrist, jostling him right back. “You come up with that pretty speech all by yourself, Steve?”
The smile Steve shoots him is lopsided.
"I had a little help from a friend."
"Oh, so," Eddie waves a hand between the two of them, "we're friends now?"
The glint in Steve’s eye turns mischievous. "Just think how much it will freak everyone in town out."
Eddie throws back his head, letting out a delighted cackle.
"Harrington, you’ve really got a way of persuading a man."
They grin at each other for a moment, soaking in their own giddiness. Eddie thinks dizzily that this must be karma’s way of paying him back for some of the worst of it, the past few days of vicious bats tearing into him and a mob on his heels. And some part of him thinks it almost makes up for it, the terror and the pain still radiating in his side, if it only means Steve Harrington’s going to keep smiling at him like that.
"Are you still jealous, Stevie?" he asks, and despite the goading edge to the words, his question is sincere.
"Nope,” Steve pops the ‘p’ with his lips, “Not anymore. If anything, it sounds kind of nice, having another pair of hands on deck to help corral those little runts when they get out of hand. It's like herding cats sometimes, I swear."
"Yeah," Eddie falters. Steve’s words concretize the promise of friendship he’s offering, conjuring up a real, solid image of that karmic more Eddie was just imagining. "I guess that doesn't sound too bad. But careful, Harrington. Might start to sound like we're married, or something."
Eddie recognizes the way Steve ducks his head, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks, from their conversation in the Upside Down woods, and he knows this time that he’s been the one to hit the head on the flirtatious nail.
“Speaking of, where are Henderson and the other munchkins, anyway?” he asks, momentarily steering the conversation back to safer waters. “Earlier, you said something about him forcing you to look after me?”
“Okay, first of all, I did not say forced,” Steve argues, his lips drawing down into that disgruntled, petulant frown Eddie has started to grow stupidly fond of. “But, Dustin…yeah, he’s alright. He was here ‘til visiting hours ended last night. Mrs. Henderson had to practically drag him away so he’d go home and get some rest.”
The memories come rushing back, Dustin limping to Eddie’s side to hold him in what he thought were going to be his final moments, and relief washes over him.
“Which is why I’m on babysitting duty today,” Steve adds.
“Well, that is your job now, right?” Eddie teases. “Babysitter extraordinaire.”
“Yeah, yeah. No TV after dinner unless you eat all your vegetables, Munson,” Steve wags a finger at him for the full effect, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “and don’t you forget it.”
“How ‘bout Team Kate Bush and the rest of the Vecna Slaying Squad…they alright?”
The way Steve’s face sobers immediately, mouth pulling into a taut, grim line is enough to make Eddie flinch in anticipation.
“I mean, everybody made it out in one piece, except…Max is in a coma. She’s a few doors down.”
Steve nods his head in the direction of Red’s room, and Eddie feels like he’s been doused in a bucket of cold water.
“Shit. Shit. Do they know when–?”
Steve shakes head, anticipating the end of Eddie’s sentence. He’s immensely grateful that he does, because he’s not sure he could have finished it.
“The doctors–they aren’t sure yet,” Steve admits, running a finger over his top lip, looking as tense as Eddie feels. “I checked in on her this morning, before I came down to sit with you, and she was…stable, pretty much the same as she has been. Lucas was there. I think he’d stay around the clock if they’d let him.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie notes softly.
The boys had told him, about Sinclair and the tough little red-head who lived just across the way, their on-again, off-again romance that was very much off by the time Eddie met them.
But he’d gotten to see it first hand, the last couple of days, the way the two were practically attached at the hip, circling around each other, getting closer and closer. He had to agree with the whispered, giggled assessment he’d overheard Nancy and Robin make during their impromptu RV road trip. They really were cute.
His chest panged at the thought of hard-headed, mouthy Max laid up in a hospital bed, silent and still. Eddie felt like he was too fucking young for this shit, so the fact that this band of brave, fresh-faced little sheepies had to deal with it? Was too unfair for words.
“But, hey. We already had one miracle today, right?” Steve pats a hand on Eddie’s leg. “You’re awake. So, who knows, maybe another one is…right around the corner.”
“You make…an excellent point, Harrington. Can’t stop believing in the impossible now,” Eddie reaches out, places a hand over Steve’s wrist for a second and squeezes. “Red’s steely. Way tougher than I am. Hopefully she’ll be back up and at ‘em in no time.”
The half-smile Steve gives him is a grateful one, and Eddie returns it easily, letting his fingers linger where they’re pressed into Steve’s warm skin, reveling in the fact that Steve seems no more eager to shake him off than Eddie is to pull away. Finally, he pulls his arm up and away, still tingling with the phantom sensation of holding onto Steve for even that one moment.
Steve’s lips part, like he’s about to say something…but then he’s snapping his fingers, a stricken expression coming over his face.
“Oh, shit, I meant to tell you already,” he runs a hand over his forehead, fingers combing up through his hair in a gesture that seems almost…sheepish, “Hop also promised the Feds were gonna loop your uncle in on…well, not everything, obviously, but on where you were, at least. I’m not sure when they’re gonna tell him. Soon, hopefully.”
At the mention of his uncle, Eddie’s heart gives a painful, hopeful little lurch in his chest.
“Christ, Uncle Wayne,” he mutters. Screwing his eyes shut as he buries his face in his hands for a moment, he feels like he’s taking that first desperate lungful of air you gulp down after you’ve been holding your breath for ages. “It’ll be…so fucking good to see him, man.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Steve agrees softly.
Eddie wonders if he just imagined it, that brief stiltedness in Steve’s voice, the stiffness of his posture, there and gone so quickly it’s impossible to tell.
“And Robin’s supposed to stop by later, her parents are gonna drop her off. She said she’d bring up some lunch. So pretty soon you’ll have more than just this handsome mug around for company,” Steve circles his face with a finger, an amused smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.
“Aww, but I like that face of yours, Harrington,” Eddie needles, walking that exact same line between ribbing and flirtation. He’s pretty damn proud of the blush he manages to prompt across Steve’s cheeks. “Okay, so, Buckley and the shrimps are all accounted for, but…where’s Wheeler?”
Steve’s mouth draws downwards, brow furrowing.
“Oh, uh, which one? Mike, or–Nancy?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, and, he’s not proud to admit it, but a little ripple of envy washes over him. It’s that same spike of jealousy that had reared its ugly head in the Upside Down, when he tossed his vest to Steve to break up the burgeoning couple’s moment, stop their familiar, playful banter.
He’s the one that brought it up, but it still serves as a bracing reality check–Steve’s flirtation with him is probably little more than a distraction, something Hawkins’ resident Casanova in all likelihood doesn’t even realize he’s doing.
"Your betrothed, of course,” Eddie’s voice comes out sounding harsher than he means for it to, far more like it does when he’s pushing the buttons of the resident jocks from the top of a cafeteria table. “When's the wedding, by the way?"
Steve frown deepens, looking taken aback, like he’s been pushed off-kilter. And even though that’s usually the very reaction Eddie is looking for, in that moment, he feels kinda like he should apologize for being an asshole when Steve’s honestly been nothing but nice to him.
Steve doesn’t give him the chance.
“Nancy’s with Jonathan,” he says slowly.
Eddie wilts, feeling even guiltier than before.
“Hey, man,” he stretches his hand out uselessly, his instinct to reach out with another soothing touch even though he’s not sure he deserves to. Before he can make contact, he lets his fist drop to the thin mattress, holding himself back. “I’m sorry.”
The fucked up thing is, he means it. Steve’s a great guy, and even after only a few days of getting to know him, Eddie knows, deep down in his chest, that if anyone deserves to be happy? It’s him.
Steve shakes his head, and now he’s the one looking annoyed, and, maybe, just a tiny bit frustrated.
"No–no, dude,” he slashes his hands through the air, like he’s calling a…time out, or something, as if they’re in one of his sports games. “There's nothing to be sorry for. It isn't like that."
And even if he is trying to be less of a dick, Eddie can’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at that.
“Yeah, okay, Harrington,” he says doubtfully, “I mean, I saw the two of you down there. The looks you were giving each other–that’s the kind of stuff people write songs about, man.”
“You’re seriously not listening to what I’m saying, dude.” Chin propped up on his arm, Steve gives yet another exasperated roll of his big, far too pretty eyes. But then his expression smooths out, something contemplative in the line of his mouth. “I thought about it a lot, you know, what you said. What everyone was saying, really. About signs of true love and all that. And the thing is, diving down there after me–Nancy would have done that for any of us. Robin, the kids…she’d have done it for you.”
Eddie doesn't know how to describe it, the feeling that washes over him with the realization that Steve's "us" had included him.
"Me and Nance? We’re just friends, okay? That’s all we’ve been for a long time, now. And the idea that we should try and be anything more than that…chalk it up to temporary insanity caused by demo-bat bites and the threat of the world ending. Again."
Shocked and a little chastised by the revelation, all Eddie can manage to let out is a soft, “...Oh.”
“Yeah,” Steve gives him a pointed look, like he’s been a total dumbass about things, which feels…pretty fair, if he’s being honest. “Oh.” Then, in an undertone that makes it seem like maybe he’s just talking to himself, he murmurs, "Besides, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even want kids."
"...What?" Eddie asks, wondering if whatever sweet, sweet pain reliever they've got him on means he missed a step in the conversation.
"Nevermind," Steve dismisses, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck as his eyes briefly dart toward the ceiling, avoiding Eddie’s gaze, “The point is…there’s nothing going on there. Really.”
“I–yeah, I, um. Got that. Now,” Eddie assures him. “That’s…good, Harrington. I mean, just so long as…you’re alright with it, right?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Honestly, I am. Things with Nancy…they didn’t work out for a reason. We just weren’t right for each other, in the long run. And I do still want to, you know…to find ‘the one,’ I guess. Somebody who really gets me, who just…fits,” he steeples his fingers together, imitating puzzle pieces interlocking, “slides right into place, kinda like they’ve been there the whole time. Like it was with Robin, and the kids–only romantic, this time, of course–but, like…that feeling you get when somebody comes into your life and…you honestly can’t even remember what it was like before, without them. Does-Does that make sense?”
The way his eyes dart over to Eddie, a spark of anxiety in them, it feels like…it matters, to Steve, that it does.
“No, yeah, I totally follow you, man. That all sounds…pretty awesome, honestly.” And even though Eddie has vocally branded himself as a cynic for years now when it comes to romance, it honestly does, making something flutter in his chest at the picture Steve has painted. He ducks his head, hiding behind the sweep of his bangs as he asks, “You, uh…you got anybody particular in mind to play the starring role in your future love life?”
When he risks a glance back up at Steve, he finds himself on the receiving end of that same look so familiar to the many swooning girls of Hawkins, a confident tilt to the pink curve of Steve’s lips, the glimmer in his dark eyes knowing but sweet.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think maybe I do,” Steve leans forward on the back of his chair, conspiratorial as he lowers his voice, “Now, all I gotta do is figure out if they’re interested too.”
Twisting a strand of hair absently around his finger, Eddie lets out a nervous giggle, the sound coming embarrassingly close to a titter. “Come on, man. You’re Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. It’s pretty much a guarantee with you.”
“You’d be surprised,” Steve snorts. Then, he bites his lip, expression tetchy with a new anxious, anticipatory sort of energy. “Hey, I’ve, uh…got something for you.”
The next moment, his face disappears. Eddie attempts to lean forward, see exactly what it is Steve’s doing, but the straining feeling in his stomach won’t let him. Accepting defeat, he contents himself with tugging on a loose string on the starch white hospital sheets, trying–and failing–not to wiggle in place impatiently.
When Steve pops back up again, he’s holding a plastic War Zone shopping bag Eddie can only assume was tucked somewhere beneath the chair he’s been sitting in. After plopping the item gently in Eddie’s lap, Steve reaches inside and pulls out one denim corner, tugging the piece of clothing out to show him.
It’s Eddie’s battle vest, the one he had abandoned in the RV when they marched off into their own real life battle.
“I haven’t had a chance to wash it,” Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly at the blood stains, left behind from his own scarring over bites, “I can do that for you, if you want. Before you get out of here.”
Eddie looks from the vest–outfitted with all his painstakingly selected pins and patches–to Steve, then back again. He remembers how Steve had looked in the darkness of the Upside Down, hair wild, open wounds and chest hair barely covered underneath the denim flaps. Like some otherworldly warrior.
“You can keep it,” he says, looking right at Steve as he nudges the bag in his direction, “it looks better on you anyway.”
“No, man, come on,” Steve argues weakly, once again demonstrating Eddie’s newfound ability to fluster the Steve Harrington, a skill he’s definitely planning to continue taking full advantage of, “it’s your thing, I-I can’t–”
“Hey, man, I’m serious,” Eddie catches Steve’s hand in his own, a gesture that might be a casual, jocular exchange except that Eddie keeps his grip firm, the touch lingering, “you keep it, Steve.”
He swipes his thumb once over Steve’s pulse point, a reflexive, absent movement that draws Steve’s gaze downward. When he pulls his hand back, the fizzle of energy remains in the air around them, electrifying.
Steve ducks his head, almost shy as he tucks the vest back into the bag.
“Alright,” he agrees quietly, “far be it from me to argue with the invalid.”
“That’s right,” Eddie crows, triumphant. He snaps his fingers in the air for emphasis, letting some of his showy, over-the-top dramatics come back into his demeanor to dispel the intensity of the moment. “Patient privilege, Harrington. Besides,” he shrugs, trying to maintain a cool, casual air so he won’t choke on his next words, “now you can wear it to Corroded Coffin’s next show.”
Cocking an eyebrow at Eddie, Steve lets a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “Oh, so I’m invited to see you play now, huh? Not afraid I’ll cramp your style?”
Eddie shakes his head, earnest. “Couldn’t possibly, Stevie boy. You’ll be the most metal person there, since I’m pretty sure no one else is gonna have ripped apart a bat with nothing but their teeth. Not unless Ozzy suddenly breaks down in the middle of Bumfuck, Indiana.”
Though Steve looks mostly bemused, there’s also a faint, pleased flush of pink dusting his cheeks. “You know I still have no idea who that is, right?”
“Oh, don’t worry, big boy,” Eddie gives his arm a quick pat. “As soon as I’m outta here, I’ll teach you.”
“Alright, Eds, you’re on,” Steve agrees, dipping his head, almost coy as he looks up at Eddie through his lashes, “It’s a date.”
Despite the casual way Steve threw out the offer, like it’s no big deal, Eddie’s pulse trips into double time, racing in his chest.
“Cool,” he says, dazed, and, embarrassingly enough, he has to clear his throat when his voice cracks a little, “yeah, okay, cool. It’s a date, then, Stevie.”
Fortunately, having Steve Harrington beam at him makes sounding like a complete idiot totally worth it.
They sit in the silence for a moment after, just smiling at each other dopily. If anyone else could see them right now, their respective reputations really would be in tatters.
Eddie thinks that’s alright with him.
Despite the giddy energy in the room, however, a wave of exhaustion washes over Eddie, like the adrenaline from everything has finally gone out of him. He yawns, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth to try and stifle it.
Steve shifts in his chair, alert as he scoots a little closer, that now familiar concerned look settling over his face.
“Tired?” he asks.
“More than I thought I was, I guess,” Eddie admits, albeit begrudgingly.
“Yeah, well, surviving heroic stunts will do that to you.”
“You’d know all about it, wouldn’t ya, Stevie?” Eddie yawns again, not bothering to hide it this time, just grimacing a little when the motion stretches his side. “Besides, think maybe you wore me out, big boy, with all this sparkling conversation.”
The tips of Steve’s ears tinge, pretty and red.
“Want me to keep reading to you instead?” he offers, picking up the paperback from the edge of the bed and waving it at Eddie.
In the name of pure, good old fashioned antagonism, Eddie can’t help but tease, "I didn't know you could read, Harrington.”
"Hey, butt head," Steve smacks half-heartedly at his leg with the paperback, "which one of us graduated, you or me?"
"Point taken," Eddie laughs, light and pleased with himself, "but who said I could read?"
Steve cocks an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth twitching, like he’s fighting back a laugh of his own. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one,” Eddie sing-songs, parroting Steve from earlier. Then his eyes go round, inching forward on the bed excitedly. "Will you do the voices? Oh please please pretty please tell me you'll do the voices."
Steve’s face scrunches up, adorably lost. "What voices?"
Eddie slaps a hand to his forehead, flopping dramatically back onto the thin hospital mattress as best he can.
"What voices? ‘What voices,’ he says. Oh, Steven–"
"Steve," Steve corrects automatically.
"Steven," Eddie continues, ignoring him, "say it ain’t so."
“What?” he huffs, but a smile has crept back onto his face. “Stop speaking in riddles, dude, this isn’t one of your games.”
“The character voices, man! What else?”
“Oh, right, the character voices,” Steve repeats, deadpan. “Eddie, how the hell am I supposed to do some sort of voices for a book I’ve never even read before?”
“Steven,” Eddie says solemnly, ignoring Steve’s eye roll, “it’s simply not The Lord of the Rings if you’re not doing a full, dramatic reading of it.”
“Well, jeeze, teach me how to do them, then,” Steve challenges, flipping the paperback around to hand over to Eddie.
“Alrighty, big boy,” Eddie takes it, then pats the empty side of the mattress, “hop on up, and I will.”
Steve pauses, seeming surprised, and in that moment’s hesitation, Eddie wonders if he’s going to gently brush him off. But then he’s standing, rounding the bed to the side where Eddie’s palm is still resting, and gracefully sliding in beside him.
“This okay?” he asks, careful of Eddie’s side even as he wraps an arm around his shoulders to help get them comfortable, shifting close enough the book can rest open across both their laps.
“Mmm hmm,” Eddie hums, basking in the warmth that comes from having Steve pressed right against him, the clean scent of his cologne wafting through the air.
He gestures down to the paperback with a flourishing hand.
"Now, transfix me with your magnificent storytelling skills, oh brilliant wordsmith."
Steve shakes his head, letting out a snort of laughter this time.
"You are so weird."
“Aww, but you like it, Stevie boy.”
“Yeah,” Steve says with a shrug of one shoulder, so earnest and unabashed it nearly takes Eddie’s breath away, “I do.”
Steve begins to read again then, voice loud and clear. And as the pair of them giggle and bicker over the book, Eddie interjecting corrections in the form of line readings in his particular theatrical cadence and Steve’s own performance getting sillier and more over-the-top the longer it goes on, for the first time in more than a week, Eddie knows deep down in his gut…that everything is gonna turn out just fine.
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familyvideostevie · 7 months
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remus with reader who’s not overly affectionate. like she doesn’t engage in much pda but she’ll nudge her head against his when they’re sitting next to each other or hold pinkies when they’re walking side by side! just small gestures that aren’t obvious but sweet nevertheless
i love this request!! she's so me, lol. i've taken this and expanded a bit, so in this someone calls you out for this behavior and remus reassures you that he loves you just as is! hope you enjoy <3 | fluff, established relationship, a bit suggestive, 1k
Truthfully, you have never given it much thought. The way you and Remus function as a couple feels right, the most natural relationship you've ever been in, so why would you think anything about it was out of the ordinary? He's absolutely besotted, he tells you so very often, and you feel much the same.
He adores everything about you. He lets you take the lead on so many things because he knows you so well. You've got a reputation as a very "chill couple," whatever that means. Whenever you're at a party or a bar you often socialize apart until you catch each other's eyes over the crowd and he'll be at your side in a second. The familiar, solid heat of him as close as you want and no more.
Remus has never complained that you're not glued to his side. He seems perfectly content to have your hand in the crook of his elbow or your fingers on his knee under the table. You've just never needed that kind of grounding, never felt like you wanted to show that to other people. They don't need to be privy to your relationship.
"All it takes is one look to know how you're feeling, darling," he's said to you. "Those eyes give it all away."
"And here I thought I was mysterious!"
So, your tendency not to be overly affectionate has bothered neither of you. Until someone asks you about it directly at some party.
"Did you get together recently?" a girl you don't know asks. "Or are you just a flirty thing?"
You blink. "Sorry, what?"
"You and the tall one with the, uh, scars? I'm sorry, I don't know his name."
"Remus," you tell her. "I -- no, we're together. We've been together."
She laughs a bit nervously. "Oh," she says. "I just thought, well, he keeps looking at you but you guys aren't very touchy? Like, I only kind of know Lily and James but they are always all over each other, just so obviously in love and --"
"Alright, darling?" She's cut off by Remus's warm tone. You turn and find him at your side, a crease between his brows like he sensed your distress and came over to check on you. Knowing him, that''s exactly what happened.
"Yes, I -- can we get some air?" He nods and you hook a finger through his belt loop as he leads you away from the girl.
It's not her fault, not really. She certainly doesn't mean to make you feel bad about it, but you don't know her. And why are you feeling bad about it, anyway? It's never bothered you before. It's never bothered anyone else before.
And Remus has never said anything about it.
You spill onto the deck of the house and the cool air is a bit of a shock after the crowd. Remus immedietly shucks off his sweater and tugs it over your head.
"Hello," he says, once you pop your face through the neck hole. He fixes your hair.
"Hi," you say softly.
"What was all that?" He jerks his chin back at the house and you sigh.
"Not sure, actually." You link your pinky through his and tug his arm. He knows what you want, as always, and drapes it over your shoulder. "Well, that's not true. I know exactly what happened. She said something innocent that...got in my head."
"Really?" The crease is back between his brows. You want to smooth it away but you don't.
"Does it bother you that we don't do this a lot?" You roll your shoulders to indicate his arm. He looks even more confused.
"I'm afraid I'm still not up to speed," he says slowly. "Do what a lot?"
"Touch," you mutter. "Or like, be affectionate in public. I'm hardly ever touching you. I mean, she asked me if we were even together for fuck's sake."
"Woah, woah, alright," Remus says. He steps in front of you, hands resting loosely on your jaw. It's not an unfamiliar touch, though a bit of an intense one for you -- Remus has seen all of you many, many times behind closed doors. But it's more than you're prone to in public. "What can I do to make this better?"
"Tell me if it bothers you," you say petulantly.
"No," he replies. "Not at all. You're plenty affectionate with me, darling. You touch me whenever you want which is more than I ever dreamed of back when I was drooling over you and you didn't even know my name."
You wrap your hands around his wrists and lean into his palm. "We don't kiss, really." You don't know why you're arguing with him about this. Remus has proven time and time again that he's in this for the long haul.
"Is that so? What would you call what we were doing this afternoon? That was quite a lot of kissing, if I recall, and not all of it mouth to mouth --"
"Remus," you chide. He smirks.
"My point is whatever we do and how we do it is no one's business. I love how we are. I love how you are."
You close your eyes for a moment and feel the warmth of his palms, his sweater, his presence. It's not worth getting worked up over, he's right. Regardless of what people think, what it might look like, you and Remus are going home together at the end of every day. He loves you and he tells you as often as he can.
"I love how you are, too," you say softly and open your eyes. Remus is grinning at you.
"Home?" he asks. You nod.
"Home."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
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spacedace · 7 months
Text
Reluctant War AU Part 3
Part 1 Part 2
More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol
Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.
Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3
---
Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.
She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.
It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.
Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.
It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.
Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.
When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.
Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.
Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.
The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.
She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.
Then she got to work.
The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.
It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.
Things had been going smoothly.
For a time at least.
Until Phantom.
He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.
And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.
An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.
It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.
It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.
Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.
She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.
She had time.
Until she didn’t.
Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.
If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.
He was King Infinite.
He was an Ancient.
He was getting on her last damn nerves.
Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.
Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.
But no.
No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.
Phantom knew what they were there to do.
They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.
Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.
There could be no peace.
The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.
Amanda Waller was not.
The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.
By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.
The weapons labs.
The artifact.
The girl.
All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.
The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.
It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.
She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.
She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.
Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.
Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.
Hands dirty.
Hands red.
Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.
---
Part Four
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sailortongue · 7 months
Text
Sweet Tooth
pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
wc: 4.5k
summary: spencer finds himself frequenting a local donut establishment for more reasons than one. his sweet tooth isn't limited to just pastries and he bets you'd taste delicious
cw: oral (fem receiving), fingering. pls pls pls let me know if i missed smth but i think those are the only major things
------
It was widely known that Spencer was fond of overly sweet coffee, but his sweet tooth was not limited to just his morning pick-me-up. The team had recently wrapped up with a rather grueling case, and he thought he’d surprise them all with donuts that morning. So there he was, in the local donut shop, staring at what must have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The way the early morning light shone in through the windows and illuminated you was truly breathtaking. Try as he might, he stumbled over the order, embarrassing himself in front of you and surely ruining his chances of you liking him.
You could tell he was flustered, so you did your best to suppress your giggles. He was cute. Very cute. This was the first time you had seen him come into the store, and you were hoping it wasn’t the last. He paid for his order and you boxed it up, receiving a shy smile from him as you handed it to him. “Thank you,” he said, before turning and walking out quickly, the bell above the door chiming.
It was a little over a week before you saw him again. He greeted you with a “good morning” as he walked in and approached the counter.
“Good morning!” you said back cheerily, glad to see that he had returned. He scanned the selection of confections before selecting a chocolate donut with sprinkles.
“Huh, I thought you’d be more of a donut hole kind of guy,” you said, trying to make conversation with the handsome man.
He laughed a bit and shook his head. “No, chocolate and sprinkles are definitely the best. They've been my favorite since I was a kid.”
“Oh yeah? I think if I was to pick a favorite it would have to be the apple fritter.”
Not missing the chance to learn about you, even if it was just your favorite donut, he asked, “Why that one? Not that it's a bad choice, but most people seem to prefer the chocolate and glazed.”
You laughed and Spencer swore his heart melted right then and there. “Well, they're my dad’s favorite. And every time he had one he would split it between us. So not only is it delicious, but it reminds me of my childhood.”
He smiled at your wholesome reason and before he could stop himself he said, “That’s really cute.”
You blushed, consumed with the thought that he considered something about you was cute, even if it was something so minor as to why your favorite donut is what it is. God, you didn't even know his name and there you were, developing a crush. Your eyes met his, and you were awestruck at how warm and inviting they looked. He had these expressive brown eyes that you could get lost in if you allowed yourself to. You shook your head from your thoughts, realizing you were probably freaking him out. He was just here for a donut and here you were staring at him like some creep. You hadn’t even bagged it for him yet. Pull yourself together you chastised yourself internally, finally breaking eye contact and doing your job like a normal person.
When you handed him the bag he briefly glanced down at your name tag. “Thanks, Yn,” he said, giving you a small smile. What a pretty name, he thought.
“No problem, have a good day…” you trailed off, hoping he would introduce himself. It was only fair since he knew your name.
“Spencer,” he filled in for you.
“Spencer,” you repeated. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”
–❀– 
Next time turned out to be three days later. You were back in the kitchen, not expecting a customer to be there so early until you heard the bell chime. “I’ll be right there!” you called out. You quickly rinsed your hands and were still drying them on a towel when you walked out to see a familiar mop of brown hair. “Spencer! Good morning!”
He chuckled, “Good morning, Yn.”
“Chocolate with sprinkles?” you asked, remembering his favorite.
“You remembered?”
“You’re beginning to become a regular, and I make it a point to memorize those orders.”
Spencer’s smile dropped a bit, somewhat disheartened that it was something you did for all customers and not just him.
You didn’t notice the slight change in his expression and continued, deciding to take a chance. “Plus, it’s hard to forget the cute customers.”
Spencer’s face instantly flushed crimson, all logical thought leaving him. So much for his high IQ. His mouth opened and closed again, desperately trying to formulate some sort of response. But Spencer couldn't even think straight. His thoughts were in a flurry and every single one was about you.
Seeing his reaction, you backpedaled as fast as you could. “I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I don’t know why I said that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—”
“It’s perfectly alright.” He cut off your frantic apology. “You didn't make me uncomfortable at all. I’m actually quite flattered that you find me as attractive as I find you.”
It was your turn to be speechless. When his words fully sunk in, you couldn't stop the wide smile and giggle that bubbled forth. This man was going to be the death of you. “So, uh,” he started nervously, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “I was wondering if I could get your number?”
You beamed at him. “Yes, of course!” You went to the register and rang him up, writing your phone number on his receipt before handing it to him. He dialed it into his phone, and you heard your phone ringing faintly from the break room where you had left it. “There,” he said. “Now you have my number, too.”
–❀–
Your morning rendezvous with Spencer quickly became the highlight of your week. He was always dressed professionally, and you finally decided to ask him where he worked. The two of you talked about nearly everything under the sun, so you were shocked when you came to the realization that you didn't even know what he did for work.
The next time he came in, you practically ambushed him with your question. His eyes widened in surprise, “Oh, I’m an agent with the BAU. Did I not tell you that?”
“No, you did not. What’s the BAU?”
“It stands for behavioral analysis unit. It’s a department of the FBI. We analyze the unsub’s-”
“Unsub?” you interrupted.
“Unidentified subject. So what we do is analyze the unsub’s actions and behavior and create a profile to better understand how and why they do what they do. This is what allows us to determine the identity of the unsub and arrest them.”
Your jaw had dropped open during his explanation. The guy you’d been casually talking to turned out to be an FBI agent. Cute and badass.
Becoming shy from the attention, he changed the subject to something he’d been wanting to ask you. “So, Yn, would you be interested in meeting somewhere other than here? When you're not at work and I don't have to go to my own job?”
Your face flushed with heat, and your heart pounded in your chest. “Like a date?”
Trusting that your hopeful expression was a good indication, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, like a date.”
The bright smile you gave him at his confirmation would live in Spencer’s mind for the rest of the day.
“I’m free this weekend,” you suggested.
–❀–
And just like that, it became a routine for Spencer to visit the shop at least once a week. He began to find himself getting up earlier and earlier each day just so he could stay and talk with you for longer. The physical attraction was instant from the first moment he saw you, but now that he was truly getting to know you he was falling and falling fast. You had this light about you that Spencer couldn't put into words, even with his impressive vocabulary. 
Reid’s highly observant coworkers were quick to notice his frequent morning donut runs. He never ate them at the shop, choosing to use that time to visit with you. Instead, he waited until he got to the office so he could enjoy the sweet goodness with his daily cup of coffee. And today was no exception.
“All those donuts are going to catch up with you one day, Reid,” Prentiss teased. “You can't be skinny forever.”
“So be it. She's worth it,” replied Spencer, taking another bite, sprinkles falling onto the napkin he’d placed on his desk.
“She?” Morgan raised his brows, a grin spreading across his face as he turned in his chair to face the young doctor.
Spencer’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his food, trying to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. “I meant they. They’re worth it. The donuts.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. So what’s her name?”
Spencer sighed. “Yn.” That was all he said as he pulled his paperwork towards himself. No point in denying it when they were already certain. 
“Woah, woah, you can't just leave it at that! Tell us about her. What's she like and how did you meet? Spill everything.” 
Spencer merely took another bite of his donut, a smug smirk on his face for withholding the information his colleagues were so curious about.
For the rest of the day, Morgan and Prentiss attempted to convince Spencer to divulge his sweet secret. After another failed attempt, it finally hit Morgan, and he had to admit he felt very silly for it. He waited until Spencer left on his lunch break before he approached Emily’s desk.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.
“What’s up is that Hotch should probably reconsider our positions on the team,” he joked. “The donut bag. It’s in Reid’s personal mini trash can under his desk. All we have to do is look at it real quick and we’ll know exactly which shop he goes to!”
Emily laughed, amused how it took so long for one of them to think of that. “Then what are we waiting for? Let's go dig in the doctor’s trash.”
They both stood and went over to Spencer’s desk. Morgan reached under and pulled out the small trash can, plucking the crumpled bag from the top. As he flattened the bag back out, a voice startled the two of them and they spun around in unison, like two kids that had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Why are you two digging in the kid’s trash?”
“Reid has a girl in his life and if he wont tell us then we’re gonna find out ourselves. She’s either a regular at this place—” he held up the bag, displaying the logo for Rossi to see, “—or she works there.”
“Hm. I see. Carry on, then,” was all he said before continuing on his way.
The younger agents turned their attention back to what they were digging for. “Meche’s Donuts,” they both read aloud.
“Pretty sure that’s close to Reid’s place. Y’know, I think some donuts tomorrow morning would be great, don’t you?”
“Now that you say it, yeah, donuts would be good. Meet you there at 8:00?”
“You bet.” He recrumpled the bag and replaced the trash can as it was.
When Reid returned, he didn't notice the look his friends exchanged and was none the wiser.
–❀–
The next morning, both Emily and Derek got up earlier than usual and met in the parking lot of Meche’s. They approached the building, and Derek held open the door for Emily, the bell chiming to notify you of a customer’s arrival.
“Good morning!” you greeted like usual.
They returned your greeting as they neared the counter, both of their sights narrowing in on your name tag: Yn.
“Has a guy named Spencer Reid been here today?” Morgan asked, never one to beat around the bush.
“No, do you know him?” You asked curiously.
“Yeah, we’re friends of his. We noticed that his sweet tooth has been getting the better of him lately. Lots of donuts,” he smirked, gesturing down to the transparent display. “Pretty boy had a bit of a slip up and told us that it was because of a girl, but wouldn’t tell us anything else. So we decided to do a bit of sleuthing.”
“And here we are,” finished Emily. “I’m Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Agent Derek Morgan. Promise we’re not creeps, this is just the first time we’ve known him to have a crush on someone and we wanted to know what you looked like. He’s got good taste at least.”
You laughed good-naturedly, “Don't worry about it. We have a date scheduled for this weekend actually.”
Emily ooohed like a schoolgirl. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I’m dying to know. What is Spencer’s idea of a date? Bet he takes you to a bookstore.”
“Or a foreign movie,” interjected Morgan. “With no subtitles, so he can whisper the translations in your ear.”
–❀–
Saturday
You were getting ready for your date with Spencer when you heard your phone ring. The caller ID told you that it was Spencer calling and butterflies erupted in your stomach.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way.”
“Ok, perfect! I’m almost done getting ready. You remember the address?”
He laughed. “Of course I remember. There’s not much I don’t remember.”
“Oh, my bad Dr. Reid. We can't all be super geniuses with an eidetic memory.”
The two of you talked and joked with each other until Spencer told you that he was parking and would be up in a moment to meet you at the door. All you had to do was quickly slip your shoes on and you were ready.
Three sharp raps sounded from the door, and you peeked through the peephole before unlocking the door and swinging it open.
He seemed stunned for a second, just taking in your appearance. “Wow,” was all he could think to say. “You look beautiful.”
“And you look very handsome,” you returned the compliment. And he did, as always. He was probably the only guy you knew who could pull off a sweater vest. He may dress like an old man, but damn did he make it work.
Turns out that he picked out some hole in the wall diner you’d never even heard of. But he swore by their food and claimed it was some of the best in town. Also that they made a mean bread pudding. A broad smile overtook his features when he saw your eyes light up at the mention of the dessert. He’d recalled from a previous conversation that it was your favorite and had made sure to choose a restaurant that had it on the dessert menu.
The meal was spent indulging in a lively conversation about all of your favorite books. He even suggested a book exchange; he’d load you his favorite, and you’d loan him yours. Though you did warn him that you might have to pick up a new copy first, as yours was particularly old  and practically on the verge of disintegrating in your hands.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said.
“No, it is!” you insisted. “The last time I read it I looked down and there were a bunch of particles on my lap from the pages.”
After picking up the check at the diner, Spencer informed you that there was a movie he wanted to take you to. “It’s a Russian movie, and I’m not sure if there’s subtitles or not, but I can whisper the translations for you. But I definitely think you’ll enjoy the plot.”
You thought back to what Morgan said when he and Emily visited you. Morgan: 1, Emily: 0. 
Turns out, there were, in fact, subtitles. However, Spencer claimed those weren't very accurate to the tone of the movie and chose to give you his own translations anyway. In order to not disturb other movie goers, he had to lean in to whisper, so close that his lips would occasionally brush the shell of your ear. If not for the fact you were already sitting, you thought your knees would have given out. The low timbre of his voice traveled straight from your eardrum all the way to your core. You tried to pay attention to the movie, you really did, but the gentle rasp of Spencer’s voice in your ear had you beyond distracted. He was so close. Between the close proximity and his voice, your panties were quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky which led you to squirm in your seat occasionally. 
Spencer, the hyper-observant profiler that he was, noticed your pitiful attempts to adjust the way you were sitting. “Are you ok?” he asked, interrupting his translation mid sentence.
“Yes!” you answered hurriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat nervously and hoped he would let it go. You could see a slight frown form on his face before it looked as if a metaphorical lightbulb went off over his head.
He resumed his position near your face, once again whispering to you, but not translations this time. No, this time it was as if a switch had flipped inside the sweet man you’d become so fond of. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you like having me so close to you. Isn't that right, Yn?”
The way he whispered your name so sensually had your heart beating out of your chest and your breath hitching in response. His laughter came out as a huff, trying to stay quiet. “Think you can wait until the end of the movie?” he asked with a suggestive lilt to his words.
You both knew the answer, but you pretended to think about it in an effort to spare at least some of your dignity. “No,” you answered with your head down, almost ashamed at how easily Spencer had riled you up.
“‘No’ what? Use your words, sweetheart.”
To hell with your dignity. “No, I can't wait. I want you now.”
He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat as he stood. He led you out the doors and to the parking lot, heading straight for his car.
“Where are we going?”
“My apartment.” he answered swiftly as he put his hand on the back of your seat to back out of the parking spot. 
The ride to his apartment was spent mostly in silence, both of you tense for all the best reasons. At one of the red lights he’d made the bold move to relocate one of his hands from the steering wheel to your left thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth and gently squeezing it every now and then. Every squeeze sent a bolt of electricity to your center and you were getting needier by the second.
–❀–
As soon as his apartment door shut behind him, his mouth was on yours, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. With both hands on either side of your face, he licked the seam of your lips impatiently, wanting nothing more than to taste you. You obliged, and his tongue snaked its way into your mouth, intertwining with yours. He groaned into the kiss, unable to get enough of you. Pulling away from your lips, he kissed down your jaw and neck slowly, deliberately. Taking his time to leave dark marks in his wake. He took a deep breath in through his nose. “You have no idea what this perfume was doing to me at the movie. Could barely even translate for you,” he mumbled into your skin.
“Bedroom?” you asked, near breathless with anticipation but not particularly wanting to get fucked in his entryway.
He led you through his apartment to his bedroom where Spencer wasted no time reconnecting his lips to yours, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, prompting you to sit. Before you could lay down, his hands tugged on the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off of you, hm?”
He made quick work of the cloth and tossed it aside “God, you're so pretty. Lay down for me, sweetheart,” he said. You flushed and did as he told you, scooting yourself higher up on the bed before laying your head onto his pillows. He removed both his sweater vest and shirt before eagerly crawling atop you. He propped himself up on his elbows, his face aligned with yours. You impatiently leaned up to kiss him again, and you could feel him grinning into the harsh kiss before kissing you back. His hands wandered across your body, settling on your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and pressed your chest further into his large hands, your hips bucking up, seeking the friction you so desperately wanted. 
He chuckled, removing his hands from your breasts to your hips and holding them down, preventing you from moving them and eliciting a whine from you. “Patience, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Promise.” His voice was low and gravelly, his lips pressed against the skin just under the skin of your earlobe. He suckled the skin lightly as one hand came up behind your back, unclasping your bra and giving it the same treatment he gave your shirt. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of seeing you half naked beneath him. This felt like a dream come true to Spencer and it was taking everything he had to not throw his inhibitions out the window and ravish you right that second.
He groped your bare chest for a moment before leaning down to lick a stripe between them. He placed feather-light kisses across your skin, his hair falling over his face and tickling you where it brushed. His trail of kisses led him to one of your nipples, which he took in his mouth, sucking lightly. You gasped when he used his teeth to pull on it slightly. “Spencer!”
While his mouth was busy with one, he had a hand on the other, tweaking the bud between his nimble fingers. You raked your hands through his hair, holding him in place. The tug on his roots had Spencer groaning into your chest and increasing the intensity of his ministrations and suckling you more and more fervently with each tug of his hair and sweet moan from your lips. Satisfied, he released your bud with a slight pop and switched to the other side, determined to make you squirm and beg for him before he touched you properly. The hand that wasn't on your breast lowered from your waist to your hip, massaging the supple flesh.
“Please, Spencer,” you begged, needing so much more than he was currently giving you. You were aching for him, panties soaked with evidence of your want.
He released your nipple and tilted his head to look at your face, both of your pupils blown wide with lust. He cooed at you, “What does my pretty girl need? Tell me, and it’s yours.”
“You!” you cried. “I want you! Please, Spencer!”
He groaned, the sound low and guttural. “You already have me. I was yours from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Your eyes softened from his words, and you watched him as he tilted his head back down, tracing his nose down your abdomen as he lowered himself further down the bed, his hands caressing your sides as he did so. He placed a chaste kiss just above the waistband of your bottoms before hooking his fingers under it. “May I?”
You nodded frantically, and he placed another kiss in the same spot as he pulled your shorts and panties down together, tantalizingly slowly. Finally seeing you completely bare before him had him nearly cumming in his pants on the spot. You were so perfect and he wanted to make you feel so good that the only name you knew was his. He ran his hands up your thighs and settled his head between them. “You're absolutely dripping for me, sweetheart.” Spencer was practically panting from the lust flowing through his veins. He placed a chaste kiss to your clit before tentatively licking your cunt. You let out a strangled moan, his hot tongue not providing near enough pressure.
“Don’t tease me, Spence,” you mewled, your hands weakly trying to push his head back down where you needed him.
“Savoring, baby, not teasing. I don’t want to forget a single moment of this.” With that said, he licked a broad stripe across your pussy, much more confident than the first time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, groaning into you. You cried out his name, grip on his hair tightening. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he said breathlessly before diving back in, slurping at you like a man starved. He hummed with bliss as he continued to eat you out, the vibrations adding to the stimulation. “So sweet, baby, oh my God,” he praised. He lifted your legs and placed them over his shoulders, pressing himself further into you as he wrapped his arms around your thighs.
It was all you could do to keep from screaming his name as he continued to lick and suck at the most intimate part of you. You thrashed in his hold, overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you. He tightened his hold on your thighs, holding you open so he could continue to drink you in. He swore he would never be able to get enough of you. If this was the last thing he ever did then he'd die a happy man.
“C’mon, sweetheart, cum on my face. Give it to me. I want it,” he grunted. Without warning, he plunged a finger into you, causing you to cry out. He added a second finger shortly after, and he relished in the way your walls were squeezing around his fingers. You were so close and it was all because of him. With his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his mouth on your clit, you were finally pushed over the edge, cumming with a scream of Spencer’s name. He didn't stop until you were practically shoving him away, the overstimulation becoming too much. His face was covered in your juices, and you watched with rapt attention as he licked his lips before wrapping them around the two digits still covered with your wetness, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste as he did it.
Yeah, Spencer Reid definitely had a sweet tooth.
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habken · 7 months
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Yo just so you guys know, cause some people are getting too familiar in my inbox, I don’t enjoy being called pet names or bestie or anything like that. It feels very patronizing and crosses a boundary. I don’t know you guys, especially if you’re anonymous, and honestly you don’t really know me either.
If you ask me a question and you call me something like that, I just won’t answer. I’m fine joking around but I’m not a fan of the weird overly familiar or intimate nicknames.
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dira333 · 2 months
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Away from home - Oikawa x reader
Follower Celebration Request
A/N: Since I had quite some trouble characterizing him, I'd appreciate it if you told me how well I've managed
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Your last roommate had been less difficult.
Granted, he’d only been on the lease for a month before he moved out again, and even then, you barely saw him. 
But this guy is different. He’s been overly charming during the interview, to the point that it made you suspicious. Who flirts that much over a simple room? Especially when it had already been clear that he got it?
Oikawa Tooru is tall, good-looking, and aware of it. He’s also your roommate of one day and is already going on your nerves.
“The laundry.” You’re standing in the doorway to his room, laundry basket heavy on your hip. “You need to put it away when it’s done or I can’t use the washer.”
“Oh, I was going to do-” Tooru scrambles up from his bed where he’d been watching something on his laptop, his ridiculously floppy hair bouncing as he moves. He’s like a walking shampoo ad.
“Yeah, now.” You put the laundry basket down. “And I need it in half an hour when my load is done.”
“Sure thing, honeycup.”
“Don’t call me that.”
You had wondered, for about half a minute, how he was dealing with the culture shock that was Argentina. It had been tough for you, coming from America, but it had to be worse for him. You still remember how he blushed when you casually used his first name - like you were used to doing - before realizing that that’s not really a thing in Japan. 
Was he as homesick as you? Did he miss familiar sights, the simple things like being able to get your favorite brand of chocolate in the nearby store instead of having to find a specialty shop and paying an arm and a leg for it? 
You wanted to ask, kind of, until you walked back to his room thirty minutes later only to find your laundry basket still filled with wet clothing.
“Are you serious?” You ask. He looks up from his laptop, brows furrowed.
“What?” He asks.
“The laundry. I told you I need the basket.” 
“I was going to-”
You grab the basket, lift it up, and turn it over, watching with a sick kind of satisfaction as it drops heavily on his bed - and partly on him too. 
“I’m not your mom.” You remind him and storm out of his room before you can lose your temper even more.
-
A week later you’ve learned a few things about Tooru.
One, he needs longer in the bathroom than you. Especially in the mornings when you really have to pee.
Two, he has the worst diet you’ve ever seen and you lived with your diabetic grandfather until you moved here. How can he survive on coffee and Tortas Fritas and still look like someone cut him from marble a few hours ago?
Three, he never seems to sleep. Twice you’ve got up in the wee hours of the morning because your bladder insisted on it, only to find him up, watching sports on his laptop like a maniac.
Four, he owns at least five pairs of Alien-themed loungewear. That you know because he keeps forgetting to put his laundry away.
Which brings you to the fifth thing you’ve learned about him. He never, ever, ever puts his laundry away.
It’s a miracle he even knows how to start a washing cycle. But as soon as he presses the button he seems to forget that the machine even exists until you put the laundry basket in his room and insist that he hangs his clothes to dry. When you come back around and find that he hasn’t done that, you can either hang it up yourself to avoid the smell or nag him until he does it. Which in turn will lead to you nagging him about taking down the dry clothes. You suspect he just picks them from the clothes line whenever he needs to wear them, entirely foregoing his closet.
And you should be above this. He’s your roommate, not your friend. He’s a stranger and not part of your family. He’s not even a child, even though he acts like one. So even if you’re studying pediatric medicine, that does not mean you have to throw yourself in front of every man-toddler who seems to need your help.
But he does. And you cannot make yourself stop caring.
-
“Listen up, Buttercup.” You start the moment the door clicks shut behind him.
“Oh?” He asks, voice hopeful. The smile slips from his lips the moment he sees you.
Your hair is pushed away from your face thanks to the most ridiculous headband you own - it has two plush black crows sown onto both sides instead of cat ears because your little brother had both a sowing and a crow phase at the same time. You hold your spatula like a sword and point it at him.
“We’re cooking today.”
“I don’t need-”
“You cannot live by Tortas Fritas any longer.” You declare. “My medical degree will not allow it.”
“You don’t have a medical degree yet.”
“And you’re not Karch Kiraly but you sure act like him.”
That makes him perk up. “You know Karch Kiraly?” 
“Who doesn’t?” You throw an apron at him. “Get dressed.”
“Do I have to?”
“Do you want to ruin your clothes?”
He makes a face like he’s hurting. “It’s just… it has crows on it.”
“Yes, my brother made it. You can use your own apron if you cannot handle some cute crows.”
The hurt look intensifies but he wraps it around his body, fiddles with the strings.
“You’re hopeless.” You step behind him and tie it closed, making sure to pull it extra tight as punishment for last week's actions.
“Do you have any allergies? Sensory issues?”
“I don’t like slimy food.”
“Well, you’re in luck, we’re not making slime today.”
-
Tooru is, surprisingly enough, not a fool in the kitchen. He knows how to cut vegetables without hurting himself and he manages not to burn anything. 
But he talks. A lot.
His English is as good as your Japanese is rusty. His accent is kinda cute, but you choose to ignore that. His Spanish is downright criminal and you have to remind yourself of his awful laundry behaviors to keep from swooning every time he points at something and names it in Spanish.
“You’re very adamant.” You point out. “Your Spanish is good, you could probably slack off a day or two.”
The look he gives you has you shivering.
“Why should I slack off?” He asks. “What do I gain from that? Do you know how hard it is to get rid of your accent?”
There’s an intensity to his voice that makes you take a step back only to bump into the table behind you.
He stops, freezes, and for some inexplicable reason - ducks his head.
You stand there for a second, speechless and confused until he seems to realize that whatever he was waiting for isn’t coming. When he straightens up again, sadness washes over his face and you know that look - it’s Homesickness.
“Who are you missing right now?”
“Iwa-chan.” He turns around to flip the frittata. “He’s my best friend.”
“Did he ruffle your hair?” You ask, “Is that why you ducked your head?”
“No.” He laughs, still not facing you. It must be easier for him to be open like this when he’s not looking at you. “He’d throw Volleyballs at my head when I was misbehaving. I’m sorry, by the way. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Like you could scare me.” You joke, trying to downplay the effect he really had on you.
“Oh, I can be scary when I want to be, don’t you try me.” He turns this time, but the smile on his face ruins the joke. You like him more when he’s honest instead of charming.
“So that Iwa-chan.” You move to plate the food. “He’s your mom? Mom-Friend? Did he also make sure you did your laundry and went to bed early and ate healthy?”
It’s more meant as a joke than a real question and you falter when you realize that you hit the nail on the head. 
Tooru seems to fold under your question. 
“Yes.” He pouts. “I thought… Well…” He grips the edge of the sink, stares out the window instead of facing you. “The team I play for offers housing. I had a nice apartment all to myself.”
“But you need the reinforcement of a second person to actually get your life together?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even sound ashamed about it.
You step forward, as close to him as you dare. When he turns, you level him with a glare, stick your pointer finger into his ridiculous buff chest. 
“You listen to me, you little shit. I am not your mother and I am not your Iwa-chan. I will not run after you and remind you to eat and take a shit and go to sleep. You are more than capable of doing it yourself.”
He opens his mouth to answer but you’re not done yet.
“If I catch you with another Tortas Fritas this month, I’ll whoop your ass.”
Tooru smiles so bright you can see a dimple forming. “Is that a promise?”
“Eat.” You turn away before he can see how flustered that comment made you.
-
Two days later you find him in the kitchen, making a ridiculous show of it as if he’s there to film an ad for an apron instead of cooking.
He’s bought an apron for himself. Something told you he wanted to buy an alien-themed one but couldn’t find one.
Should you tell him that Godzilla isn’t an alien? He seems pretty happy about the little guy destroying cities on the flimsy fabric.
It’s been a rough day for you. Both your period and your work studies have you rubbed raw. You want to crawl into bed, not think about the boy that came in today, the one who reminds you too much of your little brother.
“Hey, am I doing this right?” Tooru calls after you as you make your way to your bedroom to unload your stuff.
“For sure.” You croak out, half turned to look at him. 
There’s something in his smile that makes it look wobbly. Not for the first time you wonder if he’s just as homesick as you are. You drop your bag on the floor in front of your bedroom door and walk back to the kitchen.
“What are you making?”
“Curry.” He waves his spoon around like he’s a magician instead of a cook. “My mother’s recipe.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever tried Japanese Curry. Can I try?”
“Of course.” Tooru grins proudly. “I made enough for both of us. And there will be leftovers.”
“That’s neat. What’s the special ingredient?”
“No special ingredient. It’s a basic recipe, I can teach you if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” You lean against the sink, surprised when he pulls something from the fridge. 
“Iced coffee. Thought you might like one when you get home.”
“You’re a godsend.” You groan and take the first sip. You’re not sure what’s more effective at waking you up, the caffeine or the coolness of the drink against the heat of all of Argentina.
“You shouldn’t drink that much coffee.” He points out when you’re halfway done with the drink.
“You shouldn’t tell me what to do.”
“You could sleep more.”
“I will when you do it too.”
He looks up, a grin on his face that speaks of danger. “Deal.”
“What?”
“Bedtime for both of us. Does ten sound okay?”
“You’ll never be able to get to bed at ten. Don’t you have to bingewatch sports for five hours at night to feel complete?”
“Ouch. I’m just doing research.”
“Mhm, or you have a fetish.”
He laughs at that, loud and carefree. You like him like this.
“Tell me about your mom.” It sounds a little too harsh, but he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re demanding instead of asking.
He looks different when he speaks of his family. Younger and taller, both at the same time. Like he allows himself to be vulnerable and grows above himself through that. 
You wonder how he could ever think that his fake smile could work on women when his real smile is this attractive.
-
Days turn into weeks, into months.
Tooru is now the crowned king of the kitchen - after a few too many cooking battles that you’ve all sorely lost. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to cook, he just needs a reason to do so. He jokes it’s the smile on your face when you eat, but you don’t want to believe that.
It holds too many implications to believe it.
In turn, you’ve taken up all laundry duties. It’s a good system and you don’t have to nag him anymore. If he doesn’t put his dirty laundry out on Tuesdays, he will go without clean clothes for another week. Enforcing that rule has already gotten you plenty of pictures to use for blackmail, your favorite the one of him in a bright pink jumpsuit he was supposed to bring a friend. Pink suits his flustered face.
-
Iwa-chan is coming today. He’d told you about it weeks in advance when his friend booked the flight.Tooru has been like a headless chicken ever since and you’re happy for him, you really are, but there’s also a pang of jealousy. Why can’t your family take the time to visit you?
You know why, but it still hurts that you’re going to have to watch him be happy, pushed to the side in favor of his new friend.
“Hey.” He stops by your door, throws himself into a ridiculous pose like he always does and grins when you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m leaving in five minutes. Are you ready?”
You furrow your brows. “Ready for what? I told you you have to clean the apartment, he’s your guest.”
“No, to come with me, silly. I can’t go into the madness of an airport alone! What if someone recognizes you?”
“Well, they might do as a favor and kidnap you.” You joke and watch him pout. It’s ridiculous how cute that makes him look.
“Take that back.” Tooru whines and you laugh. “Never.
“Take that back!” He repeats, taking one step, then two, only to drop himself on you.
You shriek in surprise at the sudden weight, try to wiggle away but his face is so close, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes full of light.
You don’t really know who moved closer first. You, him, both of you? 
But your lips meet and your eyes close and it’s just him and you and your joined breath and the softness of his lips, his weight on you and your hands in his ridiculous fluffy hair.
You don’t speak for a while, don’t need too. Exploring this is more important.
Eventually he pulls away to press his temple against yours, to squint into his eyes.
“You like me?” He asks, voice uncharacterally shy. 
“I hate you.” You tease and move for his lips again. He pouts.
“Don’t tell anyone.” You whisper against his lips. “Okay? Don’t tell Tooru.”
“Just Iwa-chan.” He whispers back, caught in the feeling of it. “He’ll be able to guess it anyway.
You giggle against his lips, kiss him again, once, twice, until you can feel yourself getting lost in it again. But there’s a thought nibbling at the edge of your brain now and it gets louder.
“Tooru?” You ask when you pull back again. “Shouldn’t we leave for the airport?”
His eyes widen comically as he whips his head around to look at your alarm clock.
“Shit! He’s going to be so mad!”
-
Iwa-chan is a monument of muscle, a building of a man. He’s not that tall, at least not taller than Tooru, but he’s impressive in his sturdiness, arms folded in front of his chest as he glowers at Tooru.
Tooru seems totally unimpressed by that, even as you drag your feet, a little scared of his friend. 
“Iwa-chaaaan!” He sings, drapes himself over his friend's shoulder. “I missed you!”
“Clearly you didn’t! You’re half an hour late!”
“It’s not my fault.” Tooru smiles coyly, pulling you close by the hand he’d been holding since you exited his car. “Can you blame me? I got distracted by beauty!”
“I…” You stumble. “I’m sorry. This time it really is my fault. But I kicked his ass on the way here.”
Iwa-chan’s lips quirk up into a hint of a smile.
“Good. I’ll leave the rest of the ass-kicking to you.”
You salute him, which has Tooru whining like a child and begging for mercy.
You pull at his ear, just enough to tease him. 
“Come on.” You tell him. “You need to show Iwa-chan how well you cleaned your apartment.”
-
Tagging anyone who helped me - it was much appreciated:
@alienaiver @misfit-megumi @missalienqueen @amecchii @notsochillnerd @ur-local-simp @krishnaabhistha @fuzztacular
Hope I didn't forget anyone. If I did, forgive me!
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