#just chewing on things absently

[snackugaki]

.... i have been so normal about wanting to draw tactical!Venus and tactical!Jennika.

hey. HEY. y’all need to go check out @donathan ‘s artwork, and if you are the proper age, go throw some money into their patreon for some... some real, real good art. 👀👀👀 ...but do not if you are a minor, that shit ain’t for you.

some IDW TMNT comic spoilers... and.... I guess... Next Mutation ssspoilers? I know some of you kids haven’t turtled up and watched my beloved childhood iteration yet.

alright, so, y’know, completely normal expenditure of my energy and skillset, amirite? big big thanks to @/donathan for allowing me to play around in their AU’s aesthetic because I have severe, terminal VenusAndJennikaDeserveEverythingoccocal SoIWillManifestItMyselfitis.

and tbh, all y’all’s fics have been, mwah, chef’s kiss. but SOME of you put LORE. delicious, tasty, appetite-inducing lore.

and i am nothing but the littlest hoebag for lore.

okay so, quick rundown for those who both A) are immune to spoilers B) also do not know Venus or Jennika’s origins-- bulletpoint time~!

So Venus de Milo, the “girl turtle”, the “fifth turtle” (not counting April’s extremely brief stint as a white-bandana’d turtle in the Archie comics run) was introduced in 1997′s Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation

An episode of “The Toys That Made Us” touched upon Venus’ creation so idk it’ll cover what I won’t deign to acknowledge.

her backtory is interesting (just her show was a trashfire /affectionate)

Master Splinter’s frolicking around in the dreamscape where all the cool enlightened old people hang out away from teenagers, right?

but oh no! dragon lord, a bad dude with a widow’s peak to rival Vegeta Dragonball’s widow’s peak; is there too! stomping around, ruining shit!

Splinter’s dreamscape buddy Chung I warns Splinter to stay out of the dreamscape ‘cuz Dragon Lord’s around

And like in true old people fashion, just ignores his friend’s admonition and tries to investigate himself

bad choice, womp womp

Splinter gets trussed up and rendered “stuck” in the dreamscape

cue the catalyst for Venus to make the 10+ flight from China to the U.S

don’t worry about what the boys were doing, just literal surfing in sewer grey water, breaking their little turtle skulls on cinderblocks, and picking fights in warehouses with Foot clan goons

tl;dr Venus still has Sixth Ranger mode on, so naturally she whoops all of their asses in the dark, ties them up (like how some of y’all enjoy writing Leo does huhu nudgenudge winkwink)

venusistheoriginalshibarienthusiastandteadrinkerfightme

and then, y’know, it’s still the 90s and children’s television so blah blah the usual “oH My gOd a GiRL tURTle???/?? AWoooOOogaaa ga ga ga” 

it’s.... I mean, i’m 38 so it no longer strikes me as bad as just really fucking embarrassing... for them. to be written saying. fuck, at least they didn’t make her bandana color pink.

so fast forward to Venus teaching them to dreamwalk so they can go rescue Splinter from Dragon Lord’s clutches in the dreamscape.

unfortunately, Dragon Lord offscreen murders Chung I so Venus is narratively anchorless post-rescue, so she’s invited to stay with them. thus ensues wacky hijinks with their new pal, Venus Boom Boom de Milo.

I glossed over the urge to write a cumulative review of Next Mutation. Just, take my word as the target demographic of the show during the last gasps of 90s Turtlemania that TNM was a trashfire overall but... y’know... if you ever needed a palette cleanser after some grimdark or angsty TMNT content, give TNM a whirl. The slapstick was intentional and The Point in the show. Venus’ circumstances for coming was as serious as it would get.

... Also, yes, they made them not related in TNM, preteen snackugaki didn’t clock why because I watched a lot of wuxia as a kid so brotherhood is a term beyond blood ties to me (and if I’m being honest, martial brotherhood is fkkn metal) and later I heard tell that it was to lure more girls into the franchise with both a girl turtle and romance options. which idk whatevs man. 

I also have to clear that, actually no, Donatello and Venus did not fight EVERY episode. Donatello, despite sprinkling a little too much barely disguised snobbery, did defer to Venus’ expertise in “the supernatural” when the situation called for it, and Venus would commend Donnie on his scientific ingenuity. They even teamed up skillsets to create surveillance drones! She essentially casted Calm Emotions on him while he tried to hack the controls of the Astro Megaship back for the In Space Rangers. They breached the divide between STEM and Humanities! They only had one “real fight" near the end of the season-- because Donnie was playing his containment breach elevator mid trash copyright strike immune proto-EDM too loud while she was trying to meditate. and that’s just being bad roommates tbh.

...christ I know it’s gonna come up too, but also NO, there was not constant advances made toward Venus during the show. At most was Mikey pulling his ol’ “I work out every day~!” schtick for like 2 episodes of the 5 spent to introduce Venus. And then after? A shipper’s desert, you’d have to dig and peer behind like 8 curtains for any viable fodder. 

...OKAY NOW FOR JENNIKA’S ORIGINS: Jennika is an IDW character specifically so, naturally why she isn’t in (or would’ve been, AHEM) a lot of iterations yet (or at all, COUGH) (but to continue in honesty there’s a lot of legal tape to cut through since Jennika is IDW’s while TMNT overall is Nick’s) Introduced as a Foot Assassin, her place in the Foot Clan shifts when Splinter takes over from Shredder (Saki), eventually she forms actual bonds with both the turtles and Splinter to where it’s implied she also saw him as an important figure to her if not an outright surrogate father figure. And because TMNT is mess and drama the other 50% of the time, Karai takes over the Foot from Splinter and shenanigans compounded by Karai’s then-current machinations for the Foot-- results in Jennika getting shanked in the stomach by Karai during a clandestine meeting to resolve clan rivalry. She’s losing blood fast, Donnie works to save her and it’s Leo who volunteers for blood transfusion to keep her stable mid-transit. 

SURPRISE!

Leo’s blood mutates Jennika into a mutant turtle. And then Casey ghosts/dumps her. My poor daughter. She has a real rough time of it before fully integrating with the boys. Raph falls in with Old Hob, gets hoodwinked, and now they live in Mutant Town. Jennika slowly finds herself again, as a mutant turtle, a Splinter clan ninja, a girlfriend, a guitarist in a band she started, a sister in a found family, and a constable to a very little town.

okay! we’re all marginally informed about my two wonderfull daughters, Venus and Jennika~!

so if I can indulge further, I’m going to use my cognizance and make it everyone’s problem because I have beem quietly foaming with ideas for bg lore for tactical!J&V, more bullet points!

ok so, donathan mentioned a bit about their tac! Leo and Donnie being the snipers, Mikey and Raph spotting for them while also being demolitions and heavy ordinance specialists respectively

I would think, then for Vee and Jen, they’d be classified as close quarters combat specialists, complicated extraction? compromised area? call them to clean up and clear out~

give or take “magic” being a thing used in donathan’s AU, or anyone’s AU of this AU, Vee would probably be a close combat specialist along with Jen.

Vee, I feel, would, barring a ...”tactical fan”, (even though in TNM it was just her fists and her little wizard components but her toy came with a fan so.) probably use batons, Jen in lieu of her tekagi-shuko would... most likely use tactical karambit. not that large of a leap really.

for my personal lulz, Vee and Jen are... accurate, height-wise. Raph gets to be the biggest brother since alligator snapping turtles are, in fact, the largest motherfucking freshwater turtles on the north american continent. no getting around it.

my Vee in all Rise AUs is a softshell since the messy hanzi used to write her first given name, Mei Pieh Chi (美鱉气) has the hanzi that’s most commonly translated as softshell turtle (鱉). eh ‘di wow talaga

snacku what do you mean ‘accurate’???? tl;dr female turtles are usually the larger ones in most species.

and listen, I love and I mean LOVE, how some of y’all have written the tac!boys, mwah; but god I’m a professional turtle bully. I need to see them get dunked on. for nutritional value. and if it comes to it, I will provide that food for myself. brb laughing at eventually drawing Venus just offhandedly tossing Donnie into the air to skeet shoot his ass for fun brings me the greatest joy.

they absolutely dote on Mikey, as is the natural order of things. 

and even tho I stated TNM Donnie and Venus got along in the show, and depending on the existence of magic in this AU; I just really love dichotomous rivalries (in as much “science” and “magic” exist as a dichotomy, much less as “diametrically oppose” fields-- just, opposites man. i’m a simple girl with simple trope needs)

Vee’s arms (and legs) are absolutely covered in burns, scars, and missing flesh divots, just as close to swiss cheese limbs as you can be

Jen and Donnie debate tracks that go into their joint “On Our Way To Commit Murder” playlist

if Vee’s tactical look seem very familiar, and you’re wondering if-- yes, you’re correct. and you can “call her ms. de milo if ya nasty”

Vee was actually pretty calm and rational in TNM... but for this AU, she can be a little unhinged, as a well-deserved treat. (and ‘cuz that specific anime unhinged facial expression is fun as fuck to draw, which is my treat)

#giving me cognizance was a mistake #letting me learn to draw was another #I love Venus and Jennika #a HEALTHY amount I'd say #totally healthy & normal #:) #fuckin' turtles man #3 months into this new year #and it's turtles all the way back #this is why I trained for visdev #just chewing on things absently #and wondering how things would work In This World #figuring out how to fit something into an environment #a context #a situation #is my enrichment activity #not unlike #giving tigers huge slabs of meat in 3 feet of ice on a hot day #just sitting there gnawing away #until I get to the meat of it #both literally and figuratively #it's like a puzzle #that you can design the pieces themselves #but have I updated my visdev portfolio? #HAHAHA NO #TOO BUSY DRAWING FKKN TURTLES MAN #h elp #i listened to so many baddie playlists drawing this #i needa start a fight #get this extra energy out of my system

[nereidprinc3ss]

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 

He circles to the foot of the bed. 

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 

“I like hearing you say yes.” 

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 

“Yes, you can take them off.” 

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 

“My attitude is your fault.” 

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 

“Spencer,” you grit. 

He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

Another kiss. 

“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 

“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 

“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 

“Oh, do I?” 

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

[solarmorrigan]

Steve can do the cherry stem trick, because of course he can. Of course he can

He spent a stupid amount of time when he was younger trying to learn how to do it; ate a ridiculous number of cherries and just sort of started sticking them stem and all into his mouth, eating the cherry, and then working on the stem. He has 100% forgotten it's not just a thing people do, so now that’s just kind of how he eats them - puts the whole thing in his mouth, eats the cherry, and ties a knot in the stem the same way someone might fiddle with a twist tie

The first time Eddie sees him do this, he sees Steve stick the fruit in his mouth without removing the stem and just start chewing and it's like

Eddie: Did you just eat the... Steve, absently pulling a knotted cherry stem out of his mouth: Sorry, what? Eddie: Eddie: How are you even a real person

He spends the next three to five business days trying to get the thought out of his head. He’s absolutely disgusted with himself; it’s such a stereotypical flirting trick, it’s such a move, but for some reason it’s fucking working on him

(Robin has lowkey been waiting for Eddie to find out about this. She saw Steve do it multiple times with the maraschino cherries when they worked at Scoops and thought he was flirting with her at first before she realized he just... Does That. Like a weirdo.)

#this is both nothing and ridiculous and I'm sorry #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #solar wrote

[captainfern]

ORAL FIXATION WITH GHOST

Always chewing on your thumbs / nails and ghost getting onto you (cutely) and everyone is disgusted by it but you just alwaysss have something in your mouth and one night ghost gets like “fed up” with you hurting yourself by chewing on your nails so he is like “you wanna suck on something?” And you give him the sloppiest neediest head I’m talking tears and mascara streaks and the lewdest noises like just UGHHH

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Damage, Inc.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

[“Damage, Inc” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - you have a thing for putting stuff in your mouth. ghost has something to put in your mouth too lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.1k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [m!receiving], praise, degradation?? not rlly tho tbh, strong language

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You couldn’t help it.

It started off simple. Chewing your nails out of nerves and anxiety eventually gave way to chewing your nails out of habit. You didn’t mean too, it just happened. It’s not that you did it on purpose, anyway.

But everyone else on base still made fun of you for it.

Then, things got slightly more complicated. Putting your fingers in your mouth when you were nervous, or concentrating— just pressing the tip of your thumb to your bottom lip, or rubbing the pad of your index finger against the top of your lower row of teeth. It wasn’t meant to be gross, or strange, or anything like that. You couldn’t help it!

Things kept ramping up. Soon, you found yourself absent-mindedly biting at lollipop-sticks for hours on end, the plastic rolling along your teeth and tongue and giving you something to focus on. Then, it was sucking and chewing on the lid of your drink bottle for literally fucking days during missions.

It was becoming embarrassing, especially when the boys commented on it, joked about you acting like some teething fucking animal. It made you immediately spit out whatever it was in your mouth, and draw back within yourself, face burning. You didn’t mean too.

Gaz and Soap, bless their hearts, joked about it like teenagers. They didn’t mean it maliciously. They were idiots. You didn’t dwell on it too much.

Price tried to help. He noticed the chewing of the nails, first. Noticed the red, raw ring around your fingertips.

“Just dip your fingers in hand sanitiser. You’ll hate the taste.” He suggested.

You gave him a look. That’s not going to work, Price, oh my god.

He laughed. He seemed to understand you the most, though. On base, he carried toothpicks in his pocket, and would roll one across the table to you during rather tedious or nerve-wracking briefings. You’d twist them around in your mouth until you could taste the wood.

On a couple of occasions during missions, he’d hand you an unlit cigar if he had one to spare. You didn’t like the actual smoke inhalation that came with smoking, but the look of it always intrigued you. So, Price would hand you a cigar and you’d happily roll your lips around it, not binding the bitter taste of tobacco. Sometimes, Price would place his hat on your head while the cigar hung from your lips.

Soap liked to do this thing— he’d enter the room after Price gave you a cigar and his hat. He’d act shocked, looking between the two of you with his hands either side of his head in an expression of shock.

“Two Price’s?!?!?!?!”

It was funny, you had to admit.

But, the one person you couldn’t quite crack about the matter was your lieutenant.

He noticed your fixation. Of course he did. Ghost noticed everything.

But he didn’t act weirded out, making jokes like Gaz and Soap. He didn’t even try to offer help like Price.

He’d just make small remarks to you. Sometimes they were somewhat helpful. Sometimes you felt your body grow hot with embarrassment.

Chewing on your nails?— he’d tap you on the head as he walked past you.

Fingers near or in your mouth?— he’d yank your arm away with a shake of his head.

Sucking on the nozzle of your drink bottle for a bit too long?— he’d grip the back of your head and pull your mouth off of it.

Each action made you feel humiliated, to say the least. But, each action also had him speaking to you in ways that made your stomach flip.

Tap on the head = “Quit it, sergeant.”

Arm yanked away = “None of that, thank you.”

Head pulled away = “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Did some of his whispered words make your core throb? Maybe. Was that a problem? Also maybe, but who cares?

This entire thing came to a head one night in base. Price, Soap and Gaz were off doing god knows what, leaving you alone in the rec-room. You found yourself running a finger against your teeth as you stared into space, your most previous mission replaying in your mind.

You didn’t even hear Ghost come in. You also didn’t see him until he was looming over you, a hand clamping around your wrist.

You squeaked in surprise.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” He tutted softly. “You’re hurting yourself. I’ve told you to quit it.”

You looked up at him. “I don’t mean too, sir, I mean it. It just—”

“I don’t care,” Ghost said simply. “Stop it. I’m fed up of seeing you putting shit in your mouth. You’re not a dog.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” He blinked down at you. “I don’t understand? I understand perfectly. You just want things in your mouth, right? That’s what you want, eh?”

You frowned. “You’re making it weird.”

He had a hand on his belt now. When did he do that? It made your stomach flip.

“You want to suck on something so bad? You want something in your mouth?” He was unbuckling his belt before you could reply. “Come on then, naughty girl, open your fucking mouth.”

You gaped at him as he let his belt hang either side of his hips and place one of his gloved hands to his growing bulge.

“Lieutenant—?”

“Well?” He prompted, imprint of his cock right in front of your face. “Come on, sergeant. You want to put things in your mouth, right? So go on. Suck my fucking cock. Open wide and let me stuff this mouth with my cock.”

Oh.

I mean, you weren’t complaining.

But oh.

He peered down at you between long, blond eyelashes. You swallowed thickly, his stare making your entire body grow hot. His eyes seemed to grow darker and despite the skull balaclava, you could imagine his expectant expression.

“On your knees.” He whispered, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.

You did as you were told— clambering off of the couch and sinking to the floor. His hand was still heavy on the back of your head as you propped ourself on your knees. He pushed your head forward, and you caught yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs.

“Come on, pretty girl. I don’t have all night. Take my cock out.” He mumbled, pressing your face closer to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He lightened his grip so you could lean back. With shaky hands, you unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. You opened them and proceeded to push down his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free.

“Good fucking girl. Now take it in your hand,” Ghost hissed. “Wrap your hand around it— ah, fuck, there you go.”

You grasped the base of his cock firmly, making him curse under his breath. You squeezed it gently, stroking lightly, and he hissed out, the hand on the back of your head tightening in your hair.

“S’enough of that,” he tugged at your hair. “Open.”

You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. He looked down, cocking a head slightly to the side. Tentatively, you leaned forward and, still maintaining eye contact, pressed your lips delicately to the reddened tip of his cock. The pressure was featherlight, barely a peck, and when you pulled back, you had a small smear of precum on your lower lip.

He grunted, the hand at your head tightening so much that it made you choke on a whine.

“Quit the fucking teasing,” Ghost grunted again. “Naughty girl you are, eh, sergeant?”

You kissed the tip of his cock again. This time, you darted your tongue out like a fucking lizard and swiped it along the sensitive slit across the head. A deep, gravelly sound emitted from Ghost’s throat.

Whoops.

His other hand came down to your face, and he forced a thumb into your mouth. It was cottony against your tongue, his glove tasting like the smell of him. He kept his thumb pressed to your tongue, his other hand gripping the back of your head. His cock was still directly in front of your face. A dribble of pre leaked down the fat shaft of it.

“What’d I just fucking say?” He growled, thumb pressing down harder. “Quit fucking teasing. You don’t want to listen to your lieutenant, eh?”

His thumb on your tongue was making you salivate so much that strings of it dripped from the corners of your mouth. You whined, embarrassed, as your body flared hot with humiliation.

Ghost chuckled, low and dark. “Messy girl.”

He finally shifted his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of your teeth, the rest of his fingers holding your chin. With this, he forced your jaw wider, pushing your head closer with his other hand.

“You want to put things in your mouth? Want to be a dirty girl?” Ghost let go of your head briefly so he could grasp his cock. He brought it forward and ran the sensitive tip across your lower face, smearing your saliva. He shuddered an exhale at the sensation. “Come on then. Let me put my cock in your mouth. Let’s see how dirty you can be.”

He kept your jaw open like a vice as he pulled his cock back and then proceeded to push it into your open mouth. You gagged immediately as he rammed the tip into the back of your throat with a groan.

“Yeah, that’s right. Gag on it,” Ghost groaned. “Fucking gag on it. S’too big, eh? Fuck, I know, pretty girl. But you love putting things in your mouth, don’t you? I bet you love this.”

Tears were welling in your eyes when he removed his thumb from your mouth. He kept a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take more and more of him.

He was grunting and groaning quietly above you, your cunt throbbing at the sounds. Meanwhile, you continued to wrap your lips around his girth and keep up with the way he was fucking your throat.

He was heavy on your tongue. Velvety smooth, with veins you could feel and drips of precum that you could taste. You moaned around his cock, and he bucked his hips deeper into you, making you gag again. Tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“That’s it, take it,” he muttered, the fat head of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. “Take it all in this slutty little mouth. Listen to these noises, too. Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

The noises were slick and wet. Your saliva, dribbling down your chin, pooled in your mouth as he fucked it. It was sloppy and messy. The sounds filling your ears made your stomach twist in both mortification and excitement.

Ghost was fucking his cock into your mouth like a madman. His thrusts were desperate while he kept a firm grip on your head. He watched you as you took his cock down your throat, grunting at each suctioned drag, eased by the amount of saliva.

His breaths were now coming in pants. “You’re not gonna put your fingers in your mouth again, okay? You want something to suck on, then you come and suck on my cock. Got it?”

You whimpered around him, desperately trying to hold more gags at bay.

He was still grunting and groaning deep from his chest as pleasure built within him. “M-fuck. M’gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna take it all, pretty girl.”

You whimpered at him again. Your core was throbbing so much you thought you might die.

The grip Ghost had on your head tightened even more, forcing you to take more of his cock until your nose was flush to the thatch of hair at the base. You whined and gagged and it prompted Ghost to whisper your name and cum down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled as he emptied his load into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, take it, pretty girl. Don’t waste it… don’t waste it.”

He rutted his cock a couple more times before he pulled out. He blinked down at you lazily as you stared up at him, cheeks puffed out with a mouth full of his cum. Cheekily, you poked your tongue out a few centimetres, some of his seed oozing out and dripping down your chin.

“Holy fuck—” He caught himself moaning. “Just— fuck, swallow it.”

You did, and he moaned again. He pulled you up towards him, urging you to your feet by still holding your head. Then, he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to smother the noise of surprise you made.

When he pulled back, he breathed deeply, massaging the back of your neck gently.

“I’m serious, by the way. Stop chewing your nails and sucking on your fingers… please.”

You smiled at him. “I’ll try. As long as I can distract myself by sucking on your cock instead.”

“O’course you can, pretty girl.”

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

bruh this sucked i’m sorry 😭

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #captain’smetallica

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

older!simon 'ghost' riley x inexperienced!girly!younger!reader where there's a size difference and u two finally have sex..

(pt 2 to this)

warnings: size difference (simon is 6'10 in this hehe reader is a good amount shorter and smaller than that), fem!reader, afab!reader, nicknames, penetrative sex, cowgirl sex position, p0rn without plot basically, some ddlg usage, reader calls simon 'daddy' a few times, talks of oral sex (fem receiving), age gap (about 10 years but READER IS LEGAL) , fluffy type of smut, dirty things beware >.<

note: this is more of a blurb n less of a full fic but hope u enjoy!! more stuff is comin out with simon n konig !! my requests r open so feel free to send any ideas there ALSO I KINDA HATE THIS BUT whatever<3

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

your brain already was coaxed into a mush after your first orgasm where your boyfriend sucked and rubbed on your engorged button until you were squealing and seeing stars.

now, you sat on ghost's hardened cock, ur wet cunny dripping onto it which made his light pink tip twitch with hunger.

"remember, bunny," he had whispered as he moved your pliable body to your current position. "we'll just go slow, mkay?" his gruff voiced cause ur skin to prickle with goosebumps as you nodded, your mind not all there after your numbing climax.

u absent-mindedly rubbed ur sopping, hot cunt on his erect cock, bitting ur lower lip and closing your eyes. you accidentally tuned simon's words out--hyper fixating on the pulsing that pounded between the apex of your pudgy thighs.

your toes curled in your thigh-highs as you stabeled yourself on your boyfriend's large tattooed, scarred chest.

your hole clenched around nothing as your needy cunt dragged its swollen lips and engorged button on simon's length. you were so, so gone until--

"baby," ghost hissed gently, stilling your movement on him with his large hands. "'m talkin' to ya..did y' hear what i said?"

u whined softly, a quiet protest to him stopping you from pleasure.

he kissed your pouted lips, taking one of his hands off of you to wrap his inked, muscled bicep around your body as you replied back with a shy and squeaky, "..no.."

a deep rumble in his chest from his short chuckle made the blush on your face deepen.

"was just sayin' that if it gets ta be too much for ya we can try again later, mkay?" his voice was so incredibly gentle and soft that you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or cream (lol). instead, you sighed dreamily, chewing on the fat of your swollen lower lip as you admired him. the scar at the corner of his mouth that made his smile more prominant. his blonde hair that was almost a darker brown. the tattoos that inked his body. his plump, pink lips--dark eyes and strong jaw and nose. the stubble on his jaw. you absent-mindedly played with his hair (eyes almost in the shape of cartoon-hearts if it were possible), and you could feel the way he leaned into your hand abit as his fingertips gently ran along your spine, soothing your desperate trembling. you finally nodded to his question, your chest pressing against his tattooed and scarred one. god, he was so strong and warm. "mk daddy.." you whispered, and that was a tell-tale sign for simon that you were already gone. he smiled softly, gently squishing your cheeks to create a pout, inked hand--bringing your lips closer to his.

"gonna be gentle with ya, but you hafta trust me, okay bunny? love y' so much." he murmured against your lips, his own hunger for you growing to a dangerous rate as you kitten-licked inside of his mouth. you nodded, your voice high as you whispered a mushy little, "mk. trust you, si.. lub u too.." against his mouth.

simon made his way from your soft lips down to pepper light kisses on your collar bones as his large palms held your body so nicely.

he leaned back a bit, your lips attached to his as he held your hips; lifting your lower body up a bit as you grinded gently on him like a kitty in heat.

to allow himself to adjust his cock with your sloppy hole, he lifted your hips up a bit more, and in your floaty state you could not help but grind against nothing--desperate whines and mewls escaping your kiss-bruised lips. simon meanly chuckled, his cock throbbing as he instructed you to sit up a bit.

"daddy, 'm achey.." you sniffled, pouting. simon's left hand massaged your side as he stroked his cock three times before bringing you forward briefly to plant a kiss on your lips.

"i know sweet girl, gonna make ya feel better, m'okay?"

you nodded sitting up a bit so he could line his tip up with your messy cunt.

he rubbed his hand over your right nipple, squeezing the fat of your tit as your hands groped from his chest to his hand, to his tattooed forearm.

he could feel the heat coming off of your cunt, and he tried not to lose it and immediately pummel his cock into you.

you were just so delicate.

he would never want to hurt you.

"alrigh' slowly.." his voice sounded so soft and grumbly, it made you want to rub your button against him until you saw stars. but you had to focus.

you began to sink down, simon holding you up as you whined. a bulge already forming in your belly as you whimpered at the ungodly stretch.

your boyfriend sat up, taking your lips in his for sloppy kiss before you interrupted it with a small little squeak, "a-ah!" eyebrows pulled upwards as you cried. he kissed your lips slowly but hungrily--as if trying to eat you whole.

his big hands held your hips and waist, stopping you for a moment so you could take a breath.

"shh, slower, bunny, sink d-down slower," you began to sink down again, slower this time as you took all of him. "good girl, bunny. tight cunny takin' me s-so well.."

#ghost cod #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #coquette #simon riley x innocent!reader #older!simon riley x reader #older!simon riley #older!ghost #older!ghost x reader #girly!reader #inexperienced!reader #simon riley x inexperienced!reader

[abbyonmars]

cw; fem!reader, mentions of sex, swearing.

wc: 1.7k. angst/fluff.

this is also kinda toxic imo sorry x

ellie can't won't sleep without having you in her arms.

but since the sun's setting your evening looked like hours of waiting for her. spamming her phone, chewing unsparingly at your already short and mutilated nails, heart beating relentlessly in your chest — all in result of each rapid thought that gushed through the boundless blackhole that was your worried mind, and the ceaseless growing pit of anxiety that dropped to endless oblivion in your stomach.

she had told you before she left that she would be back by 7:00pm to watch that movie she promised to watch with you. the one in which being the sequel to your favourite franchise, as well as it being the movie you had been begging her to come see with you for weeks. not only this, but it also happened to be your one year anniversary with her; you had spent so much time and effort to weave in a plethora of sentiments like dinner and gifts that you thought she would like and so patiently, you sat cross-legged on your side of the bed like the good, loyal girlfriend you were, waiting for her to come home.

and since hours before, you had been dolled up and ready to see her. your hair was intricately made, glitter was tapped to your eyelids — and underneath your tightly hugging button up and the thin fabric of your skirt laid a set of pretty pink lacy lingerie you were excited to surprise her with later.

but you were sat there for hours. you watched the clock turn from 7:00pm to 8, 8:00 to 9. but 9:00pm turned to 10, which soon turned into 12am and yet, no ellie.

some would argue that this isn't such a deal. you could claim your own indifference — just tuck yourself in, indulge in that perpetual doom-scroll before you fall asleep. you could just ask about her whereabouts in the morning, just don't make this such a big thing. she probably just happened to have too much fun.

however, this has happened one too many times, too many times for you to count. making in advance plans only to have her screw you over without word, continuously coming home to you with the same and overused, pathetic excuses that always resulted in an argument and tears — notwithstanding the heated make-up sex she'd treat you to in order to to ease her 'guilt' and to compensate for her assholery that day.

but this time you decided you were tired of waiting. you didn't feel like having that habitual screaming match at whatever time she'd decide to come home that night and you knew that whatever you did, you would always end up in the same predicament that was reimbursing your forgiveness, despite constantly being treated similar to the dirt barred between the crevices in her converse soles.

'she can do whatever she wants.' you tried to reassure yourself; after all, no one was there to do it for you. why fret? 'i'm not her mother. i don't control her.'

with your back turned to her side of the bed, you tried your best to fall asleep, watching the moon's gentle spill of light from the glass window of the room with half-shut eyes. for now, you were at some state of serenity, finding solace in the teasing winks of twinkling stars and small snippets of the wind's light whistles.

you'd been half-asleep for longer than you thought, merely lost in your absent thoughts about anything but her. but soon, it wasn't just you and the moon — interruption came by the creaking of the bedroom door along with the obnoxiously bright and artificial light that forced itself in through the crack of the entrance. by then you knew she was back, but you remained still and seemingly unstirred by her entry.

"babe," she whispered, her enunciation almost blending in with the wind's breeze. "you awake?"

but you stayed silent. no longer watching the darkened skies, you froze, shutting your eyes without any utterance and really tried to fall asleep that time — a few moments had passed, and your mind had eventually come to being on the brink of unconsciousness, almost derailed of its endless foreboding.

you shouldn't have gotten used to the feeling of your head no longer spinning, nor the induced tranquillity by being solitary. because once you felt the bed dip in next to you, your stomach was suddenly in knots all over again. all the progress towards the settlement you were better off with was expeditiously diminished, and all from hearing a singular sigh from the girl next to you.

although you tried your best to contain it, a sole tear happened to roll down your reddened cheeks, and a small sniffle was made from your allegedly sleeping peace.

"baby," she breathed, sliding her cold hands onto your bare shoulder, "you're awake - listen, i'm sorry i didn't call, or—"

with an abrupt movement you turned to face her with wrinkled eyebrows and a scrunched face, lips turned downward into a lip-bitten frown and with eyes that turned glassy instantaneously. she met you now with a similar looking frown as she eyed the fresh dampness of your cheeks, her stomach now swirling with shame.

"where were you?" you rasped. you took in a sharp and shaking breath, watching the way her blinking green eyes bored back into yours. "where were you?"

"i'm sorry," she answered, her voice quietening to a murmur upon seeing your eyes roll in response. "i just lost track of time—"

you scoffed. letting out a dry chuckle, you swallowed down the lump that threatened to form in your throat, well aware of the one also forming in hers. "we had plans. don't you care about me?"

with that, her eyes widened as she instantly sat up, and her voice all of a sudden grew louder in her attempt to defend herself.

"what? of - of course i care about you, y/n. i just—"

"you just, what?" you huffed, sitting up next to her. "you just - lost your phone? couldn't get away? or did you just.. forget? because, i wouldn't be surprised if you did, since—"

"jesus, will you just let me talk?" she muttered exasperatedly, bringing up a hand to rub her temples with her thumb and first two fingers. "y'know, you're always jumping to these ridiculous excuses. just let me explain."

"fuck, i wonder why," you sighed. sarcastically smiling, you leaned forward to your knees, delving your face into the palms of your hands. "do you even know what today was?"

she blinked. she let a beat of silence pass, her mouth being slightly hung open with a sort of blank cluelessness. "... w-what?"

and came another scoff from you and weak tears slipping from your orbs, you responded, "our anniversary. our one year, together."

as if she couldn't feel or look any worse than she did now, blood drew from her face, bestowing upon her freckled cheeks the palest you have ever seen her look. she withdrew a quiet breath, sliding her narrow fingers up her neck and over her mouth as she payed mind to the growing disappointment on your face.

you waited for any development of voice, but alas, to nothing. you bit your lip, muttering a quiet, 'forget it' as you turned over to lay on your side, and your head plunged back into the sinking air of your pillow as you pulled the duvet up to cover the shivers upon your bare neck.

she sighed. sliding her hand back onto your shoulder in a forbearing attempt to get you to turn back to her, she gritted her teeth and her hand moved away once you shook her off, only tucking yourself tighter into the covers.

"go to sleep, ellie," you muttered, sniffling once more.

"baby — please. you are so important to me."

"sleep."

forthwith, ellie grew tense. her other hand shot up to nervously rub at the lobe of her ear as she continued to plead with you, but having unsuccessfully drawn any sort of amenable answer she eventually gave up, deciding that she'd push for some stage of absolution of the sort in the morning.

but having barely endured the unresponsiveness from you, the next half hour was spent restlessly by the girl; within short intervals she kept shuffling an uncomfortable amount in her space, consequently perturbing you each time. it took quite an ounce of strength not to tell her to stop because you knew that if you took action, she'd take it as an initiative to talk again.

yet unknowingly, you were in that same dilemma. your side of the bed felt particularly colder than normal, and your heart spiked with something other than your determining stubbornness — suddenly, you no longer felt consoled by the room's solitude from earlier. even with her next to you, you couldn't have felt more alone.

"y/n," she whispered. "i know you're awake."

you sniffed. shuffling slightly in place, the warmth that you were well accustomed to gradually felt like it moved closer to your own body, and you felt the light graze of her fingers once more, skimming gently along your arm.

"please," she breathed. "angel, i- i can't sleep. let me touch you."

a moment's hesitance happened to come alongside a huff that indicated you finally caving into her touch. without turning you reached for her hand and you threw it around your waist, squeezing your eyes shut in slight regret and yet, ease.

letting out a small sigh of relief, she tightened her hold around your torso and pressed your back up to the front of her body. her hand moved to the dip of your hip and stayed there, and you could feel her heart racing against you — somehow, even after the torment she unintentionally put you through, your own stomach swarmed with butterflies and the tension within you dissipated almost in an instant.

"thank you," she mumbled, lips lingering around the crook of your neck. she moved your hair aside, planting soft kisses up the skin of your tensed shoulder and to your ear.

"i'll make it up to you," her warm breath hit your skin and tickled the back of your ear, the rasping of her low voice sending a different ray of knots into your stomach. "i promise."

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

hii i'm back

i hope you're all well :')

pls let this be a (very poor) reminder to not let anybody treat you less than you're worth. if this happened to hit home, i'm sorry — know that whatever you've been through, you are worthy of love and respect. please don't think otherwise

#ellie williams #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #tlou ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #wlw

[bluetimeombre]

──•~❉᯽❉ Third times the charm

Tom and you met over zoom whilst auditioning for your roles in the ballad of songbirds and snakes. Instant attraction and the chemistry was off the charts, everyone could see it, even you two fools. In every interview you did, as co-stars, as best friends and finally, as a couple…

(from me: hi, sorry, I’m dying for Tom Blyth content so I made so myself. I can't bring myself to write y'/n so i'm just going with 'you.' But I wrote it so you're british, oops. This is also to make up for choosing timmy in the 'call it what you want to' series, for the tom girlies, enjoy!)

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

' How well do the stars of Ballad of songbirds and snakes know each other? - Vanity Fair. '

Tom, you and Josh sat together in the Vanity Fair studio. While Tom kept his cards close to his chest (literally), you and Josh waited anxiously. You were sure you would win though, even Josh was sure you would win. Tom and you had spent almost every day together all year. People in the studio- who had only caught a ten minute glimpse of your friendship- knew your souls were made together.

'First question,' said Tom, pulling the cards back further. 'What is my biggest fear?'

Josh slapped his knee in frustration and you slumped in your chair, laughing to yourself. You must know, surely. 'Mine is gonna be, probably, a little bit more shallow,' said Josh before you could even make a guess.

You rose your brows focusing on a specific point on the floor. 'Shallow?'

Tom rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. His lips were tilted in a fond smile at her concentration. 'You ok?' he laughed, 'you know this- you've got this.'

'No, I do know this, you've told me,' you say.

'You've told her?' gasped Josh.

'I've probably told you!' said Tom. He seemed completely absent minded over the fact he was still holding onto your shoulder, massaging it gently.

'Ok, I think it's- ironically- snakes. That's my guess.' Finally, you breath and cross your legs over.

'Interesting. Josh?' he asked, taking his hand from you. (Maybe eagle eyed fans would see the way his hand flexed at his side, just under the chair. And maybe twitter would blow up with the Mr Dracy like move.)

'I was gonna say mountain lions.'

You and Tom laughed. 'That's more shallow?'

'In what way is that more Shallow?' Tom laughed.

Josh gesture wildly to you. 'I thought you were gonna say something more conceptual.'

'Oh sorry,' you apologise.

Josh leant back on his chair. 'Yea, you should be.'

Tom finished writing on the card. 'So, it was my childhood fear, which I've obviously gotten over but it was-' he turned the card, revealing his scribble. 'Snakes.'

'Yes!' you cheered. 'I knew it!'

'I think it's because I used to watch a lot of Indiana Jones as a kid and because he was afraid of snakes, I think it transferred on to me,' he explained.

'Makes sense,' you shrugged.

'Cool people are afraid of snakes,' Tom agreed.

'And mountain lions,' added Josh, causing your cheeks to heat up with laughter. There was probably nobody who could be so nonchalant in how he makes you laugh.

'Point to you!' cheered Tom, holding up his hand. Quickly you high-fived him and held his hand for a flickering moment before moving on.

'What is my go-to karaoke song?'

You were safe to say, gob-smacked. You swivel in your seat, eyes wide. 'You have a go-to karaoke song?'

He stares at you, just as shocked at your surprise. 'We all do.'

'We do?' you asked. 'Then what the hell is Josh's?' you turn to him, curious.

'9 to 5, Dolly Parton,' he said, seriously. But even that got you cracking up.

'I expect one of you to know this,' said Tom, scribbling his song choice.

'Oh, no pressure then,' you said.

'We went to karaoke all the time.'

'Yes but I don't remember all the song,' you fold your arms over your chest, chewing down on your lips.

'Oh no,' Josh hunched over and you pat his back, mumbling to yourself. 'I feel like- I wanna say it was some punk-rock thing.'

'Do you want a clue?' Tom offered.

'Yes!' Josh.

'No!' You.

'Ok, not then,' said Tom, deciding.

'Wait, no, that's not fair,' Josh complained, 'I want a clue.'

Tom shrugged, holding out his arms. 'Boss said.'

'Yea I don't know why I said that,' you laugh, still thinking. You remember him singing to you, in your trailers or hanging out on set. He or you would strum a guitar and sing together. But karaoke?

'Mambo number 5,' Josh announced.

'Mambo number 5,' Tom checked.

Your brows scrunched up. 'That's punk rock?'

Josh looked at you, then remembered what he was saying. 'No, i'm gonna change mine to all the small things.'

'Ok, your guess?' asked Tom, nudging you.

'Oh I don't know,' you shrug, 'Sexy back, Justin Timberlake.'

'Close!'

'I was close?' you gasp, jumping up in your seat.

'It was,' he shows the card. 'Senorita, Justin Timberlake.'

You and Josh laughed together.

'I don't think I ever heard you sing that!' Josh argued.

'We definitely did, definitely.'

Josh shook his head, body shaking with laughter. 'I don't think I even know the words to the song.'

Tom shifted in his seat, changing cards. 'That's the point of Karaoke, they're up on the screen'

You turn to him, face screwed up and holding onto his knee. 'That's not the point of karaoke babe,' you said solemnly. It was a joke between the cast, how often you called people babe. As a brit. Sometimes you even said it in a Gemma Collins way.

'Anyway, half a point to you!'

You fist pump the air while Josh complains loudly. Whilst bickering, Tom moved on and had to repeat the question.

'What is my favourite mode of New York transportation?' he asked.

You chuckled to yourself, rubbing your head. 'That is the funniest question ever.'

Tom scoffed, his lips curling up. 'How is that a funny question?'

'I've just never known transportation to come up in one of our conversations. Imagine meeting someone and being like 'hey, guess what? my favourite mode of transport is...''

Josh laughed at the hurt look on Tom's face and your own sarcasm.

'Oh yea, what is it then?'

'Your motorcycle,' you said obviously.

'Well, you knew it didn't you,' he pointed out. The two of you bickering like a married couple. Even the crew behind the scene were blushing at you two and laughing.

'I didn't get to guess!' erupted Josh.

Tom and you laughed, holding onto each other and apologising to him.

Josh leant back in his chair, throwing his leg over his knee. 'Ok so motorcycle but i'm gonna go the extra mile and say- I think it's a Honda.'

Tom calmed down, wiping tears of laughter before showing the camera his answer. 'It is motorcyle but Josh is wrong, it's not a Honda so the point goes to you.'

You pat yourself on the back while Josh looks into the camera.

'This is what happens when you give 110%. Is this the example we want to set?'

Tom rests his hand on your back, un-consciously rubbing it. 'Ok so, point to you and Josh gets ... three quarters of a point.'

You nod your head. '75%. Have you got any points?'

Josh glared at you. He then noticed Tom's hand resting on your back. 'Why are you comforting her? i'm the loser.'

You clicked your tongue, pushing him. It was lucky you didn't notice how Tom blushed, turning back to his cards and made a mental note to keep his hands to himself.

The three of you continued down the questions:

'If I weren't an actor, what profession would I be?' Tom

'What are you? writing down a novel there?' You

'You'd definitely work with mountain lions.' Josh

'For some reason I want to say Fire man but that's not it.' You

'What is my coffee order?' Tom

'Oh, I know this, it's the same as mine. Josh, you know this?' You

'Of course not.' Josh

'What is my biggest pet peeve?' Tom

'So many things come to mind.' You

'Am I a grumpy old man to you?' Tom

'Tom has always been so relaxed and easy going, go ahead and put a point down for me.' Josh

For the next question, Tom looked pointedly at you. 'I really hope you get this. What is my hidden talent?'

Josh looked seriously at Tom, only suddenly playing the game. 'I think I know what mine is.'

'I think you should both get this,' he said, writing down the answer.

'Whistling,' you guessed simply.

Tom quipped his lips at you, head moving slightly.

'Well, I was also gonna say whistling,' Josh smirked.

Tom laughed. 'You're so full of shit.'

'I said it first, you're good at whistling. You can whistle like a disney bird,' you said, trying to win more points in flattery.

'Thank you.'

You looked into the camera. 'Tom's actually going to be playing a bird in the new Snow White movie with Rachel Zegler.'

The boys laughed.

Tom nodded, turning around the card. 'The answer is whistling.'

Josh and you shake hands and Tom started to show of his whistling skills, the familiar tune of the hunger games and holding up three fingers.

'I was- that made me nervous,' said Tom shakily.

'Yea, you were shaking,' you said.

Tom reached out for your arm, before remembering before and pulling back. 'I know, did you see my lip quivering.'

'I was nervous for you.'

'Yea, yea, yea,' agreed Tom.

Josh pretended to get out of his seat. 'I should go, i'll leave you guys to it.'

You pulled him back down while Tom moved on, asking the couple final questions. It ended with you earing 6 points, while Josh was at a lousy 2.75. But then, it was yours and Josh's turn to 'flip the script' on Tom. If he got them wrong, you guys got the points so you'd made sure to chose difficult questions.

You just hadn't expected Tom to know everything.

'Tom.'

'Yes,' he stared intently, ready for anything.

'What is my dogs name?' you smirked, thinking he wouldn't remember. Since you were on set and then traveling for press your dog was staying with your family and Tom had only met him once or twice.

'Easy. Padfoot.'

Your brows dropped and you turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line.

Tom nudged you. 'Did you think I wouldn't get it?' he asked and his jaw-dropped when you nodded. 'Of course i'd get it, I love your boy.'

'What the hell is a Padfoot?' asked Josh.

'It doesn't matter,' you waved of, trying to distract yourself from blushing. You really didn't think Tom would get it, would care enough to remember.

'It's a Harry Potter thing,' explained Tom. He stretched out his arm so it held onto the back of your chair. Not touching, right.

Josh asked his question. Tom got it right again and you were looking down at your card, wondering if it was hard enough for him.

Tom watched you set the cards down, tuck your chin into your chest and put your hands behind your chair. 'Oh no,' he chuckled.

'There is a piece of jewellery that I always wear. Now obviously i couldn't wear it whilst filming, but I had it kept in my trailer. And after we wrapped it went straight back on. The question is what piece of jewellery is it?'

Josh was laughing and trying to guess himself while Tom panicked. Every day for a year he had been around you. He'd had lunch with you, hung out in your trailer, you'd nap together and laugh together. He's seen you swimming in nothing but a lovely swim suit. He'd held your hands and you guys had even worn each others rings. How could he not know? He was beating himself up about it, all the while you smirked at him. Tom could almost excuse the fact of being a shitty friend to see how giddy it got you.

He tried to peek behind the chair but you shifted. 'Ok I don't think it's a ring because you change up your rings a lot.'

'Ok,' you hum.

Tom pulled at his lip. You weren't hiding your ears so it couldn't be an earing. That's when he remembered. Tom clicked his fingers. 'It's your locket! and it's gold!'

You sit up straight. 'How?!' Tom immediately looked to your neck- or maybe it was closer to your chest- where your locket dangled just under your shirt 'Well, I think we know who knows each other the best!'

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Some months later, about eight, you and Tom were back at a quiz. The two of you were starring in different things. Tom's series which he stared in, 'Billy the kid' was having it's third and final debut while you staring in a adaptation of 'Malibu Rising' by Taylor Jenkins Reid for Apple Tv.

' The BFF test! ' - Glamour.

'How do you think we're gonna do?' asked Tom.

'That's not even a question Tom, we're gonna do great!' you threw a thumbs up at the camera and Tom copied you with a grin.

'Let's do this shit!' he yelled.

The crew behind the camera gasped and laughed while you hunched over, chuckling. He realised his mistake, how he wasn't supposed to swear and put his hand over his mouth.

'I am so sorry,' he apologised. Only when you caught your breath did you stand up and hold onto him. His arm wrapped around you back, holding you too.

Eventually, once you two had regained yourselves, you were asked how well you think you know each other.

'Pretty well,' you said.

'Very well,' Tom corrected.

'Very well it is, very well it is,' you said.

The crew behind the camera asked when you first met.

'Over zoom,' you said.

Tom nodded. 'it was a chemistry read for hunger games. Coriolanus and Lucy-Grey. You sang an acoustic version of Silver springs and I watched.'

'And the rest is history. Inseparable ever since,' you smile, swaying side to side while Tom watched with a fond smile. 'But seriously, it was a very lovely moment and since then, i've had a best friend in Tom.'

'Aw,' he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder and drawing you in. 'I love this girl,' he told the camera.

Eventually, once the two of you were finished with the introductions they had you stand opposite each other with a small notebook and pen. Your task: to write a compliment about each other.

Tom was already writing down his, page being filled up quickly. 'How much time you got?'

'Done,' you said, closing your notebook.

Tom looked up. 'What?'

'I'm kidding,' you assured him at his shocked and maybe slightly hurt face. 'How are you writing so much?'

'I have a lot to say about you.'

'Sappy.'

'Shut it, you love it.' Tom was focused on writing down, getting all his thoughts and a thousand unsaid words on page. He couldn't tell how you watched him with a smile and a shimmering glimmer in your eyes, but fans could, and they'd deem it the look of love.

After a moment longer of writing, you finished, looking at him. 'Ready?'

Tom finished his sentence and nodded. 'Ready.'

'Ok you go first,' you say.

'No, you go first,' he insists, the two bickering over each other. 'Ladies first.'

'Age before beauty,' you say.

Tom rolled his eyes playfully but held up his notebook. 'This is- this is nerve racking, woah,' he says, laughing.

'No, I know. I'll turn around if that helps,' you go to turn.

Tom grabs your arm. 'No, don't-' he cleared his throat, let you go and started to read. 'You are incredibly talented, that's the first one. Your acting, your voice, it's unbelievable and every time I watch you at your work, i'm in awe. As well as that, you are so dedicated to your craft, whether it's flying back and forth for your movies or not giving up until you've nailed a scene, you just- you give 110% every time and it's inspiring to watch. Not only do you make me want to be a better actor, but a better man-'

He read from his notebook, flicking through the pages as you watched, mouth covered and tears welling up in your eyes.

'You're insanely intelligent, you have such a unique style that is so you. You give confidence to others and always bring the best out in them. You're witty, you're hilarious, absolutely hilarious, I don't laugh with anyone the way I laugh with you. And you are just the most beautiful girl in the world.' Only when he had finished did he look up and see you wiping your eyes.

'Christ,' you mutter, turning away as the crew laughed.

Tom wrapped you in a bear hug, laughing and rocking you back and forth. 'You're not suppose to cry.'

'How can I not?!' you mumble into his chest. 'Ok.' you took a deep breath, calming yourself before standing back from him and looking down at your own notes. 'Well mine just seem so rubbish now,' you joke toward the camera.

'Tom. You're a talented actor. One of the most talented i've ever met, or ever seen. Watching you on the hunger games, I mean, I was speechless half the time. You're the kindest and sweetest man I know. It's no secret i've always said, men, they suck but you, you changed that. You, single-handily restored my faith in men,' you say, creating a laugh through the studio and him. 'Er, i've just listed compliments, funny, caring, talented, gorgeous, beautiful, so-so hot- I mean, the list goes on but it's not gonna be anything like you gave me.'

'It's perfect, thank you.'

You gesture to him, looking in the camera. 'He's a gentleman.'

Your next task was harder, looking into each other eyes for one minute.

'Is this gonna be like, a staring contest,' you wonder out loud as the two of you already keep your eyes on each other.

'I hope not, my eyes sting already,' says Tom. For a moment, the two of you are just there staring at each other. Your hands behind your back, his at his side as small smiles play at your lips.

'Your eyes are so blue, christ, i've never just stared at them like this before,' you compliment. 'Add that to my list.'

'Are you crying? You look like you're going to cry again?' asked Tom, peering closer at you.

'That's just me, i'm always in a state of verge of tears.'

He laughs, but keeps his eyes open and on you. After a minute, you two finally looked away, rubbing at your eyes. 'I think we were having a staring contest then,' he said.

'Yea, yea, yea, my eyes hurt.'

There was a couple extra challenges, trying to say the same word at the same time (you guys failed every time except last where you both said 'hunger games') and to mirror each others move. The last one, is a trust fall.

'Send it!' Tom pretended to fall back immediately as you lunged to catch. He didn't fall but laughed at your readiness. 'Send it!'

'Stop!' you yell.

'Ok, for real this time, you ready?' he asked, holding his arms over his chest and glancing back at you.

'I'm so scared!'

Tom looked at the camera. 'Why are you scared? i'm the one falling!'

'Ok, on the count of three,' you say, holding your arms out.

'Are you counting up or down?'

'Down. Ok, three... two...one!'

Tom fell back and you held him up, pushing his back. The two of you stumbled a bit causing Tom's eyes to widen, but you had him.

'You are heavier than you look,' you say. 'All that pure muscle.'

Tom struggled back up and then it was your turn. 'On the count of three?' he asked, arms out.

'No!' you whine. 'I hate this!'

'Trust me. Don't you trust me?'

You have your hands tucked to your side. You look into the camera. 'This is gonna send me right back to therapy.'

Tom laughs behind you but reaches over to hold onto your shoulders. 'C'mon, you can do this, i'll slowly ease you back.'

You squeeze your eyes shut and purse your lips, stifling a hum. 'That's cheating.'

Tom tuts, 'No it's not: now-' gently he held onto your shoulders and-bending at the knees- he gently eased you down, until he was crouching and until you were rocking on your heels. You took a deep breath as he held you back up. Your arms were still over your chest as your body wracked with a laugh.

'That was so dumb.'

Tom still had you in his hold, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

A year later and finally, the fans dreams came true. When the video was released, fans went crazy, thinking it was fake or a mashup of clips put together. Instead, it was true. A very real video of the two of you doing a 'couples quiz'.

'Hello!' Tom waved at the camera, before gesturing between the two of you. 'We are here today to do the-'

'Couples interview!' you finish. 'Years in the making it would seem,' you added, slapping your cards over your knee.

Tom looked at his cards. 'What is my first name?'

'Tom Keir Blyth,' you answer easily, 'not Thomas. Against popular contradiction.'

He laughed, knowing you'd call him Thomas to annoy him if you ever bickered. 'Not Thomas.'

'Call him Thomas and he'll break up with you.'

'That hasn't happened!' he told the camera, whacking you playfully with the cards a you sat across from him. 'Ok, moving on, where did I grow up?'

'Birmingham,' you say, in your best Birmingham accent.

'What was my fist film role?' he asked, smirking at the question.

You sigh, throwing your head back. 'Ok so... I don't know if it was your very first one, or maybe it was like, the second or something but you were in Robin Hood, and you played feral child number three.'

'That's exactly what I have on my card,' he said, showing it off to you.

'I'm the best girlfriend,' you sing.

Tom laughed, marvelling at you for a moment before moving onto the next question. 'Oh ok, where was our first kiss?'

You shrug, thinking it obvious. 'On set.'

Tom looked back down to his cards. 'Oh yea, I should've specified- our first kiss like as a couple, or just not on set.'

You laugh. 'Ok, cool, I was gonna say, that's an easy one. So of set, I guess, it was my hotel room. In New York, yea.'

'See, I had down-'

'You had something else down?' you gasp, leaning over in your chair.

'Yea. I had it down as the picnic, when you came to see me on set of Billy,' he explained. He remembered the day fondly. You and him, riding horses into the sandy terrain, taking a picnic down and one of his breaks and rolling around the blanket, laughing and digging fingertips into each other. Lips clashing in the heat of sun.

'But we- ok fine, that was our first kiss.'

'We did, kiss in the hotel room, you're right,' he insisted.

'No, but if you're counting first kiss as a couple then you're right, the picnic.'

'No you should still get the point because that kiss does count.'

Your exchange could've gone on forever if someone behind the camera hadn't spoken up, saying how adorable you two were, causing blushes from both of you before he moved on.

'What is my favourite thing to bring with me when I travel?' he asks.

'Me,' you say, without faltering.

'Correct!' he chucked the card behind him.

'Was it actually?'

Tom nodded. 'Yea. Well number one was you and then the second was my motorbike key.'

You roll your eyes. 'Of course it was. Thank you for putting me above the key at least.'

'Always, darling, always. What is my favourite jacket to wear?' he asked.

You thought about it, carefully and for a while. 'You don't have many but I'm trying to think which you wear the most.'

'I think you'll know it, you should get it.'

You raise your head to the ceiling, taking it more seriously than probably needed. He concentrated on you, wondering how hard you were thinking. 'The thing is- i'm thinking practicality. So like, that would be your motorbike jacket. But the one that I see you in most, and that I wear the most, is like your long, black jacket?'

'I had my motorbike jacket down, so half a point.'

'It crossed my mind!' you defended.

'It did, yes. So 50% of a point.'

You laugh. 'Not 75%.

'Who was my first celebrity crush?' he asked.

'Me,' you answer sarcastically.

Tom rose his card, covering his grin. 'Do you want to try again?'

'No,' you say. You knew what it was, you were taking the joke from him.

'Please?' he asked quietly.

You laugh at how wide his eyes were. 'Your first celebrity crush was Jennifer Anniston, ok.'

'Correct. But if I knew you back then, it would've been you.'

'Thanks, babe.'

'Ok, so I feel like you got pretty much every one of them,' said Tom, tucking his cards away.

'I feel like I did too, how ready do you feel Tom?' you asked.

Teasingly, he leant over, showing his forehead. 'See that? not a sweat. I've got this. Gimme some.'

'What are my dogs names?' you ask.

'Your oldest one is Padfoot, your youngest, the puppy dog is Moony.'

'Correct. Easy one. Ok, next, what is my favourite city?'

Tom's face dropped. 'That got harder so much quicker.'

'What? I thought this was easy.'

'Yea but it's between two. London or New York.'

'Well you've got them. I'd say right now it's New York though. Just because you're there,' you say jokingly.

'We're such a good couple.'

'The best. Lightning round. Favourite food?'

'Pizza.'

'Yes, favourite taylor swift album?'

'Folklore.'

'Easy. What is my favourite bag?'

Tom paused. 'It's a tote, your tote. Is it your waterstones one?'

Sadly, you shake your head. 'To be fair it's a new one i've got, it's my 'I heart new york one.'

Tom groaned. 'Of course it is, how did I not get that? I was literally with you when you brough it.'

'I have it with me today.'

'You do! oh my god, quickly move on before I get annoyed at myself.'

'Oh ok,' you grin down at the question and then pull a face, wondering yourself.

Tom watches, laughs and puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it affectionately. 'Are you alright? what's going on?'

'No, sorry, i'm just thinking about how to word this,' you pause and then, almost as if you weren't aware you were doing it, you hold onto his hand and ask the question. 'What is my favourite thing that you wear?'

Tom's expression matches your puzzled one. 'That I wear?'

'Yes. And I want you to take your time, think about it because you know it. And if you don't get this, we might be over,' you tell him.

Tom's jaw drops and he leans back in his chair, thinking. 'Don't say that!'

'Ok, it was a joke, sorry. But you do know this.'

Tom looks down at himself, but it was a new shirt and there was nothing special about these pants. The shoes were nice but you'd never cared for shoes. He checked his rings. You liked rings and you especially liked his rings but that couldn't have been it. 'Oh!' he almost kicked himself for not getting it sooner. 'Is it my- is it the necklace? he asks, pulling it from under his shirt.

'Yes!' you cheer, throwing the card over your shoulder and reaching over to high five him.

'I've never been so stressed in my life,' he laughed.

'So the necklace-' you start to explain to the camera as tom holds it out proudly, showing every crew and every camera as you laugh and smile at him. Never had you felt so in love. 'The necklace he wears all the time is the initial from the first letter of my name, just like-'

'Just like the Taylor Swift song,' finishes Tom, knowing how much you love it. Even now, you're smiling with teary eyes.

You had not brough it for him, but on your first anniversary Tom surprised you with it. You cried, wept. It was the first time you felt truly seen.

'I think you should sing it,' prompted Tom.

'I'm not singing it!'

'Go on! I love your voice!'

'No!'

'For me?' he asked.

You roll your eyes but don't really sing the song, you more say it: 'I want to wear his initials on a chain around my neck, not because he owns me, but because he really knows me, but obviously, it's you wearing mine so...'

'Thank you for watching our couples quiz!' Tom waves to the camera.

'All in all I think we're couple goals, yea?' you check.

'Oh, absolutely!'

And the show was all done, with you two waving. But the camera's didn't turn off quick enough to catch how Tom held your hand and kissed the inside of your palm.

Yea, absolutely in love.

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction #coryo #tom blyth x you #fame dr #tom blyth x yn

[lizleeships]

C a s u a l  I n t i m a c y  is my jam, I have no excuse

(Don’t repost)

--> Buy me a kofi? | Become a Patron to see the Mipple version 

Teeny contextual ficlet below the cut: 

“Cas, lay off already,” Dean huffs from the motel bed. 

He crosses his bruised arms behind his head and tries to force back a wince of pain as he slings a casual grin. 

“We’re in one piece, aren’t we?” 

The angel seems dangerously ruffled, and Dean really wants to focus on that like the awesome boyfriend he’s learned to be. The thing is though, Cas is stripped down to his boxers and an old black undershirt in preparation for his shower and it’s more distracting than a train crash. A sexy, sexy train crash. 

Okay yeah, he’s probably a bit concussed; maybe Cas is right for chewing him out. 

“You have to be more careful,” Cas insists, his voice doing that deliciously growly thing it does (which, again: not the time, Winchester), “I’m not what I used to be, and neither are you.”

“Wow, okay-”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re not getting any younger, and I’m not getting any more useful. On most days I barely have enough Grace to heal your razor nicks.”

A pang of irritation surges at that - because Dean is excellent at grooming, thank you- but instead of clapping back, Dean opts for a far more entertaining option. He reels the angel in by the towel ends draped around his shoulders, and plants a kiss right between his severely pinched eyebrows. 

“I’ll be more careful, okay?” is his murmured promise, “I swear on my Old Guy honour.”

“That’s not fair,” Cas complains, though he doesn’t move an inch. 

“What?” 

“You can’t just distract me when I’m trying to make a point. It’s extremely patronizing.” 

Dean chuckles and kisses the wrinkles which pleasantly frame Cas’ eyes, then the speckles of grey at his temples. 

“Yeah? Does that mean it’s working?” 

“Dean, this is serious.” 

The consternation on Cas’ face has only mildly ebbed through the affection, so Dean frames his features with his hands, bumps their foreheads together. 

“I know, sweetheart. I hear you.” 

Cas nods against him as he stands down, shoulders sinking on a deep exhalation. 

“Really. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Alright.” 

“But next time, maybe try making your point when you’re not half-naked, speaking of distractions. That’s playing dirty and you know it.”

Finally, Cas’ grave  expression breaks into a grin while Dean pulls him all the way down onto the bed.

“You’re ridiculous; I’m wearing clothes,” Cas objects. 

He makes himself at home in Dean’s lap, his fingers trailing absently over warm freckled skin. Dean looks up at him with a smirk.

“Yeah well, we’ll see about that.”

#destiel #destiel fanart #destiel fluff #so cheesy I might choke #hunter husbands #destiel ficlet #forehead kisses #domestiel

[denim-mixtapes]

All I Ever Wanted Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.8K Tags: Best friends to lovers, minor hurt/comfort, half-joking marriage proposals, VERY BRIEF fatphobic comment and general bad-date-behavior, really stupidly soft fluff, pet names instead of y/n.

Summary: Eddie has always been your best friend, the person you'd much rather spend your time with than going out on dates, but he swears he never wants to get married and likes to play the wingman for you, so you've come to terms with the fact that things will always just be platonic between you...or will they?

[AO3]

As the man in front of you chews his steak, open mouthed, and over-explains the American football scoring system you can’t stop your mind from wandering. Your fork pokes at your risotto absent-mindedly as you give your date a blank nod. Before this date, you were confident that a touchdown was worth six points, but the tone with which he’s speaking to you has you doubting yourself on a subject you honestly couldn’t care less about. 

Another nod and a soft “mhm,” prompts him to continue, however, so you figure you have another five to ten minutes of daydreaming before he decides to ask you another rhetorical question and speak over your answer.

Your date drones on, and you can’t help but wonder what you would be doing if you turned down this dinner to hang out with your best friend (like you originally wanted to). 

Sure, you shouldn’t be thinking about another man when you’re on a date, but Eddie Munson isn’t just some other man. He never has been. From the moment you joined Hellfire club in your freshman year, the man has been nothing less than a best friend to you. Even now, well into your twenties, he’s the only constant in your life. Dates come and go, but you’ll always have Eddie. 

Of course, you’ve always wondered if there could be something more there. After all, not a day goes by that you don’t speak. 

There’s a level of comfort between you two that you don’t think you’ve ever experienced even within your long term relationships. Hands that always seem to find each other, whispers passed across the small expanse of a shared bed during movie nights that went on for just a little too long. His shoulder felt like the comfiest pillow whenever you sat next to him on the couch, and he swears up and down that nobody is allowed to touch his hair, but he’s always begging you to braid it for him. Smiles passed over cocktail glasses and beer bottles after his band plays a show, his hand on your knee when he accompanies you to the latest play you’ve been dying to see. Every outing with your best friend feels more like a date than the last…but then he urges you to accept the drinks from strangers at the bar and convinces you to go on dates when other people ask, which is how you ended up here. Plus, he’s vehemently anti-marriage and laughs whenever you bring up your dream wedding, claiming he never wants to be tied down, so you know even if you did try to pursue something more than friendship with him, it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

Still, you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Yeah, you think as a bit of mashed potato flies from your date’s mouth, landing on the rim of your glass, you’d take a lifetime of platonic dates with Eddie over this any day. Even if platonic is all it will ever be.  

You manage to make it through dinner with a forced pleasant smile and a neck ache from nodding so much, but politely decline dessert in hopes to get out of the restaurant as soon as possible. 

“Atta girl,” the creep actually snorts, nose turned up and eyes pointed at your backside as you stand to leave. You also notice that the amount of cash he threw on the table would only account for a $0.47 tip on a nearly $30 bill, but that’s hardly relevant as he finishes his comment. “Gotta keep it tight, right? The chocolate cake really isn’t worth the risk.” 

His hand on your lower back feels slimy as he guides you out of the restaurant and you bite your tongue to hold back a venomous reply. 

When you stop in front of your car, you’re thanking every deity possible that you decided to meet him here rather than accepting his offer to drive you. The air is tense, thick with humidity and the impending horror that is the kiss he surely feels entitled to, but before he gets too close your hand flies out between you, stopping him in his tracks with an awkward grin. Reluctantly, he shakes your hand, still leaning in and hoping he might still get at least a little bit lucky. His smarmy smile raises the hair on the back of your neck when he promises to call you. 

You severely hope that he doesn’t. 

It isn’t until you take your keys out of the ignition ten minutes later that you realize in your skeeved out haze, your auto-pilot has brought you to Eddie’s driveway rather than your apartment complex. 

The lights inside are out, but a faint blue television glow in the living room window tells you that he’s home and more than likely awake. With a huff, you kick off your heels and throw them into the back seat, more interested in braving the rocks in the driveway than going another minute wearing the damn things, and make your way to the front door. You let yourself in with your spare key, but announce your arrival with a boisterous shout so you don’t startle him. 

“Hey! Just me!” You call, hanging your purse off of the barstool nearest the door and shedding your jacket. 

There’s a muffled greeting from the couch, and you look up to find Eddie waving and smiling around a mouthful of popcorn. After an exaggerated swallow, he repeats, “wasn’t expecting you tonight.” 

“Yeah,” you say with another dramatic huff, padding down the length of the trailer to his bedroom. He watches with amusement as you strut around his home as if it were your own, never once does he stop you, though. Already digging in his dresser drawers, you call out to him, “can I borrow some pajamas? I need to get out of these damn pantyhose.” 

His only response is a gentle laugh and a soft, “‘Course, doll.” 

There’s an electronic fizzle from beyond the door, and the blue light goes dark, followed soon enough by a light rapping of Eddie’s knuckles against the door left slightly ajar. You’ve just pulled on your favorite tee shirt of his (a threadbare tour shirt from Ozzy Osbourne’s Ultimate Sin concert, the tickets were his present from you for finally graduating) and a clean pair of boxers, so you wrench open the door to find him leaning casually on the frame, innocent smile fixed on his face. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks. 

Of course, he doesn’t really want to listen to you talk about your date. He never does, though he’d never admit it to you, but he’s gotten used to this particular kind of torture, and he’d rather hear you huff about the bad ones than gush about the good ones anyway. 

A heavy sigh hangs in the air between you, and you shrug as you flop ungracefully onto his bed, scooting higher to rest your feet on the headboard and flinging your arms out beside you haphazardly. The mattress dips beside you as Eddie lays down as well, head next to yours, feet dangling off the foot of the bed. His hair tickles at your ear where it fans out beside him, and you giggle as you reach up to tuck it away, turning your head to face him as best you can. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh one more time, “there isn’t much to say that couldn’t be said about the last one.”

“Did this one at least remember his wallet?” He asks, a bite in his tone that he usually reserves only for the men who treat you poorly.

You hum, hand still tangled in his hair. “Yeah, but the poor waitress deserved a much better tip than he gave her so I couldn’t leave without slipping a fiver on the table.” 

“You’re a saint, sweetheart.” He chides with a sole, warm ‘hmph’ of a laugh.

“Yeah well,” your own laugh is bitter, “he practically grabbed her ass and called mine too fat in the same breath, so I felt like I owed her something to apologize for his behavior.” 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” 

For all the anger in his words, his voice is soft. The air between you crackles with warmth, comfort. Eddie turns to face you, reaching up to hold onto your wrist as you continue to play with his hair thoughtlessly. His thumb strokes at the soft skin he finds there, warm brown eyes searching your own as you continue. 

“I wish.” You don’t want to admit what comes next, but the words flow on their own, damning you before you could even try to stop them. “...You know, I sometimes wonder why I even bother with these men when here you are, being absolutely perfect.” 

He beams with pride, eyes wrinkling at the corners like they always do when you catch him off guard with a compliment. He looks like sunshine and it makes your heart ache. 

“Well, I try my best.” The silence in his pause is familiar, not uncomfortable, both of you teetering on the edge of a giggle that you won’t fully let out. After another beat, he groans dramatically as he sits up, using his feet for momentum to stand fully. You watch as he stands in front of the mirror on his dresser and piles his hair atop his head, pulling a scrunched sort of face as he can’t get it to sit just right. “Anyway, you deserve it, you know.” He says, making eye contact with you in the reflection. “The best, that is.” 

You roll your eyes and sit up, scooting to the end of the bed and patting the spot in front of you. “Come here, before you make it worse.” 

He manages a sheepish smile and sits cross legged on the floor in front of you. As you finger comb out the tangles in his hair, slowly, and with quite a bit of resistance, you keep ranting, foolishly. You don’t notice that he preens at your touch, that he’s practically melting under your ministrations. He swears he’ll be a puddle of a man before you’re finished with the braid you’re working on, too focused on your playing in his hair that he zones out for a moment until your hands come to a stop, tying off the braid and patting his shoulders with one final, pathetic mumble. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just not meant to ever get married.” 

Eddie’s heart cracks along with the crack in your voice. 

He laughs, not maliciously, but dry and in disbelief, and he turns in place. Kneeling now, he wraps his arms around your waist and scratches absent-mindedly at your lower back. Eyebrows knit together with concern as he studies your face and realizes, while a little misguided, you’re serious. Eddie wants to argue, he wants to explain at great lengths how very untrue that is, how you’re still young and you’ll still find your person and that maybe you’ve already met your person and maybe he’s right here already on his knees in front of you…

…but all that comes out is a harsh, hissed, “fuck that.” 

Something unidentifiable in his eyes – hurt, maybe? – claws at your chest, constricting your heart in the same way that his arms squeeze your sides. 

Suddenly, eye contact with your best friend becomes the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Your eyes drop to where your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt, the tiniest shake to your head that you aren’t even sure he could detect. 

“Hey,” he says, voice tight but stern. Hands splay open on your back, and he ducks lower to meet your gaze. “Look at me.” 

Down the line, if anyone were to ask Eddie what made him say what he says next, he wouldn’t have a straight answer. Maybe it’s the tears pooling in your eyes that he desperately wants to stop from falling, or the way you reach out to hold his cheek when your eyes meet again. Maybe it’s the sick churning in his stomach, an uneasy, uncomfortable sort of feeling that he thinks might only go away if he tells you how he feels. Maybe some combination of the three. 

Whatever it is that makes him say it doesn’t matter, because he says it, and he says it with all the confidence in the world. 

“Shit, I’ll marry you,” he says softly, “just say the word.” 

A laugh bubbles from your lips, a tinny, wet little giggle, but it stops the tears from falling and it’s music to Eddie’s ears. You clear your throat, heart swelling at his words, and laugh again. 

At first you aren’t sure how to take the comment. Though his words are ripe with sincerity, it's clearly a joke. It has to be. He’s just trying to make you feel better. 

You wrinkle your nose and stroke his rosy cheekbone with your thumb, letting out another laugh. “What,” you say, dropping your hand to rest on his shoulder. “You wanna make one of those marriage pacts?” 

“Mariage what?” 

Eyes rolling, you squeeze his shoulder before scooting back up the bed to lay down. “You know,” you chuckle, working your way under the covers while Eddie stands to turn off the light. “If neither of us are married – which I know you won’t be – in ten years, we’ll marry each other.

“Nah,” he brushes off casually. The way he lands on the mattress beside you makes your whole body bounce and you giggle, he must have launched himself from the doorway to land like that. He props himself up on his elbow, one hand on his own cheek and the other reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, if that’s what you want. But I’d marry you tomorrow. Shit,” this time when he laughs, you can hear the nervous energy behind it. Your eyes search his face for any hint of a joke or tease, but all you find are deep, sincere eyes and a wrinkle between his worried brow. “I’d take you to the courthouse tonight in my Ozzy tee shirt if they were open.” 

“Eddie,” you scoff, pushing his shoulder playfully, but hiding your blush behind the covers. You’re not about to let yourself get excited, not yet, you’re still positive he’s just trying to cheer you up. “You hate the concept of marriage.”

“Maybe,” he mumbles, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips, smile widening, “but I love you.” 

You roll your eyes, certain at this point he must be messing with you. “I love you too, weirdo, but I’ll be fine. You don’t have to pity-marry me.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, falling to his back with almost manic laughter and scrubs his hands down his face. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“What!?” You ask incredulously, propping yourself up so now you’re the one leaning over him, fixing him with a squint and another shake of your head. 

He peers up at you through soft lashes, those damn round eyes roaming your face as he contemplates how much he wants to admit. There’s another rosy hint to his cheeks, and a darker one to the tips of his ears exposed by his pulled back hair. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to palm his cheek again. 

Your breath is shallow as you wait for his response, replaying the conversation over and over in your head and trying to piece it together. You fear he can hear your heart beating in your chest as it hammers against your ribs, but if he can he doesn’t show it. He only shows his own nerves, the pinch between his brows and stuttering breath.

Shit– is he really as nervous as he seems? Is this conversation really headed where you think? 

“I just –” he shakes his head, tearing his eyes from your face in lieu of looking at the ceiling. Eye contact seems to be hard for the both of you, now. “I just told you that I love you and that I would fuckin’ marry you tomorrow, and you think it was just pity. Sweetheart, you may be a little dense sometimes but I know you’re not stupid.” 

“Well, I-” 

“Don’t argue with me,” he sits up, elbows to his knees and looks over his shoulder at you. You think it’s an attempt to hide the way he blushes further, but his ears give him away as always. “Listen. Use the brain in that pretty little head, come on, up.” He reaches out his hand for yours and pulls you up to sit beside him when you take it. You instinctively hug your legs to your chest for some sort of comfort and rest your cheek on your knee, looking at him. He smiles gently and mirrors you, both of you laughing when he trips up trying to cross his ankles. He’s a little too tall to be pulling this position but he’s determined. 

You’re both still hanging on the edge of giggles when he speaks up again. “Do you realize how much I just love this?” He asks, nudging your shoulder with his own. “I may not like – or even fully understand why or you have to bring the government into a relationship, but if it means I get to spend the rest of my life doing stupid shit with you, or doing nothing at all with you…doing everything with you? Sign me up.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie,” you admit, smiling and hiding your face in your knees, suddenly shy. “You don’t have to marry me just to keep me around.”

Again he mumbles, “maybe not.” A slow smile spreads on his cheeks as he reaches out to cradle your cheek in his hand, turning your face back toward him so you could no longer hide from his affection. Your cheeks burn, a hot mix of your flushed skin and this new, suddenly more intimate way of Eddie touching you. It doesn’t feel quite as platonic as it used to. “But I don’t want you to just stick around.” He’s the one to look away, just briefly, at his admission. Like saying it out loud was just too much pressure. With a stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip, he locks back on your eyes. “Don’t wanna send you off on dates with creeps and pick up the pieces after, or smile and nod when someone wants to buy you a drink when we’re out together. I wanna take you on dates and make sure they’re damn good from the get-go…I want to call you mine.” 

You lean into his touch, grinning from ear to ear. “How come you never said anything before?” 

“I didn’t think I had to,” he laughs suddenly, throwing his hands up in self defense. You’d never admit it out loud, but you already miss the warmth of his palm when they drop back into his lap. “I thought I was pretty obvious, always takin’ you out on date-like-outings and telling you how stunning you look and…I dunno, I thought I’ve been flirting with you for quite some time now.” 

There’s no stopping the giggle that you let out in response, “Eddie, you flirt with everyone.” 

“Fair point.” 

Reaching out, you take his hand and fold it between both of yours, staring at them while you think over your next response. “So then…why did you encourage me to go on so many dates? Play the wingman? Even when I told you all I wanted to do was hang out with you?” 

His skin flushes crimson, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.” 

Despite the way your chest tightens at his words and the way they leave you breathless, you can’t help but reply, “you dumbass.” He’s taken aback by your words but you’re both laughing still, “I’m happy with you.” 

“Well don’t we make an odd, oblivious couple.” 

There’s a beat of comfortable silence between you, and then it happens the way everything does between you and Eddie: naturally. One moment you’re laughing about how blind you’ve both been, and the next his lips are on yours. He kisses you slow, lazy, and without urgency, like he has all the time in the world to show you how he feels, his lips working yours open while you hold onto a fistful of his shirt. 

This kiss is the perfect punctuation to a conversation that neither of you were prepared for. It’s the start to something new, but it feels so right that it hardly feels like the start of anything, like this is how it’s always been. 

When he first breaks the kiss, you’re immediately drawn back to him, almost magnetically. The second you take a shaky breath, inhaling his familiar scent and lingering smoke in the air, you pull him back in by the collar to return his kiss fervently, deeper than the last. Without breaking your embrace, Eddie guides you down onto the bed and hovers over you, swallowing your sigh when he grips your waist tightly. His lips are softer than you’d imagined, but heavenly velvety against yours, and you can’t stop yourself from taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging with a coy smile. 

He hums, holding your face in place and peppering you with a few, smaller, chaste pecks before dropping a single kiss to the tip of your nose and then your forehead. 

There’s a twinkle in his eye when he asks, “so are we gettin’ married tomorrow, or what?” 

“Hmm,” your fingernails scratch at the nape of his neck gently as you dramatically  ponder his proposal and his eyes flutter shut at the sensation. “How about I start as your girlfriend for a little bit? And then maybe save marriage for…the third date.” You giggle, and you pause, the sincerity of your next comment choking you up before it even leaves your lips. “I love you, too, Eds. I just realized I never said it back, not really.” 

There’s a rumble of laughter in his chest where your head now rests, “yeah, you deserve that big dream wedding, anyway. None of that courthouse shit. When it comes time, you’re getting the works.” Another kiss dropped to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there and fingers drawing little circles in the skin of your shoulder. “But that takes time to plan, so…third date it is.”

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #female!reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fluff

[rainylana]

“Don’t cry.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a spa session with your new boyfriend turns out to be both of your breaking points.

requested by anonymous! i hope you like it and that I did it justice! i kind of took it and ran. i made it much more deep than i initially planned, so i hope you like it!

warnings: talk of sexual abuse and rape, with both eddie and reader, angst and tears, language, mentions of drug dealing and absent parents. reader is struggling to connect with eddie and he doesn’t know why, kinda leaves in a cliffhanger??

Sometimes Eddie wondered if you liked him, because half the time it didn’t seem like you did. You’d become stand-offish, quiet, shrink in on yourself. His “Are you okay?” was always met with an “I’m fine.” and nothing more. It always seemed like you were protecting yourself. Not just from him, but from everyone. You loved his friends, but sometimes they scared you. You never knew who to trust. Would one of them hurt you, given the chance?

One thing was for sure though, you loved Wayne. He was like the father you never had growing up. From the way he talked, looked, his personality, it reminded you of a father. Eddie was extremely lucky to grow up with him while he did.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, however, he knew some of your behavior had to do with your upbringing. You’d shared some of it with him before, time and time again, here and there. You’d grown up pretty similarly to him. Dead beat parents that abused you, surrounded by their friends who eyed you like a piece of meat for them to chew on. When you grow up like that, you’re bound to be a little messed up. Eddie understood that. He was the same way.

But with you, it was different. He didn’t want you to feel that way around him. The relationship hadn’t been going on for that long and was still fairly fresh, but he wanted you to trust him. And even dating might have been a stretch, you were just very good friends who weren’t very good friends with anyone else.

You liked Eddie, maybe even loved him, but there was no lying when it came to the fact you were struggling to connect with him. Could you really trust him? Was he just like the men from your childhood? Would he fuck you and ultimately leave once he got his full satisfaction? You’d cried yourself to sleep many of times during the night at the thought.

Sometimes you didn’t feel safe. Not with him, not with his friends. You only ever felt truly safe with Wayne. You didn’t know why. You hated the way you felt. Eddie was a good man. He was good to you. He had yet to do anything that proved otherwise. But the dark corners of your mind lingered closer and closer to the edge, reminding you of what once was your reality on the daily. You hoped this time it was different.

“I like this color on you.” Eddie’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, one hand holding your foot, the other holding the brush of the pink nail polish bottle. “It’s cute.”

“Pink?” You smirked. “You like pink?”

“On you.” His lashes fluttered up to you briefly.

The gesture was cute, but anytime he did something sweet like this you couldn’t help but think if he was luring you into a trap. Your stomach was littered with jitters and nerves. Day by day your anxiety was staring to become more out of control. You thought about ending things with him. It wasn’t fair to him to not give the relationship your all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d miss him dearly.

“Well, thanks.” You smiled softly. “I don’t like painting them by myself. The angle is too hard.”

He muttered a Mhm with his tongue out, blowing on your little toe so the pain would dry. “I used to paint my nails black when I was a teenager.” He said.

“Really?” You said amusedly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Got out of the habit, I guess.” He dipped the brush back in the bottle. “Plus, not that I cared, but kids at school were givin’ me shit about it.”

You knew Eddie had the same childhood you did, in some sense anyways. Eddie wouldn’t talk about it much, especially never about his mother. But his dad was something you knew struck a nerve. You should share your traumas together, that’s what you always told yourself. You knew you both could relate to one another, but the relationship was still too fresh. Maybe neither was ready for that.

“Want me to do your fingers?” Eddie asked, blowing on your last toe as he finished up his fine work. “I gotta say, babe, I did pretty good.”

You flexed your freshly painted toes and grinned at his work. “You did! Thank you.”

He put the bottle on the table and plopped down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “So what now? What’s next on the spa list?” He smirked and you did the same, laughing breathily.

“I won’t make you succumb to all my girly stuff.” You laughed. “Anything I can do for you? Your hair looks like it needs brushed a little.”

“What?” He gave you an incredulous look. “I keep my hair very much maintained, thank you.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t, Eddie.” You rolled your eyes. “All I said was it needed brushed a little.”

You hopped up and got your plastic hairbrush from the bathroom, pointing at him with it when you returned. “Your turn to be pampered. Sit on the floor.”

He shook his head amusedly and sat down where you had, your legs falling at the sides of his shoulders as you gently began combing out his curls. He didn’t mean to, but he sighed in content.

“Feel good?” You gave a shit eating grin.

“You’re a-lot gentler than Wayne used to be.” He relaxed under your touch. “He always pulled at my hair and got it more ratted up than it already was. This feels good.”

You smiled at the mention of Wayne. “Well, I’ve got a woman’s touch, honey.”

“Yes, you do.”

It was quiet and peaceful for a while as you brushed his hair, the both of you content in the silence. When he touched your ankle, caressing it, your heart began to pound. You hadn’t had sex with him yet. You were too scared to. You knew it was time, it had been almost two months and you knew Eddie had long since been ready to sleep with you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You did. You fantasized about him just as much as he did you, but you were terrified of him leaving once you finally crossed that line. Out of instinct, you brought your legs up to you, sitting criss-cross like he was.

You heard him sigh and your stomach ached with guilt. You should give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry.” You say guiltily.

“You never let me touch you.” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ground as you continued to brush his hair. “And you won’t tell me why.”

Your eyes teared up and you stopped brushing, bringing it down to your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you say.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry. You just need to tell me why I scare you so bad.”

“You don’t.” You denied, trying your hardest to convince him. When he said things like this, you felt foolish for thinking the way that you did. “It’s just- it’s- it’s just me.”

Eddie turned around, looking up at you to find you with tears in your face. “If it wasn’t true you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t I deserve the truth, Y/n? Have I don’t anything at all to make you scared of me?”

“No.” You sniffled, getting off the couch to go into the kitchen of his trailer. “You haven’t.”

Eddie watched you, becoming more and more anxious by the second. He sat there, waiting for his answer, anything but no. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head wildly. “No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t even like me, Y/n.” He scoffed to himself, closing in, becoming cold and shutting down. Something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You won’t open up to me. I can barely touch you. You look like you’re disgusted to be around me.”

“That’s not true!” You snapped, taking a step toward him. “Stop saying shit like that!”

“Then you say something for a change!” He argued back, not moving from his spot on the floor.

“But it’s so stupid!” You shook your head. “It’s ridiculous!”

He gave you a look. He was waiting and he wouldn’t back out this time. Either that, or he was going to break up with you. The thought made you want to vomit. Maybe you did care more deeply for him than you were letting on.

“We don’t talk about what happened when we were kids,” You sighed through tears, voice breaking. “We’re..both the same, but we don’t talk about it.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as you began, wondering after all, if he wanted to hear where you were going with this.

“Mom wasn’t around, so that left dad and his friends.” You stared at him, being as open and honest as you could now. There was no beating around the bush with this. “I…Jesus,” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal at the time, but they’d…they’d use me.” You took a deep breath after the last word. No stopping now.

“They would play poker, touch me, rape me.” You weren’t crying anymore, talking mostly to yourself now at this point. “And I know you would never do that to me, Eddie, but sometimes I’m so afraid of it happening again and I just shut down.” You closed your eyes. “You touch me and I’m so afraid you’ll abandon me once we sleep together. That’s all anyone has ever done in my life.”

“Fuck me, then leave.” You sniffled. “That’s all they ever do.”

Eddie’s eyes were drooping, slightly narrowed and brows furrowed. He shook his head softly, you almost missed it, and you knew you’d made him at a loss for words.

He looked up to you briefly, licking his lips before he spoke. “There was this one guy my dad would deal for,” He began. “He was a big dude, almost seven foot. I was only thirteen. But dad would bring him into the house and he…would look at me. Just watch me wherever I went.” He stared at his hands, not daring to look at you.

“I think he payed dad.” His voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall. “Because I screamed and screamed and he wouldn’t come.”

You let out an audibly gasp and covered your mask, your heart falling to the floor with a splat.

“Oh, god, Eddie,” You crawled to the floor and knelt beside him.

“It’s okay.” He stopped your apologies. “I didn’t tell you for you to be sorry for me. I told you because you need to know you’re not alone, and not everyone is out to get you. You’re safe with me. I want you to believe that.”

You let out a wet sob, tears rolling down your red face. “How do I stop being scared? I want to be with you.”

He smiled softly, a finger swiping at a tear. “We have all the time in the world for that, angel.”

You grabbed his arm and laid your head against his shoulder, sobbing like a broken child.

“Oh, baby,” He kissed your forehead. “Don’t cry.”

It would be a long road to recovery, but you could both do it together. Slowly, every day you would both open up to each other about what you went through, and day by day, it would get easier.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #requests #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

[cloudwhisper23]

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You���re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

#cloud speaks #cloud writes #michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #gregory fnaf #evan afton #henry emily #fnaf au #ballpit au except they have wings #and ye #only took nine days this time #lol #happy.... um #not birthday #I hope you enjoy! #and y'all #I'm so happy about how this turned out #so humor me aight? #XD #art trade

[verahella]

♡ 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐅. 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 ♡

megumi would cross oceans, move mountains, hang the stars up and even throw gojo satoru off a cliff for you. (that last one was not related to him personally whatsoever).

so when you asked him to look after your dog while you were away on a business trip, he agreed easily. after all, he had a divine dog and they were practically the same, right?

wrong.

turns out your dog was just as charmingly conniving as you. but instead of trying to steal kisses like it’s owner did, it had resorted to annoying megumi to the brink of insanity.

he had fed it, took it out on a walk, gave it toys that were now chewed up and spat out, yet all of it was for naught. he even summoned his shikigami since he suspected your dog was lonely and the furry little thing stared at it like it was a traitor.

as he lay on the couch, exhausted from the eventful day and considering hiring an actual dogsitter, your voice popped up in his head. “give him a shower if he’s restless. he likes those.”

and so there crouched megumi on the floor of your bathroom at almost midnight, your dog restrained to the bathtub after much convincing and manhandling.

“do you ever shut up?” he grumbled, searching through the cabinets for shampoo. he found a whole lot of rubbish—he was going to have to help you clean once you returned—but no dog shampoo. a pink bottle caught his attention and he opened it, praying with every last bit of his thinning patience that he wouldn't have to go to a dog salon.

the scent of lavender and citrus filled the air. megumi recognised it as the perfume you use and though disappointment flooded him, he couldn't help but soften at the familiar smell. and so did your dog, it seemed, as it jumped out the tub and ran towards the smell, barking loudly.

“what--” megumi watched as his vessel of torture for the whole day turned silent, curling around the plastic bottle protectively and chewing it.

oh.

the smell.

“so you just missed your owner, hm?” he reached out, scratching the dog’s ear. it didn't turn to bite him. it really did miss you, he mused. he couldn't blame the dog; your presence absent by his side felt wrong to him too.

megumi sighed, taking away the bottle before it’s teeth started to leave dents in it. “how about i call them before dinner? and in turn, you don't cause any more trouble and cause your neighbours to kick us out.”

the dog stared at him blankly before hopping back into the tub.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” he muttered, turning on the tap.

turns out, your beloved dog did keep his promise and so did megumi. and you got a new lock screen of your two favourite boys (who then onwards managed to get along well), curled up on the couch fast asleep.

#megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #yes I know I’m amazing at titles #can u tell i don’t like dogs

[suashii]

— 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓊𝓁 ౨ৎ

haitani rindou x reader. 2.1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mentions of alcohol ﾉ explicit language ﾉ suggestive ending

something’s off.

rindou has been awake for no more than thirty seconds but he can tell—something’s off. there’s no dip in the mattress beside him. your warmth is absent from his hold. he can’t smell your shampoo, can’t feel the plush of your skin beneath his fingers. your spot is empty and cold. you’re gone.

he shoots up into a sitting position, fingernails digging into the threads of the sheets, strands of lavender hair sticking to the beads of sweat on his forehead. the sudden jolt sends a piercing throb through his skull.

“ah, fucking hell,” he swears, a hand coming up to hold his head. he squeezes his eyes shut and snarls at the uncomfortable sensation. every pound that strikes his cranium is heavy and loud as if they are beats of a drum. why is his head throbbing?

“are you okay?”

soles of slippers drag against the carpet, the soft sound accompanying that of your voice. it’s loud enough for rindou to hear but quiet enough so as to not aggravate his ailment. his pulsating headache persists but hearing your voice gives him a different sense of relief.

“where’d you go?” he ignores your question, choosing to ask one of his own. rindou drags his eyes up from his lap to meet yours.

“the store,” you wave the plastic bag out in front of you as you make your way to join him on the bed. stepping out of your slippers, you take a seat on the mattress at rindou’s feet, tucking your own beneath your thighs so you are sitting cross-legged. “had to pick up a few things.”

“i told you that i don’t like you leaving without telling me.”

his statement comes off as possessive and overbearing, but you know that it’s far from it—in fact, you consider it to be the opposite. though it may not seem like it to outsiders, rindou’s insistence on knowing where you are at all times stems from a place of love; it’s his way of protecting you. your known association with rindou makes you a target for enemies of bonten—and they have plenty. he worries for your safety and in an attempt to not bombard you with security details, rindou’s one ask is that you keep him informed on where you travel without him.

“would you rather i have woken you up?” you ask, picking out the items from the bag and setting them beside you. you hadn’t planned on going to the store but it was clear that you needed to pick up a few things, all of which were for rindou. pain relievers, a green smoothie, and honey graham crackers because you know he prefers them over the saltine ones.

“yes, actually.” he runs a hand over his forehead to brush all of the hair pasted there away.

you smile at his bluntness. in the time you’ve been with rindou, you’ve grown familiar with his direct way of speaking; you’d even go as far as to say that you enjoy it. you never have to wonder what’s on his mind when he speaks so freely.

your nimble fingers work at opening the cardboard box housing the crackers. you grab a sleeve, tear the plastic, and carefully pull out one of the brown rectangles. you hold it out to rindou as a form of apology. “i’m sorry. i just thought you could use all the sleep you could get after last night.”

“about that,” he says, accepting the snack from your hand. he takes a bite from the corner. crumbs fall from his mouth down to the sheet covering his legs but he can’t be bothered to clean up the mess. “what exactly did i get into?”

rindou is having a hard time recollecting the events of the previous night. if you asked him how he spent the rest of his day after work, he wouldn’t be able to tell you much. one thing he is sure of, though, is that he and most of the executives of bonten went out to celebrate a successful arms deal. everything after that is fuzzy.

“mm,” you hum, stealing one of the crackers to take for yourself. you mimic his actions, biting a small piece off from the corner and chewing thoughtfully. “i’m not too sure. ran called me saying that you were drunk off your ass and kept asking for me. so i went and picked you up from the bar.”

he swallows thickly, your words sparking recognition within him. most of it is still unclear, but rindou can piece together a vague picture.

“c'mon, rindou, don’t be a pussy.” sanzu sang from across the man while holding out another shot.

he ignored the glass, opting to flick his pink-haired associate off instead.

“what’s the matter? you lost your touch or something?” koko spoke up from beside him, throwing back a shot of his own. a grin pulled at his lips as he narrowly eyed rindou.

rindou scoffed, practically snatching the drink from sanzu and taking it down in one motion. he turned to koko with a smirk of his own. “fuck you.”

the seemingly never-ending drinks continued to pile on for the remainder of the night. rindou prides himself on having a heavy tolerance, and he does for the most part, but as memories of him calling out for you flooded his brain, it was clear that he had overdone it. not once before last night could he recall a time when he’d gotten so drunk that he was virtually begging to see you.

your lips curl upward at his silence. it’s not often that you find yourself in a position where you hold something over his head. after the events of last night and his uncharacteristic behavior, it would be a waste not to poke some fun at him.

“y'know,” you start, reaching for the pack of hangover relief pills. “i could barely drive home because you kept trying to climb over the console.”

a smirk lingers on your lips as you tear open the small package and shake the medicine out into your hand. you hum and point to rindou’s closed fist resting on his thigh. he catches on quickly, turning his hand over to receive your offer. the tablets drop from your fingers into his open palm.

“i didn’t do that.” rindou denies, tossing the pills into his mouth and promptly swallowing. his throat is parched and he wants to blame it on the fact that he had just taken pills without water but in reality, it’s because the information resurfacing is difficult for him to believe.

“okay, maybe that was an exaggeration,” you laugh. his adamant rejection of your claim only makes you want to tease him even more. “but you’re totally a clingy drunk.”

lilac eyebrows furrow as rindou thinks back to the ride home from the bar.

“rin, cut it out or i’ll crash the car.” you quickly slapped his wandering hand away before returning yours to the steering wheel.

a loud, whiney groan filled the otherwise silence of the car. “why don’t you want to hold my hand?” you glanced over to see rindou’s head rolling back and hitting the headrest of his seat. his eyes were squeezed shut but it was clear that he was frowning at your refusal of affection.

you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a giggle. was this the same stoic man you had come to know? it looked like a shot too much was all it took to turn him into a nearly unrecognizable and touchy variant of your boyfriend. “i do, but we have to do it when we get home. i have to drive now.”

rindou turned to you with narrowed eyes but there was an uncontrollable grin of excitement tugging at his lips. “promise?” he asked.

you nodded. “i swear.”

as if it weren’t bad enough that you reminded him of that awkward conversation, rindou is beginning to piece together the moments afterward, specifically, when you pulled into the parking garage. if he looked down at his hand, he’s sure he’d be able to feel the ironclad grip he had on you as soon as you two got out of the car. the thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“i am not clingy.” he shakes his head, partly to disagree with your words but also to rid himself of the embarrassing memories.

“hmm, maybe not.” you play along although you have a clear recollection of last night. you figure that his denial must stem from a place of pride because if he had been in your shoes, if the roles were reversed, you're positive that he’d be pestering you about how handsy you had been.

“you’re pretty dependent, though,” you continue. there’s one more interaction you’re itching to bring up. “i’d even go as far as saying needy.”

rindou falls back to lie on his pillow. he has a feeling your statement only means more humiliation for him. despite that, he can’t ignore the tiny bit of curiosity that’s nagging at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

a knowing smile creeps its way onto your lips as you crawl to sit beside him. amethyst eyes meet yours, the brows above them raising in question. “you don’t remember me having to brush your teeth?”

“open,” you instructed rindou, poking his cheek with your index finger. he sat on the lid of the toilet, head lolling from side to side.

your simple direction went in one ear and out the other as rindou ignored your request. instead, he puckered his lips and leaned forward.

“we can do that later,” you assured him, gently pushing him back into his former position. “say ah.” you opened your mouth hoping that he would follow your example.

thankfully, he mimed your actions this time around. tipping his chin up, you began to brush his teeth. the process went smoother than the prep and the man stayed still as you cleaned each of his teeth.

“c'mon, time to spit.”

you helped him up from his seat and led him to the sink. too busy turning on the faucet, you didn’t notice rindou quickly approaching. his lips pressed to the side of your face in an open-mouthed kiss.

“rindou!” you pulled away, snatching the nearest towel to wipe the foam he left behind on your cheek and the corner of your mouth. he’s going to be the death of me, you thought as you tossed the towel into the hamper. you spun on your heel to face your drunk mess of a boyfriend. “i said later.”

“it was later.” his words came out jumbled due to the toothpaste lingering in his mouth. the froth was starting to drip down to his chin.

you sighed. “just rinse, please.”

rindou covers his face with his palms. his cheeks are burning hot; they must be visibly red. he would have been better off remaining clueless about the previous night’s activities.

“i’m never drinking again,” he said through a groan.

“aw, i thought it was cute.” you pull his hands away and flash him a smile. his rapidly beating heart calms at the sight. “but you should probably set a limit for next time. you’re kind of a handful.”

he huffs out a laugh. based on everything he pieced together and your first-hand account, “handful” is an understatement. he didn’t think it was possible for him to act in such a way but it seems that even the inconceivable was achievable.

you pat rindou’s shoulder. “you go shower while i make breakfast. unless you think you’ll need my help in there, too.” you jokingly wiggle your eyebrows.

he smirks. “are you offering?”

“god, you’re shameless.” your hand comes down to playfully smack his bare chest. you jerk your head in the direction of the bathroom. “go.”

you make a move to get off the bed and start toward the kitchen, but rindou catches your hand before you can leave. you look at your joined hands and then to him. a glint of mischief passes through his wisteria eyes. “are you really going to make your clingy, needy, handful of a boyfriend shower all alone?”

the flustered rindou who might as well have been wishing the earth would swallow him whole only minutes ago is nowhere in sight. as cute as that unexpectedly soft and affectionate version of your boyfriend was, you’d be lying if you said you preferred it over the side you’d grown accustomed to.

“fine.” you click your tongue. a beat of silence passes before you accusingly point your finger at him. “but i’m not doing all the work like last night.”

rindou drops your hand, opting to hold your cheek instead. “of course you aren’t. i’m going to make it up to you.”

thanks for giving this a read! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: tokyo revengers #rindou x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou fluff #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #rindou drabble #tokrev drabbles #tokyo revengers drabbles

[tokyo-terror]

GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HCS !

characters: 141 + graves

phillip graves:

☆ southern boy lvl rizz, only he has absolutely zero rizz. the first time he met you he almost exploded because he's not used to talking to non-military people, what else is he supposed to talk abt other than unit stuff??

☆ probably gets his ideas from random movies he saw when he was younger (the black and white cowboy ones, but make it less misogynistic). classic flowers at your doorstep with the awkward :] kinda smile.

☆ can cook but never gets the chance to do it because he's always at the base, so the first thing he does when he spends the night he cooks a full course meal (he fucks up the dessert but it's ok 🤞)

☆ random gifts and acts of service is this man's lovee language, and it goes both ways. he melts at being given little things and is always ready to help around the house without being asked.

simon "ghost" riley:

☆ NOT A HARDASS!!! leave my bbg alone .. he's a very sweet guy. he's not very used to not being alone, so he relies on banter and easy conversation to fully enjoy and get used to a person's presence. not very fond of labels, but he finds comfort in the agreement of being each others.

☆ he's always willing to put himself on the line for you, even when his own comfort is at stake. so he tends to be a bit self-destructive if he accidentally goes too fast, he relies on a balance of being able to count on you for a steady rhythm

☆ follows you (and soap) around like a lost dog a lot, he just enjoys being able to be around people he trusts. especially when he's able to joke abt stuff that's happening in the moment, lots of food puns when cooking.

☆ stomach sleeper 100%. lets you lay on top of him so he can be weighed down and surrounded by his comfort items. can't sleep without at least 5 weighted blankets + you so warm nights are very common, but he runs cold so it's not a problem.

john "soap" mactavish:

☆ very work-focused guy, so he likes to plan his schedule around missions and you. always double-checking and asking what works best for you. if schedules don't line up, the next outing tends to always have a surprise.

☆ (canonically) scared of dogs, so whenever he passes by pet shops with you he always gets happy to see all the other animals but avoids the parts of the shop with the dogs. tries to talk you into getting obscure animals often, ends up with a cat that he tries naming sgt whiskers. it's named kevin instead bc animals w human names >>

☆ he chews on a lot of things when he's working with bombs, so his habits transfer onto you. he's always absent-mindedly chewing on something when having quiet moments with you, even trying to chew on you if you let him

☆ unironically very proud of being scottish (he's so real), so he likes bringing things from his home into yours. very big on the idea of blending and sharing stuff, so he likes getting things that are common in your country and vice versa :)

kyle "gaz" garrick:

☆ not shy, but a very hesitant and nervous guy. he takes a bit to build up enough of a relationship with you to where he asks you out because he's nervous to let people into his life that could potentially get hurt/end up with his dogtags.

☆ he's on the snarky side with his humor, always tending to take little jabs at the people around him to make you laugh. he loves making you laugh, probably has the candid videos of you laughing so he can play them while he's away on missions

☆ shower routine that he cannot seem to break when he's home, he always ends up bringing military issues soaps and towels from base because he swears it's the best (it's not). please give that boy some dove 🙏 he secretly (not really, he's very open abt it) loves the strawberry-scented dove soaps.

☆ collects different buttons from outfits he wears when they eventually pop off, so he starts collecting yours too. jeans that don't fit? he already has the buttons in a box with your name on it. old shirt of his that you wore? in the box.

☆ old man rizz 😿 religiously meets up with friends to play poker. he ends up teaching you how to play and lets you win because he thinks it's endearing. cannot play chess though, so he never plays bc he wants to impress you

john price:

☆ talks highly of his unit to you, and always tells his unit that his spouse wouldn't approve of what they're doing when they go against orders. the 141 walks on eggshells around you until price laughs and fesses up about lying

☆ beard routine, type of guy that has special oils and conditioners specifically for his beard. it becomes a nightly routine when he's off the field to let you do it for him after he showers. splurges and gets you hair/beard care stuff too.

☆ takes you fishing when he goes on leave. if you're not into fishing he just lets you sit in the boat and relax while he does all the work, but he enjoys it when you take an interest in his hobbies. gets you your own fishing rod and has you look up new bait ideas (he can't figure out phones).

#mwii x reader #mw2 x reader #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #bro theres sm tags #mb #thsgsishsjb props if u looked at all of em

[myadmiringmind]

Routine | Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin Masterlist

Summary: When the full moon comes around some things are always the same while some things differ. All you and your friends can do is your best to comfort the werewolf you all love.

Genre: Fluff, angst? (Rem in discomfort)

Pairing(s): Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Nightmares, depression, cursing, food, loss of appetite, difficulty sleeping, mentions of blood, and wounds (let me know if I missed anything)

Note(s):

Established Relationship

In the beginning all characters are in their 6th year

Cariad = Love

|PICTURES DO NOT BELONG TO ME|

————————————————————

No one could truly ever tell how Remus would act around the full moon and to whom. So you could only ever prepare for the constants.

Remus was always physically and mentally drained as his body was preparing him for the transformation. His body would ache. Some months could be much more painful than other months. He was always tired, unable to sleep more than three hours if he was lucky. He was normally restless and tended to bounce his knee, chew on his nails or lip, and fidget with things around him.

Some months he was more angry than anything, others he was more depressed. A week before the full moon was the earliest these side effects occurred. It might start earlier in the week or the middle or at the latest a couple days before.

Walking into the great hall, your eyes immediately searched for your love. Upon seeing him you examined his posture and believed you knew what type of day today would be.

When you got closer you saw James piling some of Remus’ favorite foods on the plate in front of him. Your boyfriend had his hands covering his ears. You believed this to be a subconscious movement to keep out all the noise of the great hall.

James noticed you first, sending you a grateful smile as you sat next to Remus. Far enough to not startle him but close enough so that he could sense your presence.

“Hey, honey.” You said softly to alert him that it was you beside him, but not too quietly that he couldn’t hear you.

You didn’t hear what he mumbled but you took it as a greeting. You gently placed your hand on his back and rubbed it in hope to ease his tension.

Remus was always distant at first, the insecurities plagued his mind. You just needed to be consistent and slowly move towards him.

In the beginning you sat awkwardly next to him. James chatted with Sirius as the black haired boy played wizards chess with Peter. James continued to stuff more food on Remus’ plate, doing his best to encourage him to eat.

Soon enough, Remus allowed himself to find comfort in your presence, and ate a few bites of the food James had given him. It wasn’t enough, but you knew he was trying.

Sirius slammed his hands on the table in frustration from the loss of the chess match. Remus jumped slightly, which earned Sirius a glare from you.

“Sorry, Moons.” He sounded sorry, so you let it go.

Remus just snuggled further into you, taking deeper breaths in an attempt to calm himself. The position the two of you were in was odd to the eye, but it was the best, and most comfortable you could do at the grand tables.

Soon, the owls entered, dropping packages, and hooting loudly. Two packages that were nearly the exact same in size and shape landed in front of James and Sirius.

The two of them grinned and picked their packages up at the same time. If you weren’t so worried about Remus, you would’ve laughed at how similar James and Sirius’ movements were.

“Gifts from Effie.” Sirius grinned at your questioning gaze.

You watched curiously as James and Sirius opened the packages. They both pulled out a delicately wrapped box of sweets and a pouch of coins. 

“For the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.” Sirius said absent-mindedly, he gave Remus a sympathetic look knowing that the full moon was this weekend.

“Come on, let’s go back to our dorm.” James said, after he placed the items back into his own box.

You nodded, and rubbed the back of Remus’ neck before whispering James’ words to Remus.

He nodded and stood up, swaying slightly. You were quick to grab his hand and walk with him out of the great hall. You tried to persuade him into leaning on you but he was still well aware that if he were to fall, he would crush you.

Thankfully, Peter was at Remus’ other side, helping support some of his weight. While Sirius hung behind, and James led.

You saw his shoulders visibly relax when you were far enough away from the noise that was the great hall.

————————————————

“Under the cloak you go.” James said, throwing his invisibility cloak over you and Remus.

If someone were to see you going into the marauders dorms, talk would arise and it wouldn’t be good for any of you.

When in their dorm, Remus subconsciously moved towards his bed and flopped down as if he had worked tirelessly all day long, even though it wasn't even noon.

You sat on the edge of his bed. Remus, sensing your proximity, moved so that his head laid in your lap.

All the marauders kept glancing at Remus in worry. James the most. So it wasn’t a shock when said boy spoke up, “He should stay in the dorm today.”

You nodded in agreement, “I’m gonna stay too.”

“You sure?” It was Sirius

“One of us could stay with him.” Peter offered

You shook your head, sending them off to class with a murmur of thanks.

Looking down, you noticed Remus had fallen asleep. You smiled, knowing around these times he got all his sleep from naps.

———————————

Hours later you were awoken from the firm grip on your thighs. Remus’ head was shaking, eyes scrunched up and he was sweating.

You caressed his face, trying to comfort him. He seemed to relax a little.

“Remus.” You called gently, shaking him awake.

It took him a few minutes to come to terms as to where he was.

“What time is it?” He asked quietly.

You glanced around for a clock, before noticing the muggle kid watch you had bought for James last year as a gag gift. You squinted trying to make out the time.

“About two hours after noon.” You answered, trying to relieve the tension in your back and shoulders without disturbing Remus.

Remus groaned in annoyance. He moved to try and get up, but the hand you placed on his back easily convinced him to give up and continue to lay down.

“You should try to get some more sleep.” You said, pushing the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead away from his face.

“No use.” He answered and your heart aches for him.

“I should start you a bath.” You moved to gently lift Remus’ head from your lap but he halted you with a grab of your wrist.

“Don’t leave.” He whined, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m just gonna run a bath for you so you don’t have to sleep in your own sweat.” You tried

“I don’t care.” Remus begged

You effectively placed Remus’ head into the bed despite his protests.

You were more concerned when he moved to sit up. Even in pain, he moved fast, so you couldn’t stop him.

He delicately wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his forehead against your stomach. Despite having his arms around you, you could barely feel him. You knew he was denying the want of tightening his hold on you, afraid of being seen as selfish.

You moved for him, pressing his arms around you tighter and moved closer to him so he could bury his face in your stomach.

“You’re allowed to want things, Rem. All you have to do is ask me.” You said, rubbing up and down the back of his neck.

“I don’t want you to leave me.” You knew he meant more of a break-up sense than a physical sense.

“I’m not going to, my love.” The sound of your endearment caused a small cry from his lips.

“I hate it so much.”

You couldn’t even imagine all the pain and suffering Remus had to constantly go through.

“I know, is there anything more I can do to help?” You asked

“Just be here.” He answered quietly

“I promise.” You assured him.

———————————————

Eight Years later 

“Don’t fuss, Cariad, It’s not that big, I swear.” Remus chuckled painfully, watching you tend to a wound on his stomach.

“It’s bigger than I’d like.” You mumble through the flush on your cheeks.

“It was quite an angry moose, but I rather a wound from him than my own claws.” Remus said

You froze for a moment then picked back up where you left off, not sure if or how you should respond to that.

Remus’ hiss stopped you from a rabbit hole of negative thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You said absent-mindedly

“That’s enough cleaning, don’t you think, love?” 

“Just a little more.” You promised.

When Remus was all bandaged and done he hummed gratefully. 

“So,” He began, resting his hands on your hips as you disposed of the bloody cloths. “How should I repay you for taking such good care of me?” 

You hummed, acting as if you were in deep thought, “A kiss or two should be enough payment for me.” 

Remus chuckled, “Have I not given you enough kisses today?” 

You shook your head, “You never do.”

The man scoffed teasingly, “I thought I gave you a healthy amount, but it seems I've begun to spoil you.” 

“Your fault.” You said affectionately, leaning down while making not to touch a wound. 

One kiss. Two kisses. Three kisses. 

He hummed, pressing one kiss to your cheek, “I thought my payment was two kisses.” 

“I changed my mind.” You smiled, resting your forehead against his. 

“My silly women.” He caressed your cheek.

“Sorry, Rem. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Then I shall die the happiest man.”

#harry potter #harry potter universe #harry potter fluff #remus x reader #young remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #young remus x reader #young remus imagine #young remus lupin x reader #remus x you #remus lupin #the marauders fluff #the marauders era

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Picture Perfect - Smallville!Clark Kent x Reader

A/N: Inspired by the song Picture Perfect by Angela Via. pairing: Smallville!Clark Kent x f! reader warnings/content: fluff, mutual pining, one singular swear word. word count: 2.2k

I should be yours, baby, you should be mine. Meant to be, can’t you see? We’re picture perfect”

Clark watched as you chewed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly as you glanced over the notes in your binder, written in your vibrantly feminine script, large and looping letters forming your thoughts on the page, written in your favourite pink gel pen, as you always did. He couldn’t help but smirk at how even your notes looked like they were transcribed by Barbie herself, but as silly as the thought of media law scrawled out in pink glittering ink in your flourished handwriting was, he loved that about you. He loved that your bubblingly bright personality had its way of working itself into every aspect of your life, including your studying methods. 

His piercing Kryptonian blue eyes continued to stare over at you, fixated on the way your hand gracefully glided across the page as you wrote, your fingers curled just so around your pen. He was fascinated by the way you could make even the most simple of tasks, like holding a pen, appear elegant. He knew he had it bad for you, he had for as long as he could remember, since you met. His friends would often tease him about diving in head first when he fell in love, and he tried to work on it in an effort to protect himself from getting hurt, but with you, he knew it was useless. He may not have had many weaknesses, but you were one of the few things that could stop him dead in his tracks. 

“Clark? You ok?” 

You had looked up from your notes to see Clark seemingly staring off into space at you, unable to break his focus from his thoughts. He chuckled nervously before pointing at his open text book on the table and nodding his head. 

“Yeah, I’m fine!” He said, trying to sound confident and hide his embarrassment as she caught him staring.

You tossed your textbook closed and shoved it across the table in front of you with a tired laugh. Straightening your ponytail, you let out an exasperated sigh before rubbing your hand inbetween your thumb and index finger.

“I’m starving, and my hand is cramped up, ready to go grab something to eat? I think if I have to read anymore of this I might implode,” you laughed, shaking your head as you stood up from your seat.

“Yeah, yeah I could go for something to eat. Pizza?” Clark laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as he followed behind you. 

He tried to keep his gaze upwards, focusing on anything but your backside as you walked in front of him out of the library. He had to congratulate himself on his willpower - resisting the urge for his eyes to drift downwards, tracing the shape of your curves as you walked. He caught up beside you, chuckling as he pretended to jog up beside you. If anything, it was harder work to pretend he couldn’t keep up with your strides than it was to actually jog, he could run from Kansas to California in a matter of seconds. In fact, he’d often thought about doing just that. He’d worked so hard to keep his secret from everyone, including you, as much as he hated hiding things from you. He loved you, and he trusted you, but he was terrified of how you’d respond. Would you be afraid of him? Would you stop speaking to him? Would you think he was crazy and tell everyone he’d gone insane? The more he’d thought about telling you, the more he realized he’d rather continue the facade he’d created than have any chance of losing you. Having you in his life and not knowing the truth about him was better than telling you and not having you there at all. 

“Clark, are you sure you’re ok? You keep spacing out on me.” 

Your laughter rang out through Clark’s ears - he could easily list it in his top favorite sounds, second only to the way his name sound when it fell from your lips, making it sound like an answered prayer every time you said it. Clark had it bad for you, and he knew that if he continued to hold it in, it’d end up forcing you away, but he’d been through this before with friends, and it rarely ended in his favor. The last thing he wanted was to push you away, either due to him revealing his true feelings, revealing his secret or by continuing to ignore how he felt for you. His own happiness aside, he knew ignoring his long-standing feelings towards you was the easiest solution. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair for a moment and chuckled awkwardly, his piercingly bright blue eyes glancing over at you as he spoke.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just thinking,” He said, trying his best to be reassuring but he couldn’t help but think he was failing miserably at it. 

“Oh, that’s what that smell is?” You teased, giving Clark a playful shove of the shoulder as you spoke. 

Clark rolled his eyes and gave you one of his infamous smirks, the kind that had most girls you knew weak in the knees. Clark had often been told he had a nice smile, but he was also oblivious when women found him attractive. Half of the time he had no idea when someone was flirting with him, and the other half of the time, he didn’t know how to respond to or reciprocate the flirting. The best he could do was flash a sweet, charming smile someone’s way and be his usual kind-hearted self, which was how he liked it best. He hated the idea of having to work for someone’s attention. With you, however, he found himself wanting to try. He wanted to flirt with you, he just had no idea where to begin.

He held the door to the pizza place on campus open for you, giving you another one of his warm, heart-melting smiles as he gestured for you to enter first with the motion of one of his long, muscular arms, the sleeve of his navy blue sweater shifting up on his wrist slightly as he moved, the arms just a little short for his frame. At six-foot-four and the majority of his height in his legs, Clark’s clothes were often just that half inch too short, often masked by pushing his sleeves up or by the shoes he wore. 

Little did Clark know, while he was busy admiring your every feature, you were doing the same to him - the way his blue eyes would light up and shine when he smiled was enough to make you swoon. The way he always acted like a total gentleman around you, holding doors, pulling out your chair, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, it was enough to make your heart flutter and race each time. The way he’d talk about his mom’s homemade pies back on his family farm in Smallville, the way he’d sing her praises and humbly brag about how her baking was famous across their little town. He’d always jokingly offer to bring you a slice the next time he went home to visit her, teasing you that despite the fact it wouldn’t be at its freshest, it’d still be the best slice of pie you’d ever eaten. You loved all these things about him, as well as the way he cared for everyone - he was always doing whatever he could to be a good person, which was a rarity a lot of the time on campus at Metropolis University, but you treasured his difference from the other men on campus. 

To anyone else who saw the two of you sitting together in the pizza parlour that day, they would have sworn you were on a date - the longing, loving stares at each other, exchanged stolen glances and sweet smiles, blushing red cheeks and nervous laughter - all the signs of a budding romance sparking between two young lovers. To the two of you though, it was one-sided, guarded feelings - scared to make the first move, scared to let feelings become known, anxious about how the other might respond, worried about whether or not your feelings might be showing through too much to the other party. You and Clark occasionally got comments about how sweet of a couple the two of you made from passersby, usually elderly women who’d say it as they passed through, commenting how it reminded them of how they were years ago when they first met their husbands, giving you a wink about how Clark was a keeper, or telling Clark to continue being the gentleman he is. The comments were always met with blushing cheeks from both of you, an awkward chuckle and thank you from Clark and a polite smile from you, but unbeknownst to the both of you, you and Clark both secretly felt your hearts flutter in agreeance to the compliment, hoping the other would agree too. 

Clark finished his pizza, pushing his plate away from his body on the table slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh as he reached for his glass of soda, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. He peered over the glass at you, stealing a glance as you blushed to yourself, biting your bottom lip for a second, appearing deep in thought as you sat across from him. Clark wrestled with whether or not he should finally bite the bullet and tell you how he felt. After a few moments of his own deep concentration, he decided tonight was as good a night as ever to finally talk to you about his feelings and find out where he stood with you. He set his glass down, clearly appearing uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. You tried not to notice his discomfort as you finished eating, and the two of you left to head back to the dorm building in silence. When you reached the front steps of the building, having had enough of the piercing silence and avoiding eye contact that had taken place the whole walk home. 

“Listen, I need to talk to you,” Clark said as he shifted the weight of his backpack on his shoulder awkwardly, looking around at the sky, trying to focus his eyesight on anything but your face as he spoke in an effort to avoid the awkwardness that he felt would inevitably come with what he was about to confess to you. 

“About what?” You raised an eyebrow as you took in a sharp inhale of air, holding your breath as you hoped he wouldn’t be saying how he met someone or how he thought the two of you could use some space.

“I think you and I should…discuss our relationship, going forward,” Clark shook his head as he chuckled awkwardly and held his hands up for a moment in surrender, “That sounded better in my head, let me try again?”

“I really like you,” Clark finally sighed with a nod of his head, “I’m not good at this, I know I never say the right things, and I know everyone tells me I’m blind to stuff like this, but I really like you. All of you. Everything there is to love about you.”

Clark looked at your bewildered expression, unsure of what to say, but fearing in that moment that he’d just fucked up the only thing he knew he wanted to cling to in life, the one thing that helped him retain some sense of normalcy, some sense of humanity in life while he was living away from Smallville. After a moment of awkward silence had passed, a strained, awkward sounding laugh fell from his lips, almost out of desperation to fill the void that was lingering between you both now.

“I like you too. All of you. And, I know you’re…different, Clark, I don’t know what it is, or how to explain it, but I know you’re not like most people. And I don’t care. I like you anyways,” You finally said, nodding your head in confirmation of your words as you spoke.

Clark breathed out a heavy sigh and laughed, shaking his head, his thick, dark hair tousling slightly as he did so. His deep blue eyes looked at you again, sparkling and glistening as they always did when he smiled. He put a hand on your cheek gently, leaning in to give you a tender kiss. He’d kissed you on the cheek before in a friendly, affectionate kind of way, but this, this was different. This was a soft, tender kiss, full of passion and love for you, as if you were the only woman in the world. In a way, in Clark’s mind, you were, at least in this moment.  “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say that, you know,” Clark murmured as he pulled away from your lips, smiling softly as he rested his forehead on yours, “As for the different thing…we’ll get to that.”

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