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#i just can’t with that dawning realization
broflovski-brah · 2 days
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what each of the boys major/minor in
note i have my own version of post covid. it’s an AU and I recognize that. What I’m doing is an AU. so. keep that in mind.
Cartman
Cartman majors in business
i mean-look at how he was in Dikinbaus. He would be really good at business. He’s really good at bribing people to buy his shit
He’s also smarter than people give him credit for. He just has no motivation.
He minors in food science.
I like to headcanon that once Liane realized she was spoiling Cartman she kinda locked in (like she did in HumanCentiPad) and teaches him how to cook.
He actually comes to enjoy it and he seemed to have some knowledge of food science beforehand so
Stan
Animal science major. You can’t convince me otherwise.
He becomes a veterinarian in the future. He works with pets, though he got a job at a zoo at some point (he hates putting animals down)
Hes really gentle with animals. He’s one of those people that thinks dogs are better than people/hj
He minors in biochemistry
I already know some of you are thinking ‘Oh WhY nOt MuSiC?’ but like…realistically I don’t think science and music would really clash together when it comes to jobs
I think he recognizes that. So he does Crimson Dawn on the side when he’s free.
Kyle
This was the toughest ngl
He majors in Psychology
I like to headcanon he becomes a therapist. He likes helping people. Hes compassionate. And no, I don’t wanna hear the ‘Oh He DoeSnT UndErStAnD dEprEsSiOn How CaN hE dO pSycH’ like he was nine at the time
I think he would be the type of person to do research on the side about mental diseases because he wants to learn
And hear me out on this. He originally wanted to major in law. I feel like his dad would be big on ‘having his oldest son carry the family name on’ but Kyle ends up not enjoying it so he drops out
He double minors in political science and philosophy
He seems very high on his morals, so I think he would find interest in philosophy, a place where he can express his moral opinions
And he’s great at debate. So I like to think he would go into political science. Not just because he likes debate but also so he can say he’s ’qualified to talk about this because he’s a minor in political science’
Kenny
Okay okay but imagine Engineer Kenny
He’s creative. He has the ideas. He has the ability. I like to think he worked a lot of odd jobs and got really into building things. And he decided he wanted to do that in his life.
I like to think he’s actually really smart. He just doesn’t really have the best home situation so he isn’t given as many opportunities as he would’ve liked.
Although I also like to think that he would buckle down in high school and actually gets into the top five for his class. He applies to pretty good schools and gets a near full ride for some of them. But anyway, I’m yapping too much
As for a minor, he, like Kyle, double minors. in accounting and math.
He wants to make sure nobody has economic issues like he had. And he has a leg up in what he does because he’s dealt with money his whole life practically.
He’s fairly good at math. Plus he’s already got a leg up, like I said.
ahe really pushes himself in college to become someone who can help people who were in the same situations as him. So he works hard and actually does good.
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sinner-sunflower · 2 days
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P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?
STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13
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Lilith: Sign the papers, Lucifer.
Lucifer: Wha- Why?
Lilith: I don't think- This needs to end now. We both knew it won't last for all eternity.
Lucifer: Lily?
Lilith: I'm leaving.
Lucifer: Lilith, please! Talk to me! At least tell me why! How about Charlie! Our daughter, Lily!
Lilith: It’s just better this way. Believe me. You’ll understand someday. And she will too.
Lucifer: Is this because you’re afraid I'll overshadow and control you? That I'll hurt you like Adam did? Because I won’t. Lilith, please. I love you so much. I can step down! You can be the sole ruler of hell is that's what you want. Please.
Lilith: Stop this, Lucifer. Don’t make this harder than it is.
Lucifer: I.....can’t stop you, can't I?
Lilith: No.
Lucifer: I guess you’re the one doing the hurting this time. Is that what you’ve wanted all along?
Lilith doesn’t respond. She leaves. 
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Lucifer awakens to the scent of Marigolds and the sound of strangled crying. He's vaguely aware of the weight of his body being cradled by someone, their tears falling onto his still form.
With a lot of effort on his part, he commands his vision to clear and the ringing in his ears to subside. Gradually, his surroundings comes into focus, revealing Charlie to be the one holding him, her face contorted with anguish that should never be present on his little girl's face.
'Who did that? Who made my Charlie cry?'
Her words tumble out in a frantic stream, but Lucifer struggles to respond, his voice caught in his throat. It dawns on him that Charlie isn't aware of his consciousness, her attention absorbed by her own distress.
Squinting against the haze of confusion, he realizes she's speaking to someone else entirely.
Charlie: A-angel hurry, please! I don't know what just happened. You're the number I- and I'm sorry please help me!
Lucifer can't hear what Angel was saying on the other end but they're muffled. Each unintelligible word seems to only worsen his daughter's tears, and oh, how he longs to comfort her.
Helplessness washes over him as he wishes to move, to reach out and wipe away his most precious' tears.
'That's what a good dad should do, right? Yeah. Yeah. It's kinda funny how Charlie is the one craddling me right now. I miss her baby days.'
He must have chuckled because Charlie whips her head down to him.
Charlie: Dad! You're awake! Thank you. You're okay, dad, don't worry. I- Angel, he's awake! I don't know! I just found him, oh god, Angel- I thought he-he-
There's frantic voices on the other line, the residents are all probably huddled in the phone attempting to calm Charlie down. Lucifer didn't get to hear what the overlapping voices were saying when the sanctuary's doors fly open revealing the radio demon.
Suddenly, the sanctuary's doors burst open, revealing Alastor. With a keen eye, he spots Lucifer and Charlie, and wasting no time before teleporting to their side in a blink, concern evident as he checks on them both.
Charlie: A-Al, thank god you're here. I- I
Alastor: My dear, you must calm yourself. Breathe.
Charlie: I can't!
Alastor: Yes you can. Count from a hundred backwards.
Charlie: 100, 99, 98.....80... I ca-can't please-
Charlie freezes as a gentle hand touches her cheek, prompting her to lower her gaze. With deliberate tenderness, he reaches for her hand, guiding it to his chest, positioning it over his heart. A silent reassurance pulses beneath her touch, the steady, calming rhythm of her father's heart.
Lucifer: I'm okay, duckie. Feel it. I'm okay. I'm breathing. I'm alive.
Charlie: D-dad.
Alastor: Match his breathing, dear.
After a minute, Charlie managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences. She reiterates what she walked in on earlier and Lucifer is horrified. His daughter shouldn't have seen that but he's also berating himself. He knew that he shouldn't have told Keekee that Charlie could come. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID-
A snap of a finger stops the start of another spiral.
Alastor: None of that. We will have a talk about this but first, let us go back to the hotel for now. It must be uncomfortable laying on a frozen floor, no?
The King of Hell wants to say something but he knows there's no arguing with a fretting Alastor. Charlie is already outside on the phone again, most likely talking to whoever was at the hotel or maybe the Sins. He's hoping she doesn't call them right away; they're bigger worrywarts than him.
Charlie: -no no. He's fine now We're going to take him back to the hotel. Yes. Yes. Of course. Maybe in a few hours? Yes, I'll call you after we check him over. Yes. Thank you, Aunt Bel.
He yelps in surprise as the radio demon picks him up and holds him bridal style.
Lucifer: What the hell you doing??
Alastor: Why, carrying you, my love!
Lucifer: I can walk just fine.
Alastor raised an eyebrow at this then promptly dropped him.
Lucifer: Ow! What the fuck?!
Alastor: That does not look like standing. Perhaps it's opposite day today?
Lucifer all but growls but knows he's got him there. With a groan, he relents, deciding that he's going to be complain all the way back if he can help it.
Lucifer: Fine.
Alastor: What was that~?
Lucifer: I said fine! Carry me you tacky piece of shit!
He's pouting but he doesn't care. He's the King of Hell for Father's sake! Why is he letting this man bully him??
Alastor only smiles as he picked him up again. At least someone is enjoying this humiliation.
The way Alastor is holding him is doing something to him and had Alastor always been this handsome??
They meet Charlie outside already with one of their limousines. Thankfully, no reporters are camping anymore around the palace or this will be another big scandal that will most likely damage his image. Not that he cares what people in Hell think of him but whatever they they perceive him as extends to Charlie and he's not going to give them any ammunition on her.
Charlie: You sure you're alright, Dad?
Lucifer: Yes, sweetheart. I just want to be in a bed right now.
Alastor: I could always teleport you there, my dear. Would be faster than this death contraption.
Lucifer: I will throw up on you.
Alastor's eye twitches but doesn't say anything back. They sit in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the ride.
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Alastor: Charlie, why don't you talk to the others and your uncles and aunts about your father's condition? I'll take his majesty up in his room. I'm sure the last thing he needs is to be bombarded with questions at this time.
Charlie: You're right. Thanks, Al.
Charlie squeezed Lucifer's hand in a silent reassurance.
Charlie: I'll follow you later, Dad. Love you.
Oh, how he loves her so.
Lucifer: Okay, duckie.
He almost threw up when Alastor teleported them up to his tower but before he could, the sinner put up a lemon tea up on his face. Muttering a small thanks, the King of Hell took a few sips before deciding to lay down.
Alastor is still not interrogating him but maybe the other can smell his exhaustion. No. The guy did not talk at all. He only moved to sit by his side, leaning back to the headrest. Lucifer takes this as an invitation to hug the other's waist like a bolster and snuggles closer. The Sin of Pride feels his partner's hand combing through his hair and humming an old tune.
He's afraid of seeing Roo again as he tightens his hold on Alastor. The other doesn't even flinch and Lucifer is glad. Alastor usually doesn't like touch so whenever the other allows it, Lucifer savors every second.
Lucifer: I won't blame you, you know?
Alastor: Hmm?
Lucifer: If it's too much. If you wanna leave, you can.
The hand in his hair stops moving but Alastor still said nothing.
Lucifer: I'll remember you though.
Sleep is calling him. He only wishes that he'll dream of nothing this time.
Lucifer: I remember everyone that leaves.
He passes out not hearing Alastor reply, words laced with a genuinity no one else had the privilege to hear.
Alastor: I can assure you, my king, I am not one to give up what I adore that easily.
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I adore that Lilo and Stitch line. It really struck me when I first watched it.
YT also played this Hour of Joy VHS tape and that background tune really gave me inspiration on some future scenes. So, stay tuned.
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zzoguri · 3 days
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persist and resist (but still, fail) ➵ lee juyeon
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lee juyeon x reader
all it takes is one phone call for you to realize what you could’ve had with juyeon
genre/warnings ➵ angst, almost lovers, long-distance but not-in-a-relationship, unspoken words/hidden signals, a lot of wondering of what could’ve been
word count ➵ 730 words
inspired by ➵ “the 1” by taylor swift, that one skype call in “past lives”
a/n ➵ very reminiscent of my upcoming jichang fic entitled “finger trapped (ripped to its seams)” but its taking a bit to pump out (and i'm very much in my feelings as we speak...) so bear with me and enjoy this drabble for now :33 do reblog and leave feedback!!
want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist
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it’s quiet uptown. as you smell the winter air, frozen kisses graze your cheeks. sounds of cars have been replaced with the buzzing of lamposts and flakes have taken raindrops’ role. on the snow-piled balcony, you hear the wood crackle behind you.
yet, warmth is stored in the voice on the other line.
“so, what’s it like there?” the rasp that accompanies juyeon’s words remind you of the time zone difference between you two. while it may be crack of dawn in korea, night has fallen at where you stand.
“you’ve asked that question how many times in this call.” a giggle leaves you. “you’re making me think that you never listen.”
a soft hum leaves him. “you know that’s not true.” your fingers grip on the blanket draped on your shoulders. “what are you up to?”
“damn, not even letting me answer the thousand questions you seem to have for me.”
“sorry,” he chuckles, “just never hear from you.”
for a moment, all you can do is sniffle.
“it’s quiet here. everyone’s off to see their families.” your hand reaches out to rail, writing the characters of his name on the snow, as you bask in the stillness of the town. “i like it like this.”
“like it like what?”
“when it’s not busy. it’s only during the winter time when you’ll barely hear a horn or chatter.” a smile makes its way to your lips. “kind of like when we’d sneak into school during the summer time.”
heat waves would do its best to tie you down then, draining you of any energy to enjoy the wonders of summer, but you and juyeon were drawn to adventures. while there would be trips to the mart to grab the familiar taste of chocolate popsicles or the playground you’ve bruised your knees at, the school seemed to call on your names. the empty hallways whispered the narratives of students who came before you two—you were certain that yours and juyeon’s story would be told, as well.
“god, i can’t believe we had so much time to waste then,” juyeon admits over the memory. only a hum leaves you. “i miss it.”
a beat passes.
“yeah, me too.” the whisper barely leaves you.
there’s a life in korea that you’ve lost—the quiet exchange of laughter during classes, the smell of fresh kkwabaegi fresh from the fryer, and the nights spent stargazing.
but in the life you have now—in the stillness of your room during midnights, the rush hours of your commute, the conservations you have with the locals—you can’t help but wonder, wonder, wonder. 
would you be in a 9-to-5 job at a corporate workplace or performing at sold-out venues? would you wake up early in the morning to bake or would you sleep in the comfort of your own bed? or would you go back to school and dive into the niche topics you’ve always wanted to explore?
but would you live alone in a different part of korea or travel around the world with him? would you wake up to the smell of freshly-cooked pancakes or microwaved fried rice from the night before? or would he latch to your body that’s reached the highest degrees, or would you make him soup during flu season? (he’s always had a weak immune system. did that change?) 
there’s a life in korea that you long for—and there’s a person that you’ve lost. if things were only different, maybe you’d have him for many orbits around the sun.
did he ever think of a life you two could’ve had?
“hey, i have to go,” you say.
“oh,” juyeon’s tone is laced with disappointment, “okay.”
for a moment, not a word is exchanged between you two.
“talk soon?” his question takes you by surprise.
you would’ve loved to agree—yes! i’ll make sure to come visit—but you only smile to yourself with held back tears.
“bye, juyeon.”
that was enough of an answer for him. “okay. bye.”
the call drops. the warmth that your phone held has disappeared. while it makes sense to retreat back into your flat, bask in the heat emitting from the fireplace and read the words of sylvia plath, you remain standing on the snow-piled balcony.
it didn’t matter what you two could’ve had. it didn’t matter if he wondered the same things.
but it could’ve been him—that’s all you know.
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perma taglist ➵ @deoboyznet@kflixnet@blankjournal@winterchimez@miusgirl@jenoscafe@sweet-unicorn-world@vernyangel@mosviqu@stealanity@deobi0412@blue-rainydays@maessseongs
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green-hoshi · 3 days
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Ravioli Ship Week Day Two - Sickfic/ Tender Care
“I won’t be home for lunch, don’t wait up.”
Link’s voice comes like a croak, and that was putting it lightly. Ravio rushes from the kitchen to block the way to the door. Link blinks at him slowly, unable to even muster a reaction. 
“Not like that you aren’t!”
Link thinks hard. Did he forget something? He pats at his hips where his sword is safely strapped on his belt. his bag is also dangling from his shoulder. Then, realization dawns on him.
“Sorry Bunny, I will be as quick as I can. I miss you already.”
And Link takes a step forward to kiss him. The merchant is flushed but stops him.
“No! Stupid hero! Look at you, you’re sick! You are not going anywhere!”
“It’s okay, I have my sword.”
Ravio squints at him.
“You don’t make any sense. The sword won’t help you when you collapse from exhaustion.”
“I mean, I could probably use the sword as a cane…”
Ravio sighs.
“...That’s not the point.”
Ravio leads him to their bed and tucks him in after helping him out of his boots. 
“But, what about the monsters in Lorule?” Link whines.
“Hilda and Zelda both have an army to do their bidding, I will make sure Sheerow informs them.”
After Yuga was defeated, Zelda and Hilda, being two powerful sorceresses, succeeded to create a sustainable portal between both of their worlds. It is nice to see the two kingdoms prosper from their new economic situation. Ravio is happy that he is not torn between his hometown and the life he shares with Link. But now Link also has two kingdoms to protect instead of one, and self-care is not really Link’s strong suit.  
“I want to protect your kingdom, Rav’. You can’t stop me from going.”
Ravio raises an eyebrow at him. 
“I literally just did, silly. I’m also locking the front door and keeping the only key.”
“Oh, for Nayru’s love, you are so smart.”
Link sounds so genuine that Ravio’s smirk disappears for a bashful and hard to contain smile.
“Alright, go to sleep already, the fever has you talking nonsense.”
“No, but it’s true. You’re so smart and pretty. I don’t tell you that enough. You’re amazing Bunny. You are the best—” 
He coughs loudly, Ravio winces at the nasty sound but strokes his boyfriend’s hair. Link leans into the touch.
“Aren’t you the sweetest? Let me take care of you for once, love.”
He leans to plant a kiss in his hair. Link feels himself melting and he is pretty sure it is not because of the fever.
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applebees4prez · 2 months
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i can’t wait for the coming out arc of literally every fantasy high character there are so many that seem imminent
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rube-too-many-fandoms · 8 months
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(Vent post; a bit of a downer, nothing too intense, just some self pity.)
(…Maybe don’t read if you don’t want to have a mental awakening about how sad simping really is.)
i have no social life
i have ONE friend that i consider a sibling
they have a job and friends outside of school
and the deeper i hyperfixate the more i realize how lonely i am. like wtf
i feel like i’ve betrayed myself
they’re here gushing about their real life crush and how they’re going on a date and quitting their job to work somewhere else
while i’m over here emerging from my little hermit shell gushing about people that don’t exist with bags under my eyes from staying up til 2 AM every night watching YouTube or scrolling tumblr
don’t get me wrong, i love tumblr so much, but when interacting with/making posts is the most social interaction i’ve had in weeks, i think there might be a problem
then after all of this self-reflection my ADD makes it hard to retain the attention span to improve my nonexistent social life
and the rest of my brain cells go “hyperfixation fun” and “characters pretty” and “tumblr funny”
fucking instant gratification monkey fr
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chknbzkt · 2 years
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Here she is, Lady M herself after like a week of being too busy to work on her 💀
She’s up to attack on artfight, or just ogle with your eyeballs u don’t have to draw her just please look at her I worked hard on her 🥺
Terrible influence on her younger siblings and metal head supreme, she’s going to come to your house and eat your Rice Krispies Treats TM. What are you going to do, stop her?
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oasisofgalaxies · 2 years
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Gonna be honest here, my dreams have been hyper realistic as of late. When I wake up I can tell that yea a tornado actively targeting me would never happen in real life, but at the time it feels really real. The only way I can tell the difference in a dream is by looking at a clock, clocks are never right in my dreams. They’re erratic, display things like 9:60, 13:40, or spin wildly if it’s analog.
And I think the scariest part of getting the news that Techno passed was the fifteen minutes I spent staring at my clock, begging it to be wrong.
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peachfruitcake · 1 year
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aayugh my god I already can’t wait for the next waltenews twf stream they’re so fun to take part in :•]]] !!
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ickadori · 5 months
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i dunnooo i feel like whenever you’re mean to yuji it turns him on, you’d be cursing him out nd he’d already be like half hard
I also feel like Yuji would beg to put it in😊
idk I just want him to throw me around
[cws] fem reader
[an] you get it!! i know it in my heart that yuji likes his partner to be a little mean :( a little spoiled, a little bratty! it makes it that much better when he finally gets you to be his sweet mushy baby that’s only that way with him !!
yuji knows that you have a bit of an attitude problem, and he knows that he probably enables it, never once chiding you for the way you speak and act with him.
you drag him shopping with you whenever the urge strikes, which is worryingly frequent, and shove bag after bag into his arms, not even so much as uttering a thank you, just fully expecting him to be your human pack-mule.
whenever he gives another woman his attention, even if for something as simple as giving out directions, you’re shooting daggers his way and refusing to speak to him, answering him with huffs and hmphs until you deem him worthy enough for actual words.
it’s mean, you’re mean, and he should really say something about it and get it under control… but he can’t deny that the spoiled, bratty act gets his cock hard and his brain fuzzy.
“god, yuji! it’s like you have a bunch of rocks up there or something!” your finger taps against his forehead twice as you bend at the waist, and he silently looks up at you, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed as his cock chubs up against his thigh. “it’s as if everything i say just goes in one ear and out the other, you never listen.”
you’ve got one hand on your hip, the other animatedly moving around as you talk a mile a minute, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes narrowed on him.
yuji has no idea what you’re saying, but he knows he’s heard this spiel a thousand times before and isn’t missing out on anything too important - at least, nothing more important than how badly he wants to stuff you full of his cock until you’re sputtering out apologies and drowning him in kisses.
you always get so sweet and pliant when he’s fucked you full—cunt full of his seed and hole left gaping. you make sure to cradle him close and kiss all over his face, hands running through his hair as you whisper i’m sorry’s into his skin.
“—doing it again! yuji, you’re not listening to me!” he zones back in just in time to see your hand coming towards him. “you’re so annoying. just go home—!” he snags ahold of your wrist, and with a gentle tug you’re falling forward into his lap, your hands shooting out to brace yourself against his chest, while his move to encircle around your waist, arms flexing and tensing as they pull you close, his aching cock pushing up into your cunt, thin layers of fabric keeping him from sinking inside.
“i’m sorry,” he rasps, your lashes fluttering as you give him a bewildered look. “let me make it up to you, yeah?” realization dawns after a moment, and you shake your head, hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.
“huh? no, yuji, i was—oh.” he rocks his hips into you, hands moving down to palm your ass, a cheek in each hand.
“please?” he croaks, cock aching and leaking and throbbing and begging to go where it belongs. “can i put it in? can i fuck you? can i make you come, baby? can i?” he rocks against you with every question, his forehead resting against yours as he holds your gaze. “let me show you how sorry i am, baby. let me make it right.”
and you give in, you always do, his sweet pliant girl. he just has to get his hands on you first, tell you what you need to hear, sit you on his cock and make you come a few times, maybe even get you to squirt depending on if he wants you to be nicer for a couple days.
it won’t last but so long, that little honeymoon phase you two go through every time yuji gets between your legs, but he’s already looking forward to the next time.
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steddiecameraroll · 5 months
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ao3
What if Steve’s the one painfully pining thinking Eddie is straight.
Eddie unaware but happy he and Steve became friends after everything.
Eddie oblivious to how Steve’s cheeks turn pink when he gives Steve the blinding dimple laden smile.
Eddie blissfully living his life, eating Steve’s snacks at movie nights, and riding along in the car when the kids get dropped off at the arcade.
And months go by. Long torturous months where Steve (or really Robin) is sure he’s developing an ulcer because he always has a stomach ache.
Until Steve finally decides he can’t do this to himself any longer. He thought at least having Eddie in his life was better than not. But his heart hurts constantly and if he doesn’t cut Eddie out of his life, he knows it’ll never heal.
So he stops accepting the invitations to hang out. Comes up with excuse after excuse until Eddie stops asking.
He stops engaging in the conversations when Dustin or Lucas talk about that week’s campaign or this amazing thing Eddie did.
And he’s… fine.
Sure maybe when he’s trying to fall asleep some (most) nights he wonders if Eddie ever went to that new music store. Or if he ever found out if his weird neighbor was poisoning the stray cats or not.
He acts like the fact Eddie seems to be unfazed about the whole thing, isn’t the most painful thing ever. That Steve vanishing from Eddie’s inner circle didn’t even generate an annoying little blip for him to question it.
It’s fine.
He’s fine.
Until one seemingly innocuous afternoon, when Steve is at the Hallmark store picking up a birthday gift for his mom. He’s holding something with a generic motivational quote in his hands when a bang hits the store window to Steve’s left.
He jumps at the sound and turns immediately, his body poised in a defensive stance, when his eyes register what he’s seeing.
Eddie Munson with both palms smashed against the window gawking at Steve. The man’s eyes are wide and his mouth is open and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.
Steve catches his breath when he realizes he’s not in any danger, and he gives Eddie one of those mouth pressed smiles and a small nod. It’s been so long since they’ve seen each other Steve has to pretend it’s not causing him physical pain.
Then Eddie starts side stepping toward the entrance. He’s keeping his body facing Steve through the glass like he’s afraid if he looks away Steve will evaporate.
Steve knew he wouldn’t get away with never seeing Eddie again, but he had been hoping. He’s trying to ignore the desire to turn heel and find a back exit, and thinks maybe Eddie will just wanna say hi. Maybe Steve will only have to endure five minutes of interaction and they’ll go their own merry way.
“Steve!” Eddie says a little too loudly.
“Hey, man.” Steve smiles and hopes it looks friendly.
“Where have you been?” Eddie moves to stand directly in front of Steve, basically blocking him against the display table he’d been in front of.
“What do you mean?” Steve swallows a lump as he watches Eddie’s face twist into an expression of bewilderment.
“You kinda fell off the face of the earth, man. I was next door at Radio Shack and was headed to my van and thought I saw a figment of my imagination through the glass.” Eddie’s eyes suddenly dart around as of their surroundings just dawned on him. “Um…I kinda need…I’ve been thinking…can we, uh, talk? Somewhere more private?”
Steve’s mind starts flipping through possibilities of why Eddie can’t just say what he wants to say. It sounds ominous and he guesses they should get this over with. Maybe after this he’ll never have to worry about seeing Eddie ever again.
“We could go to my van? If-if you were ok with that?” Eddie quickly tacks on the last sentence.
“Sure?” Steve shrugs, sets the unimportant birthday gift on the table, and follows a step or two behind Eddie.
Eddie keeps glancing over his shoulder like he assumes Steve will dart out from behind him and book it across the parking lot. It’s making Steve nervous.
Eddie moves to the back of his van and unlocks the door, pulling it open and motioning to Steve to sit down. Steve cautiously slides his butt back onto the van, letting his legs dangle over the bumper, in case he needs to make a quick exit.
When Eddie sits down there’s an awkward amount of space between them. Steve ignores how the distance physically shows how much has changed between them.
“I…uh,” Eddie sighs then lolls his head back staring upward.
Steve can tell he’s trying to collect himself before continuing.
“Sorry, man.” Eddie chuckles nervously giving Steve a weak smile. “I wasn’t planning on doing this today so just trying to organize my thoughts.”
Steve is about three seconds away from vomiting all over the nearby asphalt. This is awful.
“I just…” Eddie turns his head to look at Steve. He looks pained, like whatever he’s about to say may crush Steve.
It probably will.
“I wanted to apologize, for…whatever it is I did. I know I’m obnoxious sometimes.” He rolls his eyes “Jeff tells me to chill out constantly.”
Steve pinches his eyebrows in confusion.
“I miss hanging out and seeing you, but I get it. You don’t give a shit about D&D or any of the other stupid things I talk about. I probably forced it and you are just too good of a dude to say anything. But that’s ok… I’ve done a lot of thinking…lately. You helped, sorta, expose something…about myself that I didn’t know.” He sighs before continuing. “I mean, I guess in theory I knew, but I just thought everyone felt like that.”
Steve feels like he’s traversing a perilous hike without a map right now, totally and completely lost.
Eddie clears his throat and fiddles with his skull ring. “I miss you. I mean, hanging out with you.”
Steve stares, unsure what to say. He probably looks like he’s short circuiting right now, because he doesn’t understand.
It’s been weeks, months even, and he never reached out. He never called or stopped by Steve’s place but he’s talking like it’s been killing him this whole time.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie cocks his head.
“You missed me?”
“Yeah, of course.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Why wouldn’t I? We used to hang out all the time, Steve. I saw you more than I saw Wayne, most days.”
“Why didn’t you ever call me then?”
“Did you want me to?” Eddie laughs awkwardly. “You stopped wanting to do anything. I figured you didn’t want to see me, it was pretty obvious. I was trying to respect your wishes, dude.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say.
Eddie kicks his feet a little while he keeps his eyes pointed down at the parking lot.
“Oh,” Steve’s heart breaks for a different reason this time. “You didn’t do anything, by the way. It’s not your fault. I just needed to focus and get my shit together. My dad bitching about college again and I needed a new job. I was just sort of…distracted.”
By you
“Oh, you coulda said something. This whole time I thought you hated me. That’s a fucking relief.” Steve can sense Eddie’s entire body relax next to him.
“Opposite really,” he mutters under his breath.
“What’d you say?” Eddie leans in, his face shifting to seriousness.
“Oh nothing,” he brushes off. “Ignore me.”
“Opposite?” Eddie’s voice is pitched.
Steve’s stomach drops.
“No-no, um…”
Steve puts his palms on the floor of the van and pushes himself out of the van. He wipes his palms on his jeans. He needs to get out of here.
“I gotta go, uh, it was good seeing you, man. Um,” he wants to suggest hanging out but he can’t say the words. “Bye.”
Steve gives a finger wave and wants to smack himself in the face for how stupid it looks. He power walks away from Eddie’s van toward his car. He can get out of here unscathed.
“NO! Steve! Wait, wait,” Eddie’s chasing close behind Steve.
Steve fumbles with his keys as he tries to unlock his car door.
“Me too!”
Steve stops, his hands hovers over the door handle. Did he hear Eddie correctly?
Eddie approaches cautiously. “Me too,” he repeats quietly. “Opposite. You-that was the thing. The thing I figured out. This was it.”
Steve turns slowly.
“I missed you, Steve.” Eddie’s eyes are big and bright as if someone handed him a Christmas present. “I missed you, more than I should’ve probably. Definitely more than…a friend would.” He shrugs and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth.
Steve’s ears are ringing. The planet has shifted, he’s sure of it. Is Eddie saying what he’s been craving from the man for almost two years?
“Opposite,” Eddie whispers.
“Opposite,” Steve echoes.
“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Eddie says gently.
Steve’s eyebrows shoot up and he stumbles back thunking his elbow against the car window. “Ow, shit.”
“Are you ok?” Eddie steps forward, reaching a hand out but avoiding touching Steve.
“Yeah,” he rubs his hand over it. “Do you-do you wanna come over? My parents aren’t home. Won’t be until Thursday.”
“That’s four days away, Steve. Are you suggesting I’ll be at your house for four days?” He twists his mouth in a sly smirk.
“Maybe, if we needed it.” Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest pleasantly now.
Eddie blushes and ducks his head. Steve can tell the man’s holding himself back.
“You coming?” Steve tilts his head.
“Fuck, I hope so,” Eddie growls.
coffee? ☕️🍩💕
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𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆; 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒚
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; tommy notices your pregnancy before you do
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the night was calm, the moon casting a soft silvery glow through the curtains of the room you and tommy shared. as the streets outside murmured with the remnants of the day, you lay in bed, shifting and turning. the sheets rustled as you tried to find a comfortable position, your restlessness a silent symphony in the dimly lit room.
lying next to you, tommy couldn’t help but notice. his gaze followed the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers absently brushed against the fabric of your shy pink nightie.
after a moment, tommy propped himself up on an elbow, his brow furrowing with a careful mixture of annoyance and concern. you glance at your husband, eyes meeting his icy ones in the quiet of the night.
“can’t sleep?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur that carried a depth of understanding for your situation.
you sighed, a hint of frustration tugging at your tender lips. “it’s like i can’t get comfortable. oh tommy, i’ve been tossing and turning all night.”
tommy reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “something botherin’ you, angel?”
you hesitated, gaze holding his for a moment longer before you shook your head. “i just … can’t get comfortable,” you whine, pouting your lips.
he opens his arms for you and you lean into his comfortable embrace. albeit, it was much easier to feel lulled with him beside you. it was a delicacy that had become so fleeting within a few months of marriage. usually he'd come to bed after you'd fallen asleep, and woke before you started to stir.
as the silence lingered, tommy’s gaze softened, his eyes tracing the soft slopes of your face. in that moment, a realization seemed to settle over him, piece by piece, like a puzzle coming together.
“love,” he began slowly, his voice a mix of tenderness and curiosity. “i’ve been noticing things lately. changes.”
you met his gaze, your curiosity piqued. “changes?”
tommy’s fingers brushed against your flushed cheek, his touch gentle as he spoke. “you’ve been feeling sick over certain smells, right? complaining about the food in the kitchen?”
you blinked, clearly taken aback by his sudden but astute observations. “that’s true.”
“ and i’ve noticed you’ve been tired. more than usual,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on your skin
you nodded slowly, a mixture of surprise and curiosity dawning in your eyes. “i’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open lately.”
tommy paused, his gaze searching yours before he spoke again, his voice softer. “and there’s the restlessness. tossing and turning all night.”
your breath caught as the realization dawned on you, and you met his gaze with a swirling mixture of emotions.
“tommy, what are you…?”
you trail off as his fingers trace your silky nightie that had once fit just right around your curves but was now becoming snug around your waist. his fingers slid down to cup your gently rounded tummy, his touch light and deliberate.
“your hips,” he said, his voice a hushed murmur. “they’re different now. rounder. as well as your tummy…”
you blushed, your nervous laughter a mixture of shyness and surprise. “oh, so you’ve noticed that?”
you'd figured it had something to do with the way you've been indulging lately. you were thankful your husband chose not to mention your newfound voracious appetite. you were ashamed of how unladylike your eating habits had become, especially on nights when your husband didn't accompany you to dinner.
his gaze held yours, his smile tender as he continued to trace over your softer tummy. “couldn’t very well miss it now, could i?”
tommy’s thumb brushed against your knuckles, his touch a reassuring anchor once he sees you flush at his teasing. “don’t worry, angel, it suits you.”
you smile shyly and bury your face into his shoulder. a moment passes and tommy speaks again.
his fingers brushed against your stomach as he spoke, “i think i might know what’s going on, love.”
a beat of silence passes, then, you realize what your husband could be hinting at.
"yeah?" you breathe, staring into your husband's eyes to confirm your suspicions. you'd figured that you might've been carrying when your monthly had failed to arrive for a second month in a row, but it didn't quite register as a concern until tommy had started to notice.
"i think you're expecting." his words are tender, both of you sharing a moment of silent revaluation.
"tommy..."
you hadn't been trying for a baby, though neither of you were opposed to the idea of children. you'd discussed it on your wedding night, and tommy had promised that he'd give you as many children as you wanted under the humble request that he'd be able to have a year to spend with just his wife before adding any new additions.
“i understand if you’re not happy about this, i know you said you—”you begin to ramble, but get cut off by your husband pressing a stern finger over your lips to prevent any more anxious words from waltzing out.
“shh, love,” he murmurs, “‘m happy about it.” your can feel your eyes fill with tears at his words. mood swings already, you think, how did he notice before you did?
“truly?” you look up into his eyes to see a familiar tenderness, reserved only for you and now apparently your child.
he sighs happily and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead.“truly.”
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄Simon has himself a merry little Christmas - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge
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Simon opens his eyes to an empty bed on Christmas morning.
His breath catches in his chest when his hand slides across the sheets, instinctively seeking the warmth of your body, only to discover your side of the bed empty. 
His rational, tactical, professional mind tells him you've probably just gotten up with the baby. That for some reason, he slept too deeply and didn't wake up when she did this morning, like he usually does. You're in the guest room, Emmaline's room, now, or in the kitchen. Maybe you're already drinking your first cup of coffee. You're fine. The baby is fine. Nothing is wrong. 
But his heart... his heart screams. Terror ices his veins, adrenaline and fear taking control of his gross motor skills, legs twisting beneath him as he stumbles out of bed and races for the door. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine-
“Sweetheart?” His voice betrays him. He sounds stressed, anxiety piquing, frantically turning the corner into the kitchen. Not again, he can’t do this again, this can’t happen again… 
It’s empty. The front door is still locked, and so is the patio’s, twinkling Christmas tree glowing in the late dawn light. His mind splits. Check Emmaline’s room, they’re probably in there, get control of yourself… and… the glock 19 is closest, should still be under the top shelf, call Price, mobilize the team- 
“Simon?” He whirls at the sound of your voice, air rushing out of his lungs, drawing into a relieved laugh. Emmaline is on your hip in a green, white, and red striped elf costume, complete with a pointed hat, jingle bell dangling from the top. “Morning.” You smile, and so does the baby. “Santa’s elf wanted to surprise you.” You’re still a little sleepy, eyes tired, and he does a double take when he realizes you’re in your underwear and one of his t shirts. 
“I’m… surprised.” Bloody hell. His brain isn’t working, his mouth rendering him stupid, still caught in fight or flight, and your lips subtly twist before your eyes soften, realization soft across your features. 
“Are you okay?” You question, and he nods, not trusting himself to not say something else moronic, flailing in the silence, failing. It’s been weeks since he’s felt like this, inept, clumsy, senseless, too easily settled into a life with you after that pipe burst in your flat and practically delivered him a holiday miracle, a treasure deposited right into his lap. “Here,” you push Emma into his arms, soft fingers over top his as you hand her off, looking up at him with that level trust, adoration that you’re always providing him, in your eyes. Just holding Emmaline settles the anxiety in his heart, soothes the raw buzzing that’s tearing through his head, and you smile, butting your head into his shoulder and placing a kiss there. “Will you take her while I get dressed?” 
“Yeah.” He croaks, as you squeeze his forearm, turning away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, stopping you in your tracks. He wants to tell you he thinks he loves you; he thinks he’d die without you; he thinks you’re the greatest thing he’s ever had, ever held, thinks you saved him, but nothing comes out. You hold his gaze for a second, and then two, before whispering.
“I know… me too.” Of course you do. You pause, cocking your head. “Could you make some coffee? Gonna be a long day.” You raise an eyebrow towards the Christmas tree, where all of Emma’s gifts sit perfectly arranged, and he nods. He can do that.
“Just three scoops of this,” he tells Emma, portioning out the coffee into the filter as she babbles at him from her perch in his other arm. “Mama likes it pretty strong, doesn’t she? And then some water, like this.” He pours the pitcher into the machine’s reservoir, flicking on the power and listening to the gurgle as he makes his way to the couch. He bounces Emma on his knee, little hands waving in the air, trying to grab the end of her hat and gnaw on it. The tree sparkles behind her, lights and ornaments all aglow, and she giggles when she tips herself forward, planting onto his chest with both hands. “Easy, baby girl.” Rolling onto her back in the crook of his arm, she squirms, smiling up at him, finger extended towards his chin. “What is it, eh?” He leans, and she pokes his cheek, cooing with a satisfied grunt. She fits so naturally in his side, just like you do, and he settles into the cushions, relaxing, allowing her to explore, tactile touch padding across his face, little fingernails scratching at his stubble.
“You two look cozy.” You murmur with a yawn, cup of coffee steaming in your palms. He smiles, and Emma lifts her head to look for you, tracking the sound of your voice. You perch at his other side, knees tucking up next to his hip, nestling your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing Emmaline’s cheek. “Whatcha doing sweet pea?” He brushes a kiss across the top of your head, and you sigh, arm wrapping around his stomach. "This is nice."
"It is." He agrees. It's more than nice, it's everything. Everything he didn't know was possible, everything he didn't know he wanted. It's nice, spending Christmas with his girls, cuddled up together on his couch in front of a Christmas tree that's loaded with presents for the baby. A Christmas, the holiday he used to shun… now brought back to life by you. Nice is a good word to describe it, but others flit through his mind as well: perfect, redeeming, salvation.
Purpose.
He takes a ragged breath, and you lean back to look at him, waiting.
"It's more than nice, sweetheart, it's... I... never thought, never dreamed this could happen in my life. You and Emmaline, you're... everything to me." He pauses, cradling your face, watching how your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I want," he swallows the lump in his throat. "I want you to stay. I want you to be here. Always." He needs you to stay, needs you like he needs air to breathe, needs you like he's never needed, never wanted, anything before in his life. He'd give you the world, if he could, wrap it up nicely and put it beneath the tree, but he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain.
He's grateful he doesn't have to.
"I'll be here, Simon. I'll be right here. With you." You take his hand, clutching onto him tightly. It's selfish, what he wants. Stupid. But he's not a good man... he's yours, and he'll be as wicked, as awful as he must to keep you and Emmaline safe. You're the only good thing about him now, and he'd dig himself free from a shallow grave all over again, just to crawl home to you. You've changed him, deeply. Fundamentally. Taught him the truth of love, of healing, your grief not so much different from his own, and he knows he'd die for you, he'd die for you ten thousand times.
Emmaline babbles at the sound of your voice, and you smile at her, not bothering to wipe away the tear that tracks down your cheek. "We're here. We'll stay. As long as you want us."
And christ, if that isn't the best Christmas gift he's ever be given.
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kuromochimi · 2 months
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baby I’m nothing like your broke ex
gojo satoru, nanami kento
Content warnings: mentions of past toxic relationships, not proof read
🔜 suguru geto, kamo choso, higuruma hiromi
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Gojo Satoru
Satoru was rich. Like rich RICH. You first noticed this the moment you met him when you spilled coffee on his shirt then offered to buy him a new one instead. Instant regret when you realized that his shirt was worth more than your entire closet combined.
Being in a relationship with him was… well it was an adjustment. You lived a fairly simple life before you met him. It wasn’t a bad life. You still got to spend on your wants here and there but you had to budget such things much like any other common person had to. On the other hand, the word budget was non-existent to satoru especially when it came to you. He quite literally gave you everything. A few weeks into the relationship though, he had noticed how reluctant you were to accept his presents. You didn’t seem uncomfortable, just.. reluctant. He toned down a bit after this realization. But god he just couldn’t figure out why you were almost unwilling to accept anything at all from him, even food, even a ride home, even his hoodie which he already said you could keep. “Baby” he called to which you responded by looking his way. “Why do you never want to accept my presents?” He asked before he got up to approach you, immediately hugging you from the back as soon as you were within reach. “Hmm it’s not that I don’t want to.. it’s just.. you have to let me get used to these things first, okay?” satoru raised his brow “baby I know that shitty ex of yours can’t come close to how much I spoil you but was he that stingy?” at first satoru was only joking but your silence meant it was probably true. “So he was?” He asked as his chin was resting on your shoulder. “Come on satoru, he’s a thing of the past. He doesn’t matter anymore, ‘kay?” You tried your best to steer away from having to tell your boyfriend in detail but he’s right. Your ex was stingy as hell. It’s not like you ever asked for anything too much in fact, you don’t ever remember asking for anything at all. All the times he had to pick you up, he asked for gas money which seemed fair enough but it wasn’t just that. The man loved going on and extravagant dates but was never willing to fish out more than gas money. He adored receiving presents from you but could never be bothered to get you even the cheapest flowers. He used to say that he was just saving up to be able to give you the life you deserve but 8 years of having to sustain the luxurious lifestyle of a bum just made you snap hence, the break up. Satoru’s tightening embrace woke you from that little flashback. “Okay baby, I’ll make sure to spoil you but don’t hesitate to tell me if I go overboard hm? Love you” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and god, you felt so lucky to have found such a good man.
Nanami Kento
It quite literally took years of yearning for nanami to be finally able to date you. He was your junior in university and your junior at work as well. All that time, he had to witness you be head over heels for your then boyfriend, another one of his seniors. He thought the man might have put a spell on you because for the love of god, he could not see what kept you with the jerk for so long. Having observed your relationship from when he was a college freshman up to when he was a work colleague, your ex never even tried to mask how selfish he was with you. The man dawned expensive watches and drove a not so cheap car, he loved going to expensive places with his friends but with you? He wouldn’t hesitate to pass you the bill (like 85% of the time) whenever you went on dates, bought you nothing but cheap jewelry and quality reject flowers just because they were cheaper. Even worse, he also let you take the crowded train home everyday despite him driving to and from work everyday. He just couldn’t be bothered to pick you up because your workplace was “too far” and gas was expensive. If he really was struggling, it wouldn’t have been a problem but any person could see that he was more than capable of treating you better. He just didn’t want to.
Dating nanami was like a breath of fresh air. It’s not like you were materialistic in the first place but receiving pretty flowers and having someone make sure you’s comfortable and safe felt so heartwarming. On top of that, nanami didn’t make it feel like he was obligated to do any of that. He just genuinely wanted to care for you. It was all new to you that you even had to ask him to stop spoiling you too much, you felt bad accepting all that he was giving. “I know you don’t need them and I know you’re capable but let me do these things for you, hm?” Was what he’d always say and despite bot being able to voice it out to him yet, there is so much love in you knowing that it was possible to be treated this way. With so much care and love and concern.
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months
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Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.
Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day
—Digging Gaze
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞
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You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt. 
Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason. 
A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance. 
So that left you here. 
You were pregnant. 
You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test. 
Pregnant.
It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course. 
But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.
And you wouldn’t put this on him.
At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face. 
“Johnny?” You ask, blinking. 
The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.
“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—” 
The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave. 
“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.” 
You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”
Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant. 
Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.
“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”
“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”
“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you. 
“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”
“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”
“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”
“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”
“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”
In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.
And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.
Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.
The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else. 
You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink. 
“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.
Damn that Scot.
“Eight and a half,” you say quietly. 
Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause. 
“When’s the next appointment—”
“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”
Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you. 
Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.
“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.
“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”
“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.” 
“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”
“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…”
Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.
A daughter. 
But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either. 
This was new territory.
“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath. 
“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”
“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”
“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.
You had more self-respect than that.
“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer. 
Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon. 
You frown. 
You huff.
And you open the door wider.
“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”
The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.
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saetoru · 9 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SPRING — NANAMI KENTO.
contents. domesticity with nanami after moving in together. aka brushing your teeth. aka staring at him shamelessly as he does mundane tasks. (me writing someone other than gojo or geto ???? whatttttt :O)
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it doesn’t hit you that you and kento now live together until the the morning after the first night.
it’s spring. there are flowers you want to keep in your balcony sitting in your living room, the box labeled dishes is half empty from only what you took out for dinner, and you aren’t quite sure where your clothing box is because you forgot to label it. but kento is handsome next to you in the bathroom, shirtless as he brushes his teeth.
there are two sinks—one for you and one for him, but you opt for brushing your hip against his and sharing one. he doesn’t say anything, just scoots a little to the side and rinses his mouth as he makes room for you.
“please stop staring,” he mumbles tiredly, “it’s getting awkward.”
“you look handsome,” you pout, “i can’t admire you?”
“i’m brushing my teeth,” he deadpans.
“yes, a very handsome sight. i love seeing your care for dental hygiene.”
kento sighs, grabbing the small towel from the side and patting his face dry as you lean down and spit, rinsing your own mouth and plopping your toothbrush back in place. next to his.
and your face wash is beside his too, and so is your shampoo and body wash in the shower. you step to the side, bumping hips with him again as you grin—it’s ecstatic, the expression on your face.
“kento, i just realized something,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his jaw. it’s smooth, the feeling of his skin under your lips—you watched him shave earlier, sat on the counter and swung your legs as he carefully ran the razor along his skin.
“and what’s that?” he asks, patting your face with the towel, gently wiping away the droplets of water with extra care.
“we live together now—and i can watch you brush your teeth every day,” you grin.
“we shared a bed last night,” he raises a brow, “i’m sure you realized a bit before this that we now share a living space.”
wrong.
your home isn’t put together yet—you couldn’t find your pajamas last night, so you wear kento’s. the coffee machine still hasn’t been taken out and plugged in yet, and breakfast is currently limited to cereal and fruit that doesn’t need to be cut until the kitchen utensils have been organized. your couch hasn’t arrived yet, and your bed is currently just a mattress on the floor until the bed frame is delivered.
it doesn’t really dawn on you that you and kento are living together until you wake up with his chest under your cheek and his breath fanning against your forehead. sure, you and kento have spent nights at each other’s apartments—but that always results in one rising before the other to leave early and make up for the extra distance in the commute to work.
today, however, you and kento are home together. it’s spring—you can hear cicadas calling and see the buds blooming in the plants outside. there are flowers waiting to be potted in your balcony, and fresh strawberries of the season waiting for you in the kitchen.
and when you watch kento take his time and brush his teeth, hip accidentally bumping against yours as he leans down to rinse his mouth, you realize your home is with kento now.
you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “well, we’ve shared a bed before,” you kiss delicately at the slant of his jaw again, “but i’ve never seen you shirtless and brushing your teeth.”
“this new obsession is scaring me,” he mumbles, “what’s so special about me brushing my teeth?”
“oh, kento,” you grin, warm and bright and as fresh as the first breeze of spring, “it’s certainly a sight. you just have to see it.”
he hums, shaking his head gently as he chuckles in that soft, calm little way that he does. his arms find your waist.
your bathroom, even with missing shower curtains, feels like it’s always been yours. it feels natural, living with kento, it feels natural sharing a towel to wipe your face and leaving the door unlocked for the other to come in as you prepare for the morning.
“i have my own sight,” he murmurs, tracing your cheek as his hand cups your face, “you look lovely when you drool in your sleep.”
“kento,” you whine with a pout, “don’t watch me sleep.”
“how could i not?” he grins, brown eyes bordering on hazel as they brighten, “it’s the best new part of my mornings.”
he kisses you there, in the bathroom you still have to finish setting up, the tiles cool beneath your feet and his lips warm against your mouth.
it’s spring when you move in with kento—and you have a newfound appreciation for the season.
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guess who wants to brush her teeth in the mornings with nanamin. it might be me. it might be my undying need for domesticity. it might be my deep desire to witness him spit. it might be both. i haven’t decided yet
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