#just people saying 'oh i had this thought' and 'oh i like this'
:･ﾟ➴ 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭: 𝐈𝐈
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Chris Evans x short!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, SMUT - minors DNI, short!reader, size kink, dom!chris, praise kink, degradation, spitting, choking, belly bulging, daddy kink, spanking, anal (mentioned), breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭: 𝐈 continuation.
𝗪/𝗖 | 4.2K
𝗔/𝗡 | Ah! I can’t believe how much of you liked the first one, so thank you so much! Half of this is from the first part that I didn’t post. This is part two to 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭. Bold is dialogue. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!
˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
When you and Chris go grocery shopping, on the occasion they aren’t delivered, Chris treats it like a date and when you asked why, his answer was simple, “I’m gonna make up any excuse to go on a ‘date’ with you—get used to it, sweetheart.”
He puts you between him and the cart with his arms on either side of you. It’s hard to walk around like that, and you usually complain but a quick swat on your butt has you zipping your lips. “If you’re good, I’ll put you in the cart.”
Chris jumps at any opportunity to flaunt his height around you.
"Hey, baby, can you grab that cereal for me?"
You nod, turning around to find the box as it sat on the very top shelf, taunting you.
Not wanting to be spanked in the cereal aisle, you keep your mouth shut.
He chuckles at you jumping and climbing on shelves to get to the top shelf. “Oh, did you need help with that, sweetheart?” He teases and lifts you up to grab the box and proceeds to kiss your grumpy pout away.
He’s a dick about it sometimes too. Taking giant steps so you’d basically jog to keep up with him. Skipping steps on the stairs so he could watch you race to meet him at the top.
Or literally picking you up and carrying you when you’re not doing what he asks.
“Let me down, you neanderthal!” Your fists rain down on his back, yanking at his shirt when he laughs. You reach down and pinch his ass.
“Oh! Is that how you want to play?” Chris retaliates by flipping up your little skirt and slapping your ass, “You should just listen to me, baby. It’ll save you the trouble.” He gropes your flesh. Pulling at the band of your panties and letting go, loving at the short gasp you let out.
“No! And cover my ass before someone sees!”
He does fix your mini skirt, not before another slap. “No one walks this beach at this time.”
“This is one of the most popular beaches in the city.”
“Okay, but we haven’t seen anyone since we got here.” “Maybe next time when I say we should leave to meet our reservation—you should listen instead of taking a nap.”
You groan, sagging limp over his shoulder. With each step, your body sways like dead weight.
“But, I’m tired.” You spent the whole day travelling the city with Chris for your weekly date night, except Chris chose to start early in the morning and make it a date day/night.
Since Dodger was being watched by some friends, you and Chris had the house to yourself. You thought it would’ve been nice to relax and have breakfast in bed without a cute dog puppy begging for a bite, but no, Chris woke you up in the early hours to take a trip to the farmers market.
“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t walking then.” He pats your bum comfortingly, “Recharge some of that energy. Not that you’ll need it when I annihilate you at the arcade tonight.”
You fumble with your response, huffing in frustration. “You suck!” You hear other voices and look up to see a group of teenagers on the pier. “Chris, people are staring.”
“Huh?” “Oh, don’t mind them.”
“You look suspicious with a girl over your shoulder at the beach at night.”
“You’re right.” He turns to them, waving with a grin, “she’s okay—just tired!”
When they said they saw the former Captain America carrying his girlfriend over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, without video or pictures, everyone believed them anyway. Because, honestly, it just seemed like something Chris would do.
He's lucky he's the love of your life.
When he’s working out—he’ll casually mention bench pressing you. And somehow, that leads to your panties on the floor and you bent over the stationary bike with Chris plowing you from behind.
His bicep is around your neck, keeping you from falling forward from the brutal strength behind his thrusts. Your eyes roll back, whines slipping from your lips. His big cock stretching you wide, his heavy balls colliding with your button.
“You’re doing so good, my best girl. Letting daddy fuck your little pussy sore.” He flexes, his bulging muscles restricting your air flow. "Such a good girl for daddy's cock, huh?"
Chris’ breath fans across your heated cheek, his grunts vibrating his chest. You sink closer him, sending his shaft deeper, the thick head hitting your cervix. Choking out a cry, your nails dig into his arm.
You gasp, trying to speak. "P-Please—” Chris loosens his arm, scraping his beard on your jaw. God, you hope he leaves marks. Your mind is so foggy, you barely register him bringing your hand to where you're connected.
You're fucking soaked, dripping down your thigh. Your panties weren’t any better, having been damp the moment you heard his grunts and found him lifting weights.
"What was that, dumb baby?" His thrusts slow down, letting you feel every vein before rutting into you. He curses at the wet noises coming from your pussy. "Can't hear you over your little drenched cunt, gonna have to speak louder than that."
"I love you, daddy." You twist to look at him, begging him with the cutest pout. "Kiss me, p-pretty please."
Chris smirks, "I love you too, baby." He licks into your mouth, kissing you passionately. His arm around your neck falls to cup your tummy. The dull bulge appears with every thrust. “Look how deep I am, darlin’, feel me in your tummy, huh?” He leans close, sucking and nibbling on your shoulder, “Makes me wanna fill you up, get you full of my baby. You want that?”
“Yes, yes, daddy.” You look down, drooling at the bump of his cock protruding from inside you. Chris grinds thoroughly, almost coming to a complete halt. “Please fuck me, please!”
"Yeah? What are you gonna do for daddy, then?"
You grip the rails of the bike, trying to fuck yourself on his hard length. But you lack the strength and power, Chris chuckles darkly at you.
“Are you gonna give me a baby, sweet girl? Let daddy get you plump with a baby—fill your messy pussy until you’re leaking?”
He pulls back and hammers into you, forcing noises from your throat, your ass slapping against his hips in a quick rhythm. He gets so deep at this angle—pummelling into your sopping pussy with vigour.
"Rub your little cunt for daddy, you slut."
He presses your fingers on your pearl, hard and thick body flush against your back. You rub yourself with fervour, the wetness soaking your fingers. Combined with his dick pressing all up in your guts, you spasm immediately. Clenching around him tight, choking his throbbing length and begging for his cum. Legs weak, body tingling and numb as you fall forward with a cry.
"That's it, cream all over my cock." He bites onto your shoulder, holding his high back. He’ll consider giving you a break—only when you’re dripping down your legs and pleading.
Then he flips you around, kissing you filthily before wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up. Your feet flail, eyes shooting open when he spits on your breasts.
He spreads your thighs, your knees hooked over his strong arms, then forces your still convulsing cunt on his dick.
Chris holds you up like that. Forcing your weepy heat on his shaft, your loud and squeaky moans make him harder. His grip tightens, obscene squelching filling the air, he's unable to look away from your blissed-out face. Mouth dropped wide and eyes rolled back, you can barely keep them open.
Your legs swinging by his sides, toes curled tight. Pussy aching for and from his size. Shuddering when you feel spit land on your cunt, Chris' cock fucking it into you. Getting you even more wet if possible.
Mind flying high at how he can hold you up, manhandle you up and down his girth. Guttural groans and growls coming from deep in his throat. He’s so much bigger than you, it’s almost scary. Chris is determined to use your creamy hole, not caring about how sensitive you are.
Chris holds you up with one arm, pulling you close until your tits are pressed against his tattooed chest. Your poor clit rutting against his neatly trimmed pubic hair. Sweaty skin meets as he opens your mouth wider.
"Stick your tongue out. That’s it." "Daddy's little cock drunk baby, huh? Cream all over me, sweetie—show me how much you want daddy's cum. Love it when I use you, daddy isn’t stopping until your cunt is crying, little girl."
His voice is so deep and gravelly, it sets you ablaze, you tense and release again. Eyes fluttering as you convulse around his heavy shaft.
He softly shushes your cries, kissing all over your hot cheeks and sucking your tongue into his mouth. When he's like this, his kisses are heavenly and sinful at the same time. Teeth clashing, tongue massaging yours, swallowing your whimpers.
"God, look at that little fuckhole." Chris cranes his neck, your cream coating his entire length. Tiny pussy gaping around his size, slick and tender, a prize. He wants to suck your swollen clit into his mouth, lick around your messy folds, taste your mixed juices and give you beard burn on your inner thighs.
And Chris, never one to hold back, does exactly that.
"Soak my face, baby." He demands against your puffy folds, sucking your clit between his lips before pulling off with an obscene pop. He laps at your heat, groaning deeply. "Then maybe, I'll fill you with my cum."
You can't even mourn your yoga mat under you. It’s destroyed from your nails and wetness dripping down your slit.
Chris thrusts his tongue into your centre, moaning against you, eating you like a starved man. His sounds rumbling against you. He drinks you down, digging his face deeper between your thighs, a lovely irritation building from his facial hair.
"Can't believe this tight hole takes my cock. Best pussy I've ever had, darlin'." "You're made for me, made to take daddy’s cock like a good girl.”
He pulls away, tugging your nub between his lips and sitting back on his knees. Your wetness glistening in his beard. He collects your arousal with his rough fingers before gripping himself. Hissing at the contact, abs flexing. "Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby."
You can't. Shaking your head, hands clenched in fists to your chest. Lying limp, shuddering breaths shaking your chest.
Chris tsks. " I guess I have to do everything myself." "Just a dumb little baby when you’re spread out like this—don't worry, I'll take care of you."
And by take care, he means fucking you against the wall until you collapse against his chest in exhaustion.
It wasn’t surprising to know that Chris was (graciously) gifted between the legs. When you first saw him naked, you remember being a little terrified. Your hand couldn't wrap around the girth and the length had you doubting if you could even take him.
When you had sex the first time, you could only take him halfway before you came. You were teetering on the edge since he made you sit on his face.
Chris suggested taking it slow next time, and opened you up with four fingers before filling you to the hilt.
Now, you've become addicted to the burn of when he breaches—greedily taking everything he has to offer.
Since he's gotten your cunt accustomed to his size, his mind can't help but drift to your little puckered hole.
Chris leans back, one hand in the middle of your back as he rails you over the arm of the couch. Your toes barely brush the floor as he fucks the sweetest noises from you.
He admires your bouncing backside, squeezing the flesh harshly. Bringing his hand back to spank you, repeating it again and again.
You’re so submissive for him. So little, he feels almost bad to be pounding you so roughly. But you loved it. His cock glistening every time he pulls out.
His eyes are glued to the little rosebud above your swollen petals.
“Fuck—baby, when are you gonna let daddy fuck your ass?” “I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?”
Your breath hitches. The closest you've gotten to that was when Chris would lightly rub his thumb over it, or when his tongue lapped at your juices that dribbled down.
Mind filling with images of his fat girth opening you wide, you could almost taste the pain.
Chris brings you against his body before picking you up. Still throbbing between your walls, he lays you on the couch, the movie long forgotten on the television. Flipping you over onto your back, big palms running over your heated skin. He pinches your hardened nipples, tugging. Moaning, your back arches off the cushions.
He sticks his fingers between your lips until you’re slack jawed. Spitting into your mouth, “swallow, baby.” Then, he traces down your neck with his slick fingers.
“Don’t you want daddy’s cock in your ass, sweetie?” His digits tailing down your tummy to your soaking pussy, giving your clit a slap then doing the same to your ass. “Or are you gonna make me beg?” He pulls out, cock colliding with his lower stomach with a wet smack. He folds your legs to your chest and circles your rim.
You shake your head quickly, blubbering, “no, no, you can b-but not now.”
“I can do what?”
You squirm as he collects your arousal before spreading it around your much tighter, smaller hole. “You can fuck my ass, daddy.”
Chris abruptly shoves two fingers into your cunt, scissoring them. His dark gaze locked on your wide eyes as you narrowly register his next words.
“Hm, isn't your pussy gonna feel neglected? We don’t want that, baby.” “Hungry little cunt wants my cock too.”
“Oh! Yes, please, please.” You moan, head thrown back. “Want you in all my holes, use me, daddy. Fill me up.”
“Yeah? My little girl wants to be stuffed to the brim?” His fingers are pulled away.
The bulbous head of his dick rubs against your button before he presses into you—so slowly that you reach up and pull him down by his neck. Your nails pierce into the skin leaving small crescents in its wake.
“So fucking good,” he grunts lowly, he builds a pace, going deeper and harder with every roll of his hips. He can’t get enough of your tightness on his throbbing shaft. “Squeeze my cock, sweet girl,” “Milk me, wanna get you knocked up.” “Tiny pussy so good for me—after you’re full of my baby, daddy’s gonna cum in all your little holes. You want that? Daddy dripping all over you.”
Chris knows exactly how to ruin you.
He takes your nipples into his mouth, biting and sucking until you whimper. He moves you however he pleases, hips unrelentless as he marvels at his handy work. Weepy cunt stretching to the max, he just knows it burns. Bruises and hickies decorating your skin like his very own canvas. He's claimed your mind, your body, he just needs to do the same to your insides.
You’re brainless underneath him. So small, whining, head bobbing with each thrust—a glorious Angel for him to devour. His glorious cock drunk Angel.
You look up at him with unfocused eyes. Tears brimming in your waterline, “you’re too big, daddy, you’re too deep!”
Chris chuckles mockingly. Thrusting harder. “Am I? Sweetie, I think you’re just so little that it feels that way.”
“Daddy, daddy,” you mewl.
“Don’t you love it when daddy stretches your little pussy? Can feel you clenching, baby, you gonna give daddy that cream?”
He couldn’t be more right. You loved when he took you like this, when he manhandled you on his fat girth, fucking every thought from your head.
“I'm gonna—ah—don’t stop.”
He spits lewdly on your stomach, smearing it into your skin. Paying special attention to his cock protruding from inside you. “Where are your manners?” “Is daddy’s cock is makin’ you so stupid you forget how to ask nicely? Dumb little girl, just good for taking cock, huh?”
That has you clenching around him, your feet braced against his chest, thighs shut tight. Little ah’s are all you can manage.
Chris grips the back of your thighs and pushes down, straining your muscles all while using the leverage to pound you deeper into the couch. The sound of skin slapping intensifies and your hands scramble, head so far gone that you don’t know what to hold on to.
He’s so big above you. Tall and wide, heavy, hairy, broad shouldered, and tattooed. His chain dangling from around his neck. You can’t even function, his cock hitting so deep that you try to get away but he just pulls you back down. Trapping you underneath him.
“Take my cock, don’t run from me.” He moves you on his dick, groaning at the feeling of your constricting walls.
“I'm stretching your tight pussy so good you’re trying to get away, huh? Is that any way to thank me?” “And look at that little fuckhole, you’re makin’ a mess. Such a stupid baby."
"Daddy—" You squeak when he slaps your thigh.
"Unless you're gonna apologize for ruining the couch, then don't speak."
His pace is merciless, his thickness spearing into your deepest parts. You're a mess of strangled moans as your hands land on your mouth, fingers between your teeth. Your orgasm easily builds into another.
He growls, rutting into you, his balls pressed to your ass, the pubic hair at the base of his cock sending tingles through your body. You twitch, keening loudly.
“Fuck, baby, take daddy’s cum,” He breathed out, abs and biceps tensing under his flushed skin. “You gonna milk me dry?”
Your garbled whines are cut off as he tears your fingers from your mouth. Bringing it to his own mouth then down to your swollen folds. “Touch yourself, sweetie.”
Low praises come from his lips, “that’s it. Play with your messy pussy. Make yourself come.” “Those little fingers aren’t as good as mine, huh?” “You miss daddy’s fingers when I’m away? Just like you miss my cock in your tiny cunt?”
You writhe, your climax hitting so suddenly that Chris does too. Thrusts stuttering as he curls over you, moaning, chest heaving. He covers you from head to toe, gripping your shoulders to keep you pinned on his cock as it bursts inside your pulsating walls, spilling, filling you to the brim. He's so warm and thick inside you. You never want him to leave.
“Look at us.” He commands, spreading you wide.
You follow his order and choke on air. You’re instantly entranced—his flushed cock is white with your cum that formed a ring around his base. Your poor cunt taking his girth as he slowly grinds into you, fucking his cum deeper inside you.
Just imagining you all pregnant and full of his baby makes him harden again. You gasp at the feeling of him thickening inside you.
Chris collects salvia in his mouth, checking if you’re being a good girl and doing what he said before spitting on your cunt. And it lands with his cum that seeped out.
"It’s a good thing," he says about picking you up and taking you wherever he wants. Physically carrying you somewhere if you’re being bratty or stubborn and also when you're fooling around.
His height and strength came in handy all the time.
Building furniture, or rearranging different rooms because you both decided it needed a change. He was surprisingly great at kneading dough whenever he'd help you bake.
Chris especially took great pride in winning those strength games at carnivals too.
"I'm going to win you that big bear." He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "I've seen you eyeing it all night."
You tilt your head, licking the cotton candy from your fingers. "I was actually staring at the bunny."
Chris sighs, turning to see the much smaller pink bunny hanging from the stand. "You deserve something big enough to keep you company for when I'm gone."
"Nothing is as big as you, hunk."
He chuckles, paying the employee before coyly rolling up his sleeves. The fabric of the white henley clinging to every delicious curve of his body. You regret not letting him finger you in the photo booth. In your defence, there was nothing but a flimsy curtain separating you and the innocent bystanders.
He lifts the oversized hammer in his hands with ease. "What do I have to get for the giant pink bunny?" He asks the younger man.
"You have to ring the bell at the top."
Chris looks over his shoulder at you, a cocky smirk telling you, 'I got this.' "Could do that in my sleep, bud."
The photos that circulated the Internet the next morning are some of your favourites. Chris lugging around a huge pink bunny with you tucked into his side, still wearing his jacket. He looks every bit of the smug winner he was. There were clear shots of you sitting on his lap, making out and feeding him cotton candy (and also pushing him away when he suckled on your fingers). Those have their special framed spots at home.
Aside from being your one-way ticket to carnival prizes, his stature was also perfect for dirty quickies.
Tonight, you were accompanying him to someone’s album release party. It was an artist you love so you dressed up all nice, did your makeup and sprayed on some perfume. Which happened to be his favourite of yours.
Your dress was on the shorter side, and Chris keeps a hand on you at all times. Whether it was on your thigh at the booth, on your waist when you were standing—and of course, when he gets some liquor in him he goes a little careless and unabashedly gropes your ass in the middle of the club. (Those were quick to go viral, Chris Evans is definitely an ass man! See Video: Actor can’t keep hands off girlfriend!)
He rarely got jealous and trusted you immensely but watching you gush and praise your favourite musician was getting to him. Your face lighting up, bottom lip between your teeth and worst of all, you were giving the musician your starry eyes. Those eyes were reserved for Chris when he was knuckle deep, tongue deep or balls deep inside you.
So Chris waits for the musician to be (albeit, reluctantly) pulled away by their publicist before showing you how he feels.
Within five minutes your life got a million times better. You met your idol and then you were getting your brains fucked out pressed up against the wall. Your boyfriend’s arms hooked under your knees and his pants pulled down enough to get his cock out.
Chris works fast. A harsh tug in the direction of the washrooms, pushing you against the wall and hiking up your dress before pulling your panties to the side. Spitting into your slack jawed mouth and messily fingering you until you begged for relief.
After you came twice him with his fingers stuffed in your mouth to muffle your whines and he filled you up until it was dripping out of you, he set you down carefully. Fixing your panties, and kissing you softly while he rubbed the fabric between your folds until they were ruined from your combined cum.
“I love you.” Chris mutters against your neck, “I just want to eat you up all the time.”
“Chris, I can barely stand right now.”
He pulls away laughing, blue eyes lively with that post-sex glow. “I think I prefer it when you can’t stand at all. I know you do too.”
“Then, take me home.”
The whole night you’ve wanted to rip the tight white button-up from his body, it was cruel how thin it was. All his tattoos visible, the one on his collarbone peeking out. You craved for him to manhandle you and fold you however he wanted—which would all be easier in bed, in the privacy of your home.
“Hm, I don’t know...” Chris brings his fingers to your mouth, dipping them in and giving you a taste of your mixed juices. He does it again, smearing it on your lips. “Perhaps if you can be in the car in two minutes, l will consider waiting before I get my mouth on your cunt. But that counter looks pretty sturdy, yeah?” He nods towards the washroom sink in front of the mirror.
You almost fling yourself over the counter but you know you can't. Instead, you quickly waddle to the door. “I have to say bye!” You call over your shoulder, rushing to find the musician before Chris takes you again.
If you actually looked in that mirror, you would’ve seen the tiniest bit of cum on the corner of your mouth. A sick part of Chris hoped that your idol noticed it, just like how he noticed them checking you out while you praised their talent.
When he sees you by the car, he makes sure to kiss you until he sucks all the evidence from your lips. You’d be pissed if you found out, but then again, you were never mad at him for too long. You loved him too much.
𝗜𝗻 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗣𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁: 𝗜𝗜 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀 | @michellangdonismybf @n3ssm0nique @sparksforkoo @knifevsstageprop
𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 𝗘𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘀 & 𝗖𝗼. 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀 | @justreadingficsdontmindme @gitasor @adoringb
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“don’t kiss me, my lips are chapped”
THANK YOU FOR 2K ON TUMBLR DOT COM 😎💃
INCLUDES: several characters.
FANDOM/S: 僕のヘロアカデミア. // boku no hero academia [bnha]
your name is shortened to y/n, gender neutral reader, chapped lips
ANYTHING TO BE CAUTIOUS OF?: chapped lips 😔 that is the warning.
SIDE NOTE: thank you all for 2,000 followers— like what the heck? that’s so many people 🤭😟 this is my thanks, basically (also let’s not talk about me disappearing for 30+ days 😭 ik it’s a lot but schools been busy 😾)
TODOROKI SHŌTO ||
“don’t kiss me, my lips are chapped.”
super, super confused.
i mean.. dude doesn’t have plump, juicy, soft and hydrated lips all the time (you can all blame his quirk for that) so, if he cared about your dehydrated lips, that’d be highly hypocritical of him; no kidding.
it was a tough one, trying to get to the kissing stage with lover boy, but once you guys overcame the worries he had, he couldn’t stop. not now, not ever. can’t go through his day without at least two kisses from you. if shōto could, he’d be kissing you 24/7. so, when you stopped him from pulling your lips onto his, he was confused; head tilted in confusion like a little puppy, lip carved into a frown and everything. the confusion only increased when the reason was because your lips were chapped, and also because you “didn’t want him to be kissing my cracked, desert lips.” newflash! he. doesn’t. care. probably will never care too. after the difficulties of getting to this stage, he’ll eliminate any reasonable obstacles.
“why does it matter? i don’t care about that stuff. just give me my kiss.”
it is advised to give what the man demands for
|| MIDORIYA IZUKU
“izuku, you can’t kiss me right now”
he looks around to check for any valid reason for your rejection. he sees no bystanders. meaning, the both of you are in the clear. so, why would you reject his offer for a kiss?
“why?” he asks. izuku tries to conceal the sadness in his round, aspiring green eyes, and in his voice. he sounds like a kicked puppy, and he definitely looks like one too. that’s all swiped away when you tell him that your “lips are chapped.” big sigh of relief on his end. “oh,” that lifts some tension off his shoulders, if you didn’t want to kiss him for any other reason, he would’ve respected that, but.. your lips are just chapped. so, he can’t find himself from really caring. the issue has an easy fix to it (not that it desperately needed one). and either way, i can’t really say fully with my chest that his lips are moisturized every hour of the day.
grabbing a hold of your wrist, he pulls you in, “y/n, please?” he pleads with the best puppy dog eyes he has to offer
and it works, you give in; despite your worries. he doesn’t seem to be affected by your chapped lips though.
BAKUGŌ KATSUKI ||
“i’m sorry ‘tsuki, but not now. not the best conditions to do so.”
but for real, when is he actually not annoyed? anyway, at first katsuki thought he was the problem. he’s sweaty at nature, so he should at least be understanding if you don’t want to be so close in distance with him. but, then you told him that he wasn’t the problem, and it’s your lips that’s the issue
so now he’s annoyed, but a little relieved to know that he’s not pressuring you to kiss him. thinks you’re being dramatic about these so called conditions. like, what is this? a contract agreement? “so what?” he clicks his tongue, looking around to see if there’s anyone to see (not that people are a problem anyway. he’s just knows the possibility of you being cautious.) so, he tries to assure you “it’s nothing i can’t handle. you’re making a big deal out of this.” the blond knows he’s unsuccessful at that, when he sees you averting your gaze; a nervous tick. he’s annoyed that you think that this is an issue for him, but he has his solutions. asks you to open your mouth, and when you do so, he coats his finger in your spit 😦 then proceeds to smear it all over your lips.
“there. all better. now give me what you fuckin’ owe.”
you told him that was a little disgusting, bashfully remarking that he could’ve just asked you to wet your lips, but he was going to kiss you anyway 🤷 he has a point.
|| SHINSŌ HITOSHI
“you can’t, and it’s for your own good ‘toshi.”
getting past the confusion, i think hitoshi would see this happening, and he’d be unintentionallu prepared for it. looks at people’s mouths a lot when he needs to use his quirk. except, his does that because it’s necessary and not because he wants to (like how he is with you.)
with that being said, he has probably seen a lot of chapped lips. though, he never comments on it, because his lips aren’t the smoothest things out there either. due to his lack of attention regarding lip care, you kindly decided to leave your chapstick in his posession (he ended up never returning it. the opportunity never came up.). hitoshi’s just so glad he kept it so closely though, because the situation was in his favor, when you rejected him of a kiss, all thanks to your chapped lips. he honestly would’ve laughed from the start, if this initial rejection didn’t make his heart drop down to his ass. hitoshi shrugs off the last percentages of his panic, lips tugging into a very recognizable grin, “‘s not a big deal. i’m no better, but i have the solution.” he says, whipping out your lipbalm from his pocket. popping off the cap
after (closely) applying the balm to your lips, he pulls you even closer. “there. all done. you’re gonna give me what is due, right?”
your heart practically swooned, and from that point on, chapped lips were never an issue.
KIRISHIMA EIJIRŌ ||
“nope, nope. you’ll thank me later.”
would reassure you
honestly, all of them would reassure you, but eijirō does it the most, y’know? anyways, do insecurities even exist anymore, if you’re dating eijirō kirishima? 🤔
though he’d be a little sad at your rejection, he’d hide it behind a gentle smile. ever since his early teens, his irrational fear was always accidentally activating his quirk while he was giving the love of his life a kiss. so, eijirō has his own fair share of worries. which explains his ability in being very understanding, when you tell him that you didn’t want to give him a kiss, due to your cracked, dehydrated lips. he doesn’t see an issue with it, but eijirō wouldn’t disregard your worries at all. if anything, he’d reveal his own insecurities, which shows some relatability. “i’m no better!” he says with a smile that could stop hearts, “if yours are chapped, then what are exactly mine called?” your boyfriend makes you feel comfortable, by revealing his long time insecurities. he’d even tell you about a silly nightmare he has when he was 12, when he kissed his celebrity crush, and grew rocks for lips 🕴
his heart melts upon hearing laughter. though it would be quite embarrassing, if he shared this rather ridiculous nightmare to his peers, it’s all worth it, when you allow him to kiss you. “that’s more like it! there’s no need to feel worried. i also have chapped lips!”
you thank him for his understanding later, but he insists that it’s only second nature, as your boyfriend.
|| KAMINARI DENKI
“denki, denki! i will literally break up, if you kiss me right now.”
lowkey highkey desperate
it sounds kind of bad, but it’s true anyway, denki’s always desperate to kiss you, no matter how down bad he sounds.
he does not, and will never want to break up with you. he raises his hands, showing he has no ill intent, and steps back “w-what’s this all about?” he pouts, hands sliding up and down your shoulders. though he’s kind of sad that you’ve said no to his kiss in that way, he’s more desperate to know the reason behind your reluctance and rejection. he’s relieved when you say the breaking up part was simply an exaggeration, but he’s left even more confused when you say it’s because of your chapped lips (because his lips aren’t the softest either) but you never seemed to care, so why should he? denki’s exaggerated reaction to that seemed to be enough to distract you of your worries, and he’s sincerely glad that he got you to laugh, but he’s really desperate. (he does not gaf)
he pulls you in, tickling you to distract you of your concerns. he’s smiling like a fool as he prepares for a kiss “will you please please please give me a kiss? i honestly do not care about your “desert-y” lips.”
you realize how truly desperate your boyfriend is for a kiss. so with that, you give into denki’s desires of one, laughter bubbling from your lips when he sighs in relief.
TOGATA MIRIO ||
“mirio- please, can you- can you not do that?”
he finds it endearing, to be honest. mirio would still respect your wishes, if you didn’t want to kiss him (it’d be the absolute bare minimum anyway), but if it’s for that reason? he finds it cute.
“oh? why?” he says, sounding as sad as he could. but, his expression would immediately contradict himself. his amusement only grows when you stumble to gather, and justify your reasons. saying that your lips aren’t in the most “desirable” state, and that he’d “sincerely hate the feeling” as if it was possible to hate being around you in the first place. mirio laughs at these reasons, and the fact that you keep on pressing this on him, as if it were factual. you honestly think he’d just poking fun at you, for caring about this, and for even warning him about kissing you while your lips are chapped, but he’s not. he’s simply amused. he was at first, just teasing you, but now he’s just amused because of this revelation.
“i’m so lucky that you care about my well being so much,” he shows off that signature smile of his, “but, you being ‘undesirable’ is just not possible.”
though yes, he’s amused. but, he said that part so seriously ??? to the point that resisting him is just impossible.
|| AIZAWA SHŌTA
“this- this is going to be hard to explain. but, you just can’t”
doesn’t even need to ask why you said no, because he somewhat already knows why. is it his s/o hunch? yes.
like every other person in this post, he’d respect your wishes if you didn’t want one. that is, if your reason was valid, and “having chapped lips” just doesn’t sound valid to him, at all. “if you were going to scare me shitless for three seconds, at least make the reason valid” is what he thinks about the matter. (not that your insecurities aren’t valid but.. he sees no issue.) shouta’s stares at you, like he’s trying to say “really? is that all? is that why you’re trying to reject me of a kiss i’m officially entitled to?” and you recognise that look he’s giving you. shouta’s simply exhausted, but not at you, or your antics, but, because you’re literally rejecting him of the things that make him energised (also known as, your kisses.) on top of that, he’s a pro hero, thirty one, and also happens to be the unofficial dad of 22 kids. so, chapped lips are nothing on him. (plus, his lips aren’t always moisturised. so even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t say he’s any better.)
“you know, that’s really not a concern of mine.” he says, running his hand through his jet black hair, “you don’t complain about my scruff. so, chapped lips? they’re really nothing, c’mon now.”
but, if you were really insecure about your chapped lips, he would do everything in his power (despite his fatigue) to reassure you. and, his nonchalance surely did the trick.
zukuist 2021 ™️, bnha|mha ; 僕のヘロアカダミアン belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not repost and/or steal ❕
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Kiss #19 - One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.
For @jactingjoices 1k followers celebration, prompt: “I told you so”
50 types of kisses collection. Also posted on ao3.
"Did you know strawberries are considered an aphrodisiac?" Cas asked, materializing next to Dean at the kitchen counter.
Dean swore under his breath, the box of opened strawberries clattering against the steel counter as the fruits rolled out in every direction. "Goddammit Cas. Where the hell did you come from?" Dean said, turning around sharply to face Cas.
Dean could've sworn he was alone in the kitchen just five seconds ago. How had Cas managed to sneak up on him like that?
"Sam said you were in here cooking. I thought I'd offer my assistance."
"By sneaking up on me? Yeah, that's helpful," Dean muttered, head spinning as Cas' mention of the ulterior motive of the fruit he'd been about to use bounced around in his head.
"What are you using the strawberries for?" Cas asked, hand reaching out to pick up the fruit that had rolled all the way to the other end of the counter. And dammit all to Hell, now Dean was extremely aware of Cas' hands; the way those long fingers wrapped around each individual strawberry, collecting them in his open palm one by one before turning back to Dean with his hand outstretched.
Oh, how Dean wanted to knock the strawberries right out of Cas' hand and bring those fingers up to his lips and-
Maybe strawberries really were an aphrodisiac.
"Hmm?" Dean startled, almost dropping the box of fruit for a second time. "Oh I- um, strawberry shortcake. Jack wanted to try one this morning but when I suggested getting one from the store he gave me that sad puppy-dog expression that I think he learned from Sam. So now I gotta try to bake one."
Cas nodded, stepping away from the kitchen counter to start shucking off his trenchcoat. Dean dropped the box of strawberries onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked, and oh God, Cas without his trenchcoat was almost sinful. Did the angel know that seeing him without the trenchcoat was almost like seeing Cas naked? Striped bare with his forearms exposed as he rolled up his sleeves.
Screw the strawberries. Dean was pretty sure his knees were about to give out and he was going to end up on the floor, too.
“Helping you make this cake. Isn’t it customary to wear an apron while baking?” Cas asked, motioning to the spare apron Dean had found at a thrift store a couple weeks ago.
Except Dean wasn’t paying attention to the apron. Not when his eyes were glued to Cas’ body.
Cas tilted his head, expression puzzled as he searched Dean’s expression. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked a moment later. “I can leave if you don’t want me to bake with-”
“No! No. Stay, Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head to clear the lingering thoughts as he bent down to pick up the box of strawberries. “You just surprised me, that was all.”
Cas smiled, plucking the strawberries from Dean’s hands and setting them safely on the counter. “I like surprising you.”
There was something so simple about that statement. The way Cas almost leaned into Dean’s space as he said it; earnest and honest.
And it should’ve been a sentimental moment.
If Dean’s head wasn’t still stuck on the first thing Cas had said when he’d appeared in the room.
“The um- what you said earlier. About the strawberries. Is that just when you eat them?” Dean asked, inching closer towards Cas.
Cas cocked his head, blinking a couple times in surprise at the turn of the conversation, but he seemed willing to entertain Dean’s curiosity. “Some people say it’s an aphrodisiac to eat them. Some people say just seeing them in the vicinity of someone you’re attracted to is enough to feel the effects.”
“Yeah, I’d believe that,” Dean muttered, eyes darting down to Cas’ lips and lingering.
“Dean.” There was something about the way Cas said his name. Soft and intrigued; reverent and breathy.
Dean could always blame the strawberries… right?
Leaning in, Dean darted his gaze up to Cas’ eyes, and then back down to the angel’s lips. Cas shuddered, closing the gap until they were millimeters apart; his hand settling on Dean’s hip.
Dean hesitated, lips ghosting against Cas’; giving Cas a chance to pull away. “Cas,” he murmured; quiet, desperate, yearning.
Cas pushed forward, catching Dean’s mouth with his own.
It felt like Heaven. Felt like sheer bliss.
Dean moved his mouth against Cas’, and Cas let out a gasp of pleasure.
Shifting his hands, Dean tugged at Cas’ suit jacket, pulling Cas closer, closer, closer. Their lips collided and melded together, kisses quickly morphing into something desperate and deep.
Dean licked across Cas’ lower lip, stuttering out a breath when Cas opened his mouth for him. And then their tongues were darting against each other; teasing hot brushes that had Dean feeling dizzy with desire.
And then Cas was pulling away, breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, and Dean felt like the world was spinning. But Cas’ hands tightened on Dean’s waist, moving to press firmly against his lower back. “Dean. Do you want to do this?” Cas asked.
Cas’ voice sounded even deeper than normal. As if just by kissing the angel had wrecked his vocal cords.
How could Cas even be asking a question like that? Had Dean not made it clear enough in the way he’d kissed Cas?
Oh, now that just wouldn’t do.
Forgoing words, Dean wrapped a hand around Cas’ tie and yanked him back in, chasing Cas’ mouth into a kiss even more passionate than the last one. Deep and slow, he slipped his tongue into Cas’ mouth and kissed him with every last ounce of yearning he felt. Everything felt slow and hazy, kisses merging from one to the next; pressed against the cool metal counter as Dean slowly memorized the feel of Cas’ mouth tangled with his own.
“Was that answer enough for you?” Dean asked against Cas’ lips, refusing to break the kiss as he kept their lips brushing against each other.
Cas hummed, stealing a couple quick chaste kisses before lingering on the next kiss. “I told you so. Strawberries are an aphrodisiac.”
“Shut up and kiss me again,” Dean said, tugging Cas against him until they were kissing again, laughing against each other’s mouths.
Talking of strawberries though, maybe Dean should sneak one of those into the kisses? Would Cas’ mouth taste even sweeter if they passed a strawberry back and forth between their lips?
Maybe strawberries really were an aphrodisiac. Or maybe it was the image of the strawberries in Cas’ hands. Oh yes. Dean’s own personal aphrodisiac.
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BUB BUB BUB I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU, snuggles with albedo and Kaeya (separate), like CUDDLES, SNUGGLES, FLUFFY ADORABLE MOMENTS THAT MAKE PEOPLE HAVE CAVITIES with a gender neutral reader pls :DD thank you💕
feat. Albedo, Kaeya, Scaramouche
♡ a/n: CUTE VERY CUTE, also I added scaramouche hehe
“I’m home” Albedo softly calls out the moment he opens the front door
he had just gotten back from his work truly exhausted from today’s events (there was an incident involving Timaeus)
Albedo immediately sets his bag down before instantly slumping onto the couch just as you came into the room after hearing his voice
you walked over to the couch, softly chuckling at the sight of your boyfriend
his eyes were closed, but the moment he heard your voice they flickered open
and in one quick motion, he pulls you down onto the couch with him, hugging you close
“long day?” you ask, wrapping your own arms around him in an attempt to snuggle even more into him
“very long. I couldn't wait to get back home to see you” he murmurs
as much as Albedo loved his work, he sought out comfort from you. the joy you brought to him was something even he couldn’t replicate with science
"alright, but since you got home, you really should eat something!” you say, preparing to get up to get some food for him
but Albedo pulls you back down, holding you tighter than before
“please, just let me recharge first. Just for a little bit” he says
and so the two of you lay there on the couch in each other’s arms
Albedo starts humming a quiet tune to himself, and hearing his gentle voice made your eyelids grow heavier and heavier
that ‘little recharge’ Albedo had wanted was extended into you two falling asleep, cuddling one another
and honestly, that was his plan all along
you expected to come home to an empty house, but to your surprise, Kaeya was home
“oh? I thought you were gonna go to Angel’s Share tonight?” you ask, shrugging off your coat
Kaeya, sitting on the couch, crosses his arms and pouts
“there’s no point in going if Diluc isn’t there. who else am I supposed to tease?” Kaeya sighs dramatically
you sit down next to your boyfriend, and he rests his head on your shoulder
“that sounds awful. You must have had such a rough day” you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully at the situation
“Why yes it was. Thank you for acknowledging my struggles babe” Kaeya says, stifling his own laughter
after a slight pause, he lifts his head up from your shoulder to adjust how the two of you were sitting
and when he was finished... well in this case the two of you were no longer sitting
instead you were laying on the couch, wrapped in his arms, and you could feel his face in the crook of your neck
"mmm even if Diluc was working tonight, nothing beats being with you Y/n” he says, his breath tickling your neck
“well, I’m glad to know that you prefer being around me over your own brother” you reply, causing Kaeya to let out a loud laugh
it was all true though, having you right next to him and in his arms was something that even all of the wine in Teyvat couldn’t amount to
"Just where do you think you’re going?” a voice stops you as your hand reaches out to open the front door
you turn your head slowly to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe of your shared bedroom, his arms crossed
Scaramouche had just woken up, and the moment he heard you shuffling about he sprung to his feet to catch you right before you left the house
“I’m just gonna run some errands right now!” you honestly tell him
“no you’re not. I know for a fact you stayed up late last night so you’re gonna go right back to bed” he says, but you ignored his words
“I’m just fine you know. Plus it’ll be really quick so- aH” before you could finish your sentence, Scaramouche grasped your hand and was dragging you back to bed
he got into bed and pulled you down next to him before using his arms to hold you close to him, draping one leg over you to prevent you from leaving
“If you won’t go to bed for your own sake, at least stay in bed for me... I don’t want to be alone” he murmurs
you silently curse at your boyfriend- how dare he be this cute
still, you didn’t fight or resist him at all, you lay there in bed, surrounded by the warmth Scaramouche gave off
your eyelids were growing heavy and you curse at the fact that he knew that you were lacking sleep
not that you were mad at him for being attentive towards you- it warmed you up knowing he cared for you like this
and before you knew it, you drifted back to sleep, practically cradled by your boyfriend
you hate to admit it, but this was far better than going out to run errands
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Quicky little reversal of the "noble sacrifice" trope. ~1600 words, warnings for major injuries, blood, and main character not-quite-death (with all the musings-on-death that comes with that)
Jaskier presses himself against the collapsed stone wall, heart thundering, ears ringing. The air smells of sulphur and magic and blood. There's a pain in his side—broken ribs, he thinks—and another in his shoulder where the arrow had ripped through the skin.
Leather hadn’t been enough to stop it. He hadn't prepared for this. Even if he'd known…
Even then, nothing could have prepared him for this.
His lungs burn with the effort just to keep breathing. His mouth tastes like iron. Beside him, Geralt is attempting to regain his breath in quick, sharp gasps. He's worse for wear than Jaskier, but he's a witcher. He'll heal.
Jaskier doesn't know how many people are back there. Soldiers, mages, mercenaries. He'd stopped counting at a dozen, and still there were more.
This is it. This is it, he knows, and he never thought it would end like—
He forces back the noise that tries to rise up his throat, making his ribs judder and constrict, the pain like a knife in his side.
There's only one way out. One way, blocked by the deadliest forces Nilfgaard could muster to ensnare a witcher.
A witcher and a bard. Jaskier knows he's incidental to all this; they found out months ago that he wasn't worth anything to them. The scars on his knuckles and the gap between his teeth is proof enough of that. When they catch them, his death at their hands will be little more than collateral damage. They won't even bother to hand his body to their masters.
It will all be for nothing. Nothing will remain of him aside from the echoing choruses of a handful of bawdy drinking tunes, and the memory of the song that made Geralt something more than the Butcher of Blaviken.
Not for nothing, then. Not quite for nothing.
And—oh. Of course. It's all been building to this, all these years. Nearly three decades of waiting, and now he knows, really, why he's here.
He turns to Geralt. His witcher's expression reflects the hopelessness in Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier swallows down a mix of blood and spit.
"Pass me that sword," he mutters.
Geralt frowns at him. "What?"
"That one—" Jaskier nods to the corpse near Geralt's leg, "—I don't think he needs it anymore."
“Just pass it here, you stubborn bloody witcher.”
Geralt’s expression deepens, but he does as he’s told. Jaskier takes the sword from him, feeling the weight of it. It’s too heavy, and the grip feels foreign and unwieldy beneath his fingers, but it will do. Perhaps he can take one or two with him.
"I need you to run," he says. "They'll come for me, and you run. Don't turn around."
“What are you—” Geralt realises, all at once. Jaskier watches as his scowl lifts, transforming into shock. “No.”
“I don’t think we’ve got a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Jaskier peers around, lifting his hands as high as he dares without getting an arrow through his palm. “Do you see any other option, Geralt? Really?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
Jaskier sighs. He rests the sword on his knees.
"Geralt…” He looks away; he can’t keep Geralt’s gaze. “Ciri needs you. Yen needs you, even if she won't say it. I need you. I've needed you for nearly thirty years. But now…" he runs his hand through his hair with a sigh, "now you need me. This is why I'm here. It's like—" he chokes on a laugh as he turns back around. "It's destiny, isn't it?"
Geralt looks horrified. "Fuck destiny," he spits, "No, Jask—"
"You're still crucial to all this," Jaskier says. "You play a part in however this ends. I don't. I'm just the bard. Let me be more."
Geralt grabs at his wrist. "Don't."
Jaskier shakes himself free. Geralt's grip is stronger than he anticipates.
"You don’t get to choose, this time."
He heaves himself up to his knees and peers around the wall. They're still surrounded. It's still hopeless.
"Jaskier—" Geralt's face is pale beneath the blood stains. "Please."
There are hot, stinging tears burning in the corners of Jaskier's eyes. A heaviness in his chest. His heart is a stone, calcified beneath its own weight.
"Promise me you'll run," he says.
Geralt's expression cracks. He surges forward, pulling Jaskier into a crushing embrace.
"Just…" he pulls back. "Just tell me why, Jask."
Jaskier shrugs, steadying his grip on the sword.
"Because Ciri will save the world one day," he says. "And she's going to need you there. And…" he hesitates. It’s now or never; he can already feel his shoulders going cold. "And, Gods, Geralt—"
Before Geralt can speak or he can change his mind, Jaskier pushes forwards, crushing their mouths together. It's a messy, bloodied kiss, a clash of teeth and fumbling breaths, but Geralt doesn't pull away; doesn't recoil. Jaskier releases him with a soft sigh. His lips tingle.
"And because I love you. And before you ask…" he thinks for a moment, "...twenty-seven years, eight months, two weeks and… three days." He licks his lips. "Give or take."
"Say goodbye to Ciri for me, will you? And Yen."
And then he's rising, his unsteady legs suddenly like steel, the lump in his chest like armour. A cry goes up from their assailants—he ignores it—and he strides forwards, sword drawn, a rumbling shout in his throat.
He does not look back.
Gods, he wants to look back.
He steps forward, away from the protection of the ruined wall.
It's an odd sort of peace. His head is usually so full, but now—now it's just silence. The first soldier falls swiftly. There is fresh blood on Jaskier’s face. The second—this one is a mage, he’s sure—goes down slower. Then he's running, he doesn't need to win, he just needs to lead them away, to bait them—
He doesn't stop. He tunnels ahead, blind to all else, powered by something that now is completely out of his control.
He is going to save Geralt, and he is going to die, and he is going to rest, at last.
He will not turn. He must not turn, because if he does, he will falter.
Something hits him from behind. He goes down quick, the floor rising, his vision turning a blissful black. The stones beneath him are cold. His head pounds. The ringing in his ears fades to a low hum.
He prepares himself to give into it. To the relief from the ache in his legs and the stabbing in his ribs and the ripping sting in his throat.
But it never comes.
The stones beneath him are cold. His head pounds, and the ringing in his ears fades into a voice—low and all-too familiar.
His eyes snap open. “Am I not dead?”
Geralt is looking down at him. He’s laughing, the bastard. “You’re not dead.”
“Oh.” Jaskier sits up. He winces; living people get to enjoy the full impact of broken ribs, it seems. “Um. Not to sound ungrateful…” he sniffs, “but why not?”
Geralt heaves him to his feet. Standing is a herculean effort now he’s very much not-actually-dead. He sways a little, and there’s a firm hand around his waist, another gripping his shoulder.
“You killed the mage,” Geralt says, kicking at the body beside them. “Turns out we weren’t as outnumbered as we thought.”
“Meaning that most of them were just magic projections. They weren’t real.”
Jaskier looks around at the suddenly empty room. “Shit.”
“I was supposed to be nobly sacrificing myself for you and everything.”
Geralt grins at him. It’s odd to see his expression so free; so unguarded.
“I thought you were doing it for Ciri?”
Jaskier shrugs. He nearly died—or at least, he thought he was going to die. He’s earnt this. “Mostly you, though.”
“You kissed me.”
“And you told me you loved me.”
“I did that too.” Jaskier shifts his weight. “But that was under the assumption that I was running towards certain death, and thus we wouldn’t be forced to have a difficult conversation about it while you awkwardly rejected me.”
“Why did you tell me?” Geralt says. “Why then?”
Jaskier looks at him. He really looks at him. The grin has gone, now, replaced with something more serious. He looks a little hurt.
“Because I was shitting myself,” Jaskier says. “Because I’d gone mad with fear. Because… because I wanted to know what kissing you was like before I died.” He kicks at the ground. “I wasn’t really thinking long-term, you know.”
“Do you ever?”
“Hah.” The laugh makes Jaskier wince. “Fair point.”
They fall into silence. Around them, the bloodied floor glistens. They need to leave, Jaskier knows. Next time, the threat might be real.
And then Geralt is twisting him around—he’s still holding onto him, Jaskier realises belatedly—and tugging him closer, and kissing him, and—Gods—it’s so much better when he isn’t moments away from dying.
It’s not quite as rushed as before, not as frantic, but there’s an urgency to it that Jaskier doesn’t miss. He longs to deepen the kiss and chase it, to slide his tongue into Geralt’s mouth and see how he tastes, but they’re both battered and bloody and even this is making his chest squeeze, and not in the pleasant way that kisses normally do.
He pulls away with a low gasp and a wheeze. “Geralt…”
“Thank you,” Geralt says, their lips brushing. “For nobly sacrificing yourself for me.”
Jaskier’s heart thunders in his fragile chest. “Anytime.”
He can feel Geralt's fingers twitch where he's holding him up.
"And I lo—"
There's a crash. The sound of footsteps.
"For fuck's—" Jaskier doesn't get to finish that sentence before Geralt his hauling him towards the doorway. He forces his feet to work again, stumbling over bodies and fallen debris.
"Run?" He says, turning to peer at Geralt.
Geralt's expression is sure; a little cocky. "Run."
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Episode! One! Reaction!
Oh wow I am not used to the 1 AM thing any more, I got so used to actually sleeping, wow.
Okay just rattling some thoughts off, here we go:
I love all four of our new characters so much? Like, so much that I almost regret the returning characters we also have, not because I don't also love them but because what if we had more of this. (But soon they'll all be this together, whatever this turns out to be.)
I am so serious about class as a major theme of this campaign. Like, obviously it's only episode one! who knows! But I'm feeling something-something-solidarity-something out of our new characters, and Bertrand Bell intersects with that in some really interesting ways, and I think I really want it?
Because right, you could tell from episode one of the last campaign that this was an outsider narrative! This overarching, constant theme that we carried through for a hundred and twenty-odd episodes was that this was a motley group of people who don't fit anywhere. The goblin in the mask, the cleric of a forbidden god, the traveling carnival that nobody trusts which can only stay so long and not longer -- it was about social isolation, about being alone, and having the chance to find a handful of other people to be weird outsiders with. (And yes, of course the final big bad at the end of the campaign was assimilation. Of course it was.)
And the thing is: that's not what we have, here.
(oh no, episode one meta got long, Read More after the cut)
Our characters starting out here -- and I'm leaving the EXU trio to the side for a moment, I'll get to them later -- are poor. And they're poor in a different way than newbie adventurers often are. They're not just temporarily strapped for cash until they take the next easy-to-come-by job that will set them up for life. They are poor in lifestyle, in resources, in connections, in socioeconomic power, and in a way that suggests this is and has been and, were it not for today's events, would continue to be a long-term thing.
And also: They are not wealthy, they are not important, they are not respected. But they are also, even outside their own party, not alone.
I love Imogen and Laudna so fucking much, already. Everything about their vibe speaks to long comfortable companionship, not of the 'we rely on each other for codependent survival' way (which, face it, is as much pre-game Vax and Vex as it is pre-game Nott and Caleb), but in a 'we know and share each other's problems' sort of way, a comfortable sort of way. They're not busy trying to caretake one another or step in front of each other's bullets, they're just on the same page about goals and steps to reach them.
They're not set up in opposition to the world. They're very much part of the world. They buy groceries for their landlady, they do her dishes, she knits them socks! They try so hard to go through official channels for these university resources. And yes, they're different, they're not from around here, they're a little weird, Imogen hears thoughts and Laudna looks like death, but. "We've done well for ourselves here," they say, and they mean it. And what that means to them is, we have a warm and comfortable place to call home, and a person who welcomes us there and doesn't charge more for rent than we can afford. We have enough to live on and we haven't been chased out of town on a rail.
And like, just that, just with that, we're already making class statements. We're already setting up a situation where these two ladies, who don't have money, who don't have influence or relations, who aren't important, can't get access to a resource they need (for whatever reason). (Which--it sure seems like the resource they're looking for is knowledge about their own magical powers, which, y'know, fun magic bonuses aside, sure seem to work a lot like disabilities for them in at least a couple of ways. Socioeconomic gatekeeping access to disability resources? In my fantasy fiction? It's more likely than you think.)
And then we get Ashton and FCG, and the fucking queer punk group house that is inhabited by too many people with not quite enough money to pay the cheap-ass rent that doesn't quite cover repair work for the holes in the walls, not really enough of anything to go around, but also someone found a half-broken robot in a pile of dead bodies and brought it home and now we have one more roommate because sure, why not, right? Ashton's all surface cynicism and sour bite, but they know people. They network! They live gig-economy style, one payday to the next, and they know who to talk to for the possibility of work, dozens of people know Ashton by name and general skill set. Ashton knows them all by name right back. And for all their cynicism and pretense of not caring, they've adopted FCG entirely: here, this is my new robot friend, this is the new guy, this is what they can do, this is what they're looking for. Here, let me show you around town, let me tell you what to expect, you're cool, I like you. (And right, part of this is Taliesin, who is literally incapable of creating a character that doesn't have a place and a community, family or otherwise, broken or otherwise, to belong to. But Percy's family was dead and Caduceus's family was gone, and Molly's circus broke and shattered and left him. Ashton's community is an entire neighborhood, is businesses and individuals and fundamental socioeconomics. He may have to leave it for a while, but it's going to still be there, unless the entire neighborhood burns. In which case we really are looking at total class warfare.)
And ok, let's talk about class warfare for a minute. Let's talk Bertrand Bell.
I am so fucking fascinated by the choice to revive Bertrand Bell, of all characters, for this campaign. And I love the role he's playing here.
Bertrand Bell is a con man. He's a charlatan. He once got dragged through literal Pandemonium and back because he bragged too much and got called out on it. He has always pretended to know more than he really knows, to be able to do more than he really can, getting by on bluff and swagger and a very impressive sword. But now? Well, he's older, now. He's not level 18 any more. He's a level 5 fighter. He's got to work to stay up with the lifestyle to which he's accustomed, let alone grind towards the lifestyle to which he's always aspired to become accustomed.
So he drops names, he makes deals, he tries so damn hard to ingratiate himself to the upper class, the people he wants to be with. And they don't respect him at all, because of course they don't, because they're elderly in secure luxury and he's elderly but still on that hustle, because he doesn't have the resources to put it down. And his solution to his dilemma, very pertinently, is to prey on people with even fewer resources than himself.
I absolutely believe the aspersions cast on 'did Bertrand Bell set up the whole animated-objects debacle to try and lure some promising adventurers'. One hundred percent, I believe it. He jumped on them the instant the fight was over. He was obviously desperate, given his reception at Lord E's manor. It is painfully transparent how much he thinks he needs this, and it doesn't even seem to be a case of blackmail or gambling debts or threats hanging over him or any of that. Lord E would've been happy enough to never see him again. The only bad thing that happens to Bertrand Bell if he doesn't summon up this group of baby adventurers to sacrifice on the altar of upward mobility is that...he doesn't get what he wants. Doesn't get the resources he thinks he needs, the money, the clout, the status, the attention.
And that's an interesting story! That's a really interesting force to be putting up alongside a team of people who, for the most part, largely just seem to be trying to get by. I can't wait to see where they go with it.
I did promise to come back around to our EXU trio, too, so let's get into that. They've got a lot of interesting potential here, maybe especially Dorian, though we'll see how long he's sticking around for. (He's a born-and-raised very rich kid, from this general region of the globe, who left his family for Complicated Reasons and clearly has unresolved feelings about the wealth he came from. Interesting.) Mostly, though, what we see from Fearne and Orym is an outsider perspective on the entire system. Fearne and Orym aren't part of the class structure of this city. They're tourists. Foreigners. Adventurers, and if we've seen anything over on Tal'dorei, it's that "adventurer" is its own socioeconomic class entirely. (The details of which I think are due when it's not two in the morning.)
Adventurers don't worry about the day-to-day basic economics of survival -- there's always another monster to kill if you need cash, or a wealthy patron to spot you an airship or an inn, or a vault to loot, or something. Fearne steals a man's earring for fun and shinies, not money. An adventurer doesn't have to rely on the goodwill of one city's community just to live in, because they can travel anywhere. They bring their own community in the form of their party, and never leave home without it.
Orym and Fearne especially don't come from socioeconomic backgrounds that look anything like this city even before they became adventurers. Druid communes or feywild villages don't have a lot in common with urban class stratification! Which means that they're going to be learning a lot of this stuff for the very first time, seeing some of it reflecting on their fellow party members, and building their relationships with it anew. How do tourists fit in with a local socioeconomic system? Either they fund it from the outside with their presence, or they assimilate.
Anyway. Maybe I'm wrong! Maybe none of these themes or ideas will ever come back again. But I'm feeling very 2021 right now, with all that entails, and it's making me think that maybe-just-maybe this story's feeling it too. Why not tell a story about eating the rich before the rich can devour the poor? I'd be up for that. I'd be up for watching CR do that.
(Of course, given that it's a quarter after two in the morning and I still care enough to finish this post, I'd be up for watching CR do a lot of things. Still. The point stands.)
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Genre: Fluff (F)
Toman reacts to : s/o with a double life.
warnings: Reader is a menace to society
requested by: @kurapikaisgod
Summary: gang leader!s/o that hides the fact that she Is a True menace and a gang leader to anyone.
They honestly thought you weren't the type to lead a gang. You went to the same school as them, hung out with them as much as you both could. Never would they have thought you would be the Commander of the most fierce gang in the region that could keep Toman on their toes.
I mean you were the cute girl next door or the childhood bestie turned girlfriend who'd bring snacks for the both of you to share.
You were the leader?
His baby would steal his shirts, sweaters, jackets because they smell like him and made you feel safe?
The person who couldn't stand not doing his hair so it would look its best every day?
The sweet little thing that would cling onto him and ask him to cuddle to fall asleep and pout if he had to leave.
I mean now that they think about it there were signs that you weren't exactly oblivious in gang life but nothing that would raise any flags!
They would have never suspected you until now. Now that they see it with their own eyes.
It was so shocking.
One thing for certain though you knew how to keep both lives a secret and separate.
The only way they found out you are the leader of a bunch of delinquents was catching mid-gang war with some other gang they were going to fight later on but they had the misfortune of pissing you the hell off.
To this day you refuse to admit you are a gang leader.
Now it all made sense to him. No wonder you understood his struggles to lead toman. You were a gang leader yourself of course you would understand!
He could get over this honestly but it was so shocking to see you out in the delinquent life. Your physical appearance was overhauled into a completely another person.
was.. was that a bike??
You had your own bike?!
Not to mention you and your gang had this intense aura around all of you. The ripped traffic signs used as a weapon in a dirty gang fight were not a sight he got to see every day. It certainly didn't help that you jumped used one of your division captains as a jumping stool to smack the enemy commander with the said sign.
Like he has seen Baji be a menace his entire life, but you were giving Baji a run for his money.
As soon as you beat the ever-living crap of your opponents, you stripped them down and burnt their uniform.
oh, but you weren't done yet, oh no.
You stole their bikes to " scrap them for parts."
The biggest insult to any delinquent to face ever on their ride.
Ken Ryujin Draken
He's still in shock. Like his princess is a what?!
He'll just stand there like a sour thumb just watching you reck havoc on your opponents. He was literally coming over to your house with a bunch of snacks and your favorite face masks you love doing with him. And your over here causing mass mayhem like your left depended on it.
He'll watch you take off your own shoe and just start whacking people with it and the funny thing is some of them actually get knocked out by your shoemaking him think it's like a titanium grade weapon of mass destruction. He's seen Mikey's sandals and they're holding on for dear life but not your shoes.
All that's going on in his mind is
This chaotic man would join the fight with no sweat. He doesn't care it's not his gang. He sees you swinging so he starts swinging at anyone who doesn't match the color scheme that you're wearing.
friendly fire happened a couple of times while this fight was going on.
He sees you strip people so he start stripping people too. Then he sees you separating some of the bikes and you just turn to him and say
"Which one do you want for you and Chifuyu baby?"
Once he picks two bikes even though he tells you he has his "cockroach" your members choose their own and that's when shit gets a little crazy.
Once you pile up the bikes and your opponent's uniforms he notices you put them in a certain way. Then you stab the gas tank in someone's bike in the said pile before you throw a lit fire match creating the biggest bonfire any of those who stood witness had ever seen.
He's proud of you but you swore him to secrecy to never speak of that night to anyone.
Okay, to be fair he was there first. You see sometimes Chifuyu likes a change of scenery when ready for his manga. He was originally going to hang out with you but you told him you had "problems with your partners on a project". He was going to track them down himself but you stopped him and gave him your cutest face you could possibly handle and he let it go.
So were these your project partners or??
Because he didn't expect you just giving the man below you the Haitani hold the baton special and replace it with a fucking stop sign but hold the death!! It was wild like you looked at this man's bike right? The man you had just gave the biggest facial reconstruction operation ever.
And you took his bike, Chifuyu wanted to question you but he believed you would tell him if you wanted to.
But then you freaking gave him the bike you stole from the dude! Obviously with a total makeover but still!!
Guess who you were throwing hands with babe?
If you guessed his older brother Taiju you would be correct.
In his honest opinion, you were doing Tajiu so dirty. You poked his eyes out mid-fight just because you wanted him to yell out "My eyes!"
Then you went up behind him all sneaky like and made him trip by kicking the back of his knees. Which made him receive a stop sign to the face as soon as he fell.
You distracted Koko by throwing money in the air and made INupi break his pretty heels (which you apologized for later). Your gang wasn't even fighting seriously they were just flowing everyone. In fact, you started pulling out your phone to take selfies with all the chaos as the background, you had it all not to mention some of your members decided to take pictures of you clowning everyone as if it were just a picnic or class field trip.
seriously they had videos and pictures of you slapping Taiju's ass as hard as you could and then saying "Not as great as your brother."
Pachin and Peyan
Look Pah-chin is scared for you and by you. After what happened to his friend's girlfriend he's scared the same thing will happen to you and Peyan will share that sentiment.
that is till they witness the aftermath of your anger.
They don't know wtf happened but it ends up looking like a bare wasteland by the time you were done.
Okay, menace energy picks up on menace energy but you were so down-low about it he literally felt like he was hallucinating.
Well, that was until he saw you literally using WWE-style moves on your opponents. You started smacking people with whole ass benches and chairs if they didn't stay down. You curb-stomped a couple of these dudes, you and your vice commander would tag team a dude for shits and giggles. It was rinsed and repeated and he literally got jealous of your vice-commander.
This man literally joins in the fight too just like baji and he starts swinging and he ended up calling it a date night.
Oh my god
it was another Smiley
Smiley on the down-low
Oh, poor baby was panicking! He'd watch you throw whole ass people, bikes, stop signs, shoes basically anything you could get your hands on.
Then and this is the most shocking to him, you take all of their money and wallets.
you take credit cards, debit cards, cash, and jewelry.
The same jewelry you gift to him. This explains how you got money for all those dates and shopping sprees you love to take him on to buy him things.
You start to burn their uniforms and bikes after you look at them to see if they have anything cute to give to souya or pawn off at a pawn shop.
Somehow your opponents get so much more ballsy and try to fight again and this time you give them the blue crying ogre holding the crying special. Your knuckles ended up being busted so you had to start kicking them till they stayed down.
He doesn't have enough bandaids for all of this!
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ok got out of dune. some thoughts
4) no truly… wow. and hot damn for good measure.
5)ok so idk how anyone could watch this just on a tv screen and feel satisfied. this was made for the big screen. especially imax. if you can see this in theater and choose not to youre cheating yourself. truly.
6) the sound. it’s glorious. not only the score which is *chefs kiss* but the whole sound design. the way they did the voice was perfection and especially effective in one scene. the way you felt it reverberate through you and shake your seats… perfect.
7) the scale. so immense. visually stunning in every way. some films and their shitty cgi need to crawl away in shame
8) the world building is great. i like how they drop you in to everything and the film expects it’s audience to be smart enough to get it. there’s a lot here but it’s not too hard to get the idea of what’s going on. i have a basic knowledge of the story and I didnt find it confusing or inaccessible. the exposition that is done flowed well with the story, was to the point and not clunky at all. i liked how the dialogue let us know in pretty simple terms at how the fremen have been manipulated and the subtle ways you can already see that paul is not gonna be some savior. (the vision of him with the blue eyes gave me chills)
9) the worm scenes were a delicious taste and i want mooooooore like ugh
10) i thought the ending was perfect. everyone said it was “abrupt” so I expected something super sudden and clunky thay made people go huh?? is it over???but … not at all. it ended perfectly in my opinion for a film that’s a part one. it felt like a nice close but also a ~stay tuned shit is just about to get even better. no quibbles there at all
11) the cash is perfect. everyone nails their roles. that being said this is mainly a jessica and paul centered film and they are great
12) timothée was made to be a movie star. period. the camera adores him. that face. that FACE. he’s never been so beautiful. i couldn’t take my eyes off him. he’s old timey hollywood beautiful. i can’t wait till part 2 and hopefully 3 to see him truly let loose in the role. his acting in the gom jabbar scene and with jessica in the tent thingie scene was perfection
13) denis is honestly a master filmmaker. even if you don’t like him or the movie, the technical mastery on every level needs respect
my only quibbles were that we didn’t get to see enough of the mentats, I wanted more duncan (spoiler alert if you know what happens in the books then… well 😏)and sometimes some of what the characters were saying sounded… muddled to me and hard to understand. specifically the baron. the effects on his voice made some things unintelligible too me… which might have been a side effect of the sound in the theater idk. or my hearing is shit. oh and that i wanted more lol. like i know denis doesn’t do them but i hope he changes his mind and gives us a super duper extended cut come on bitch
otherwise I had fun, the time flew by for a long film, it was perfectly paced imo and was the perfect sort of opener/appetizer to hopefully 1 to 2 more films. you did it denis you crazy bastard u did it
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okay imagine this: breakup. in front of the avengers. but secret relationship. nobody has to know it’s a breakup. but it is. good luck super writer ;)
A/N: I have to admit I didn’t quite follow what you requested… Or maybe just a little bit, like yes but no lmao. Anywayyy, hope you’ll like it. Good reading!
𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)
Summary: Wanda and you are secretly dating. But sometimes things don’t work quite right, even more when it’s secret, and you need to put an end to things. But subtly so no one can understand. And if it’s a tough situation for Wand and you, it’s maybe a chance for a certain redhead to revive an old flame between you and her…
Warnings: a bit philosophical, but none really
Masterlist | Character Masterlist
✦ ✦ ✦
Like every first Friday of every month, you and the Avengers were at the movies to watch a new movie. It was a tradition that you had adopted over time.
You were in a corner of the room waiting with Steve for everyone to come and buy whatever they wanted to eat or drink during the movie. Leaning against the wall, you stared at an invisible point in front of you. You were lost in your thoughts. Steve was next to you, standing and silent. He was like a brother to you and his presence was about the only one you could handle lately. Even though the Avengers were your friends, you weren't always comfortable with them. But Steve was different. You trusted him.
After a few minutes of silence, you ended up expressing your thoughts out loud. Which made Steve turn to look at you.
“It’s funny how sometimes you open your eyes and realize that some people are not quite like you thought they were.”
“What do you mean?” Steve asked, intrigued.
“Sometimes someone loves someone but that very someone doesn’t love ‘em back or not the way they should,” you said calmly, “And sometimes it’s just about betrayal.”
Steve watched your facial expression for a second but your face wasn’t showing anything too evident.
“Cheating?” the blonde asked.
“Lying,” you corrected.
You took a second to put your ideas together so that you could say enough for Steve to understand you without saying too much so as not to reveal your secret.
“It’s just that lying is not an option, you know?”
Steve nodded slowly, understanding your point of view. But before he could answer, he was interrupted by Natasha who overheard your conversation.
“Yup,” she said, passing by to grab something to drink, “It was definitely not an option when we were together.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes at the redhead’s comment. Steve frowned, looking at Natasha who was wearing a proud smirk on her face. You ignored the girl and started explaining your thoughts again.
“One day you wake up and when you look in front of you, you don’t see what you used to see. And it’s a whole other world that you discover.”
“Uh… I’m still lost here,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.
You were about to respond to the blonde to make him understand your thoughts when you saw Wanda approaching the both of you out of the corner of your eye. The brunette walked towards Steve without giving you the slightest glance which annoyed you. Seeing the confusion on Steve’s face, Wanda understood you were telling him one of your mysterious ideas about life or something like that.
“Don’t mind her, Steve. She can be very confusing sometimes,” the brunette said jokingly, “What was she trying to make you understand this time?”
Hearing the mocking tone in Wanda's voice, you started to tense. Without giving Steve time to speak, you answered Wanda's question for him.
“I was just explaining him how the masks always fall in the end.”
“Oh,” Wanda said under her breath, “The masks.”
“What? You don’t agree?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“Well, it’s a tough question, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side a little.
“No. I think it’s a pretty easy one. As easy as not to lie.”
“People are not always lying, Y/n. It’s a complicated world and we’re complicated people.”
“Wanda, hiding things, denying the truths, it’s lying.”
“And holding someone by the feelings? What is it?” Wanda asked you, now upset, “Don’t you think it’s hard to speak up when you feel trapped?”
You looked at the brunette right in the eyes, with your arms still crossed. Her emerald gaze was cold but so deep and it hurt you.
“If you feel like a prisoner, you can just ask for the key to escape the prison,” you declared and Wanda gritted her teeth.
“I don’t think they would hand me the key so easily if I ever was in such a situation.”
“How do you know? You never asked for the key, right?”
There was a brief moment of silence during which Steve, who was still standing next to you, tried to read Wanda’s emotions and yours in your eyes. But he couldn’t. Only the both of you could.
“Love is hard, Y/n,” Wanda said, looking at you straight in the eyes.
“Love is free, Wanda. And if you feel imprisoned, then it’s not love,” you simply told her in return, “If you have to run into someone else’s arms or dive into someone else’s eyes to free yourself from these feelings, then it’s… it’s nothing. It’s not worth anything.”
“So what? What do you do in this situation?”
“You follow your path. You find the light at the end of the tunnel. And you are free. Alone, but free.”
“Alone?” Wanda wondered, her voice almost breaking.
“Alone,” you confirmed.
Wanda was about to say something more but Steve was quickest to speak.
“Ehh okay,” he exclaimed, clapping his hands, “I think we’re good to go, now. Let’s just watch this movie, okay? And enjoy the moment, please.”
Your gaze stayed fixed on Wanda for a second before you turned to Steve. You briefly smiled at him and nodded your head. Wanda didn’t say anything but she turned around and started walking to the cinema room without waiting for you not for Steve. But she suddenly stopped and you watched her turn around to look at you, eyes glowing.
“One last question,” she said and you listened intently, “What’s the key?”
Without even thinking, you easily answered the brunette, “Loyalty.”
Wanda nodded and then she started walking away again.
You apologetically smiled at Steve who was very confused by this conversation and he smiled back. Then, you started walking to the cinema room.
✧ ✧ ✧
Natasha had been standing in a corner of the room, not too far away from you, and she could watch the whole altercation. She knew you very well and knew exactly what was going on. So, when you started walking to the cinema room, she walked to you.
“So…” she said, walking by your side, “What about the girl you were seeing?”
Of course, you weren’t stupid. You knew that Natasha knew. But you also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it. When it came to things about you, Natasha was an excellent secret keeper. You knew that.
“We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“True,” Natasha admitted with a little smile, “Why did it end?”
You stopped walking and Natasha did the same. You looked at her for a second and you sighed.
“Let’s say she wasn’t very loyal. At least not to me.”
“She’s such an idiot.”
“What? I’m just saying,” Natasha told you, raising her hands in innocence, and you rolled your eyes.
You knew perfectly what the redhead was trying to do and you had to admit that maybe it was working a little. Things had always been complicated between the two of you, but you couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry that’s always been between you. Even after you broke up.
“Come on,” you finally said, holding Natasha’s hand to make her follow you, “We’re gonna miss the movie.”
Natasha smiled at the sight of your hand in hers. Maybe you still had feelings for her. After all, you never had to keep what was between the both of you secret like you did with Wanda. So maybe it was a new chance for Natasha to make things work between you. Even if she knew you weren’t ready to fall back in her arms that soon. But everything can happen. Things can work again. And dreams could come true. Who knows?
✦ ✦ ✦
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- child of light.
[ Part one ] [ Part two ] [ Part three (uc) ] [ rules ] a/n: Sorry for the long delay! I've been hospitalized yesterday so I wasn't able to write this. Part three (lumine and aether) coming soon! I got a bit too excited for Albedo lol.
Child of Khaenri'ah, Child of Teyvat. You're the voiceless light that guides me through a desolate tunnel. For once you adore me with pinkened cheeks, you prayed all the bitter scars away with your blissful lips.
Fleeting wonder concentrated on his latest piece of art, skilled fingers stroking the canvas with a simple marker. Its details alone emphasized the refined lines and polished waves of layered greys and blacks. It's an isolated Cecilia flower that stood amongst weeds of grass. Mountains stood in pride behind the bud, but the blossom had the limelight, for now.
Perplexing yet thorough. That is to say when fractions of glitter shine under the tempting lantern-like twinkle of fireflies, which strewn across the canvas as it belonged there.
Nearly complete. To be exact, he'd illustrate his God, his gracious soul, and that he did. Utilizing ample pigments to accentuate the figure above the shadow of the flower. There's effort, miraculously so, applying delicate and heavy lines that fitted, like a juxtaposition you are. He's met with a feat of passion upon the dazzling drawing. Marveling at the illustration, his eyes glazed with satisfaction, noting to keep this hanged, perpetually at due's time.
It's gorgeous, like the God he oh-so cherished, but it could never approximately compare. As dear as this is, your graceful presence, the true you, would win in a battle of glamour contradicted to that of his drawing.
Speaking of which, you stood behind him.
"Albedo, please," his name entered through his senses in the early twilight. It's nothing but a whisper, like the puffs of air that ebbed the window's veils. Your whimpers seized his interest, glistening orbs that gleamed like the marking on his throat. Dainty fingers rub the tides of tears, nose sniffling as choked sobs commenced. Leaned against the foyer of his lab, where he concealed you from the rigorous treatment of the Archons and people alike, is your tearful stare.
Like a God, to which you are, with numerous blemishes of crimson in your skin and a wounded disposition plastered unto your complexed countenance.
"Your highness, what must you be doing this late up the night?" The key to the answers presented itself to his very eyes, bawled up form that leaned onto his door's chamber. Yet, it knawed at his throat, hands imprinting at his nature. There's a glaze that dissolved, gazes crumbling to that of tenderness.
"I... I need you. Please." How could he dismiss this opportunity? Not when pouty lips thinned to a line, and eyes swam with a request. He'll gladly submit, with open arms, eager for a whiff of your contact, just as you are for his solace.
"Mm. Come over here." He patted his lap, enthusiastic over the fact that he's your initial preference.
You staggered to his arms, wobbly legs knocking out one of his vials- but he heeds no sustenance to it. Albeit you, your stance quivered at the shattering noise. Loud gulps of air and pleads of mercy. Trembling, crushing, you're all but unwinding from the resurfaced trauma. Even as he caressed your back from your chest to your waist, hushed you with his sinful voice - he deserves nothing from you - there's this thoughtful consideration that he should've accomplished further when it comes to your favor.
"I'm sorry, don't hurt me. I, I don't mean it. Sorry, sorry, forgive me, please don't be mad-"
Nevertheless, hostility doesn't dare prevail. For you, his Divine God never faulted. He should be the one who's kneeling before you, pleading. Not your Divination.
"Don't be sorry, your highness." There's a kiss, maybe two or more, skimming his lips to your face, to your tears that glistened. Thumb kneaded into your heated skin.
Sweet hums had your tremble before his arms.
"Nothing is your fault, hm?" Assuring this statement, his palm reached to the back of your head, serenely caressing, and jeweled orbs met with yours, one like an ocean of knowledge and perception; holding deep a nation of mysteries.
You're lost in it, discovering solace as your bawls withered down, only stifling whines. The Alchemist kissed your lips with fervor in a sudden rush of euphoria. It prompted awe, provoked you with the same pinnacle of elation. Eventually, you gave in, returning the affection with hands that e clammed to both his cheeks, stooping to his height, sloppily kissing with longing, the yearning for affection, to which he so happily blessed.
Once both parties stopped, greedily drinking air; he wiped your eyes off of any scornful tears, fingers brushing against your lashes. You're shivering against his body as you leaned against his tenderness. Arms wrapped around his torso, fiddling with his hair to steady your shivers. Rolling your fingers through the braids, running it in a motion, up and down. There's nothing but silence, comfortable stillness.
Gulps of oxygen happen to lull you into a deep state of slumber, his limbs kept you steady. A hand to your back, one to your cheeks; you greedily, even in a doze, softened in his hold.
You're exhausted, he knew. And he was pleased; you're finally resting after days, maybe months of apprehension, of anxiety that someone would capture you. But you're safe with him, a haven to where you're maintained sheltered from the greed of the corrupted world.
There's fulfillment, no other than he was a sanctuary for you. That was all he is, your tool, and he's keen on appeasing you.
Maybe, he speculated, I could keep them for myself, for now.
"They can't unwind without me. I shall protect them for the night."
Child of Teyvat. To what extent must you do, to falter within my feet. To what favor must you attain, to pacify my sunken weeps?
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Can I please request one of the Haitani brothers (whichever you think fits best) coming home from a Bonten meeting and his kids run up to him all intense chatting and wanting his attention all at the same time so they start fighting and he is just like🧍🏻♂️... They're all climbing him, clinging on to him, kissing him, just all around love for their papa. And he feels good that he sees the love and admiration they have for him in their eyes. That he is their world, their protector, etc. Merci!
♡ Coming home ♡
Pairing : Haitani Ran x f!reader
Warnings : None
A/n : Mais de rien p'tit cœur ! This idea is so cute omg I wanna have a family with Ran, or Sanzu. If it's not one of them then I don't want it lmao. Thank you for requesting and have a nice day ♡
Do you know the meme "what a week this day has been" ?
That's how he felt, he worked til late
He really couldn't wait to get back home to his kids and you
If you'd told him ten years ago he'd have a s/o and three kids that he'd love with all his heart, he wouldn't even have spared you a glance
"I'm home", he said entering the house.
The first thing he heard, as he barely had closed the door, was one of your kids yelling.
"Ah ! Papa's home !"
Then it was like a herd of wild horses was heading in his direction. Hard to believe those were just your 5-year-old twins.
To this was added your voice shouting :
"How many times am I gonna have to say it ? Don't run down the stairs !"
It went quiet for twenty seconds, time needed for their little legs to go downstairs without falling, but the instant their last toe touched the final step, it was over.
"Move out of my way ! I'm gonna see papa first !" Ran recognised the voice of his daughter, Aiki.
"No ! You move out of my way ! I missed him more than you did !" it was Eiki this time.
"Liar ! And I've heard him before than you !"
Their little argument kept on going until they saw Ran at the entrance.
"Papa !" they both screamed. It was one of these high-pitched noise that would echoed in your eardrums for a while.
They sprinted their way to him. He looked at them while they were fighting like true wrestlers. But he wasn't moving, just watching. He didn't know what was wrong with him at that moment, he was just overwhelmed with all this love he never thought he'd have.
He then looked up and saw you with your new-born in your arms. You made this possible. Ran started to think back on your first few months of dating. He wasn't particularly in love with you at this time. Hell he didn't even know if he liked you even just a little bit or if you were just there to save him from boredom. He even thought you only were after his money. Either way, you felt it and weren't happy about it. He remembered you clearly telling him :
"It's not money I want, you idiot ! I want love, I want a family. I want things that can't be bought ! I want to share a life with you because that's what love is, isn't it ? The desire to live things together ! But you're too dumb to realise that."
And he thought you were crazy. Shameless. But a little bit of you came into him and contaminated like a poison. Because this is what he thought of your love before : a poison. You wanted to have and give him things that would only make him weak. His world was too dangerous and brutal for a dreamer like you. How would you survive in it ?
But he couldn't help falling in love with you.
The kissed you shared when he told you he loved you felt like a real first kiss. At first, there were two pairs of lips touching and seeking each other. Then two breaths mingling in the cold. It was a kiss, caressing which becomes almost a bite. A kiss in which one reached what is most intimate in the other. And attraction full of fascination and fear. There was neither him nor you, neither before nor after, nor north or south. Just the mixture of two people on an unknown continent. On an other planet, under an other sky.
"Ran, oh my God, do something ! She's walking on his head !"
Your voice brought him back. He hesitated to wear a belt that morning, fortunately he did. Aiki was trying to climb on him, clinging on to his pants using her brother's head for extra height.
"Aiki," he finally said, "Your brother's head isn't a stool."
He took them both in his arms and went to the couch, stopping in front of you to greet you.
"I love you," he blurted out, "I love you so much."
"Wait here, papa, we'll show you what we did at school !"
And they were gone. Ran took advantage of this moment to take your third child from your arms.
"Hey you. Don't worry, papa hasn't forgotten about you baby."
"Ran, it's almost bed time for them," you told him.
"But it's Friday night. They can go to bed a bit later, don't you think ? Beside I feel like it's been ages since I spent time with them."
"But I missed you too !" you pouted.
"Ah so that's what it's all about !" he smirked. "I'm sorry, doll. I know I spend a lot of time at work. But wait just a bit more and I promise I'll be all yours," he said leaning until his forehead was touching yours.
It was a fact : as soon as he's had a family, he'd been afraid of losing it. He found himself unarmed, fragile. If someone wanted to hurt him, they no longer had to attack him. He had became an easy target.
But he'd do anything to protect you and what you offered him.
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Venti stood by and watched with disgust as the people of Mondstadt insulted you and kicked you out of the city.
but surely now he wants to make it up to you right? Like he wants to show you the city and how kind the people actually are, how much they adore and worship you
but you refuse to go, still scared of what happened there and if it might happen again.
Now imagine you do actually go with him, and the moment you set foot in that city someone who didn't get the memo - that hey! that IS the divine one, the mighty creator - approaches you and just spits in your face threatening to beat you again should you not leave
other people start noticing and give you nasty looks again, no one has told them yet
Surely venti wouldn't just look away this time 🥺👀 and he can hear your breathing getting ragged, see your hands, his adored gods hands shaking, oh nonono no no
"Are you sure about this, Venti?" You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, shoulders set in a tense line even as you let Venti lead you to the bridge of Mondstadt's entrance.
Venti's face, which had been set in an excited expression, turns soft and understanding. "I am, your grace," he says. "Jean has already informed the knights, and I'll remain by your side too! We should have no trouble at all and nobody will bother you, I promise."
Venti wishes he hadn't spoken too soon, because it is not a few moments later, after passing through the gates with the two knights there kneeling for you as they should'vethe first time you got there, that Donna lets out the ugliest shriek has ever let out in her entire life.
"How dare you!" She screams at you, startling you and Venti who had been telling you about a new song he'd thought of singing in hopes of distracting you from your worries.
There's no moment to react before she throws a sunsettia on the crate beside at you, which Venti is barely able to get in front of. Donna is still spitting insults, quickly garnering more and more attention. "How dare you step foot back here, after you impersonated our God? Have you no shame, you scoundrel? And Venti— what is the meaning of this!?"
Venti would've answered her, angry in a way he's sure nobody would ever expect from him, but his mind is focused on the way your hands, settled on his shoulders, are trembling. Each breath you take is shaky and choked, and Venti feels like his heart is breaking into a thousand tiny shards because he knows exactly what is going on through your mind.
But this time will be different, he thinks, promises as he feels the thousand winds howl and whip around him— and yet still so gentle against your skin. He doesn't care about keeping a low profile, about the new identity he's crafted for himself, not when it ables people to hurt and insult you like this.
And just like that, he drops all the pretense and lets his Archon form show, wings wide and bright and you cradled in his arms even though you're sputtering in shock. And yet you still let him hold you, still look at him for protection, and Venti has sworn that this time he will provide.
His people cry out for Lord Barbatos, but he doesn't care, not even when his winds cause tables and billboards to fly around.
He glares at Donna, who has turned white as a paper sheet. "They are our God," he says firmly. "Insult them, hurt them in any way again, and what Dvalin did to Mondstadt will be like child's play compared to what I'll do."
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getou: satoru wyd
getou: race starts in like 10 minutes
sukuna: he's going to go pick up his nerd gf
do you guys like the idea of street racer!gojo?
as a matter of fact, i adore the idea!
i imagine the both of you two have two completely different personalities. typical trope where he has that bad boy persona and you're well... you're just there.
i don't feel like making you the stereotypical good girl. that's too boring. i'd say you're just an outcast. a nobody. someone no one looks to.
you don't know how he caught with you. when people are passing out papers, they call out your name as if they're questioning your existence. for goodness, it's already the second semester and you still manage to go unnoticed.
gojo was known around the campus. from posting the time stamps and where the races were going to be located to his thousands of followers on both instagram and snapchat, to being spread like wildfire throughout the amounts of women he's been caught sneaking around with a few times before he's met you.
yeah, you were cute. the idea for him was funny. you hated him but he was utterly obsessed with you.
he's not sure himself how he managed to fall in love with the likes of you. maybe he liked how no one noticed you, it gave him more time to have you all to himself. was it the purity that lingered off of your aura? you were a laughing stock sometimes, how was he not embarrassed by you?
sukuna: rofl he's carrying the relationship
sukuna: an actual terrible person
oh, yeah. don't forget the amount of bullying you face by his own friends.
your parents don't like him. they think he's obnoxious, two-faced, and a playboy. he's a poser. they're not used to seeing their little girl hold hands with an attractive white haired man who wears expensive shoes and jewelry. why was there a white, shiny bmw m2 sitting outside of their small little home so casually? it's probably the most luxurious thing they've seen in years.
they come to terms and accept them into your home when they realize that damn, maybe this son of a bitch is actually whipped for their daughter.
street racer!gojo would definitely have more cars. one for normalcy and the other(s) for racing purposes. this time for tonight he brings out an 18 sti, and it's wrapped in the color you told him you liked.
yeah, this motherfucker is definitely whipped for you.
"you okay princess?" he questions you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the shift, changing it every now and then since the car was an automatic. you would nod in hesitant, he'd notice and chuckle a bit. "sorry. you know i don't go to any of your races."
"it's okay baby. you turn into a cute little scaredy cat whenever i ask if you wanna come."
"because they are kind of scary..." you'd retort, looking out of the tinted window. "the thought of the police arresting us would kill me. not to mention the feeling of being on the brink of death every time you speed."
"what? like this?" he'd push onto the engine, going from 45 to 70 in just a split second, earning a squeal from your lips as you struggle to hold onto the car handles. you would glare at him and he'd give you a kiss on the cheek.
you don't get out the car when he pulls up to the destination. everyones reactions are already bad enough with you being inside of the car, why make it worse? you could already hear the gossip coming from the bunch of groupies across the street.
"heard gojo has that girl in his car, it's kind of gross."
"yeah... she actually looks so, like, embarrassing being in there. he's making himself look dumb."
"it's funny to think about. she's too much of a loser to do anything about it."
you were used to this.
used to being bullied, even up to your twentieth birthday. this was the most immature, typical high school bullshit you still had to put up with even after earning your diploma. you were nothing compared to him.
but hey, all that matters is him loving you, yeah?
i promise you, gojo really loves you.
you may not be the only girl who's been in his car during races, but at least you can say you're the only girl who's been in all five cars of his. hell, he's even let you drive some of them around.
and almost everybody knows that gojo would never let a dear soul behind a wheel that belonged to him.
after he'd win the street race, he'd definitely drive you to a nearby fast food restaurant. something quick to grab before taking you back to his apartment. you'd both eat, cuddle, sleep together and repeat with your daily lives that consistent him living his life while you stayed in his shadow.
street racer!gojo would be the engine and you'd inhale the dirty smoke that flies out of the ends, hurting you internally. but you'd ignore the signs, right? no matter how much people were against the both of you?
there was definitely no other girl that gojo could ever go crazy for, even if it meant driving his car into a ditch.
a/n: these are the cars i used as reference! the bmw and the sti used for the racing part (the tires on the sti would obvi be higher)
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the mediocre american bake-off
pairing: steve rogers x reader
summary: when you and steve participate in morgan’s annual bake-off, things get a little ugly.
word count: 2k
warnings: established relationship, joke arguments, fluff, poorly described process of baking, comedy, competitive spouses
author’s note: thank you all for being patient with me while my updates have been lacking.
you can find the rest of my masterlist here!
You and Steve had a strong relationship.
Your marriage was built on a foundation of mutual respect, strong communication, and the purest, most genuine form of love. Frankly, you were a marriage counselor’s wet dream.
But just once a year, you two got ugly.
You see, both you and Steve found yourselves to be competitive people. Typically, your competitive natures were able to be put into use in constructive ways. As a pair, you dominated team game night, and kicked ass on every mission you found yourselves working on. But, once the week of Morgan’s birthday rolled around, everything changed.
For some reason, Tony thought it was a great idea for everyone who wanted to participate, to participate in an annual baking contest to make the best cake, and who were you to decline?
It happened to be right up you and Steve’s alley; your first date was a dinner you’d cooked together at his place, one of your favorite de-stressing habits was working together to bake bread, and of course, you’d annually created and donated hundreds of cupcakes to children in the hospital together as a unit. Logically, it would make sense for you two to work together on the competition, but every year without fail, you two split due to ‘creative differences’.
This split was to the rest of your team’s pleasure, ultimately getting to indulge in two amazing cakes by the end of the week, and having a whole week to watch you bicker like children. Nat liked to say that it was humanizing to see that your relationship wasn’t all flowers and rainbows.
For the past four years, the title of “Baker of the Year” had alternated between you and Steve. After the first year of the competition— despite Morgan being an extremely young child— your teammates saw just how ‘all out’ you two went, and decided for their own safety to not participate again. It was always some lame excuse for them, like their fridge broke or they couldn’t find any icing at the store at all. But deep down you knew that the team did not want to get caught in the crossfire of the Y/N/Steve brawl.
This year was no different. You stalked behind Steve at your local Whole Foods, tilting your floppy hat down as you grabbed a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. Steve tossed a few boxes of butter into your cart— some for you and some for him— and you peered over at him.
“What’re you making this year, Rogers?” you questioned.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Rogers,” he hummed, setting a carton of heavy whipping cream into the basket.
“Yeah, I would like to know. Maybe that’s why I asked,” you sped up your pace a bit to catch up to Steve.
“You’ll find out exactly what it is when Morgan declares my cake the winner,” he shrugged.
“Mhm. Very likely,” you said dryly, finding a large carton of eggs and gently setting it in the top section of your cart. “I admire your wishful thinking, though. Not only is my cake gonna taste amazing, it’s gonna look super cute too.”
“Shouldn’t you have a cake that looks and tastes good regardless?” Steve asked with a quirked brow as you strolled into the produce section.
You stood by his side patiently as he inspected apples and tried to come up with a quippy response, but you were drawing a blank. “I mean, it’s gonna look really good. I ordered some things off of Amazon. It’s gonna be great.”
“I don’t know why, but buying extra props online doesn’t exactly sound fair,” he set the bag gently down in the cart.
“Oh sweetheart,” you chuckled, “all is fair in love and war. Now let’s get out so we can start baking!”
When you arrived at the compound—where Tony insisted you cook, because of the good facilities and it’s closer to my place than your apartment! and definitely not because he wanted to have FRIDAY record you two fighting like dogs— you two got straight to work, setting aside your ingredients so that you wouldn’t mix them up with Steve’s. As you set your individual ovens to their proper temperatures, you stood back and took one final glance at your husband.
“Let the games begin,” you said, grabbing the biggest bowl you could find from the cupboard.
It was mostly quiet in the kitchen as you worked, with only the occasional joke being made or a ‘Behind you’. But it was only a matter of time before playful banter devolved into less playful taunting.
You were leaning over your stand mixer when Steve threw the first stone, idly standing by the stove while he watched his apples soften in a pan.
“You sure that’s not box mix, babe?” he asked, sauntering over to the countertop where you were working and dipping a finger into the batter.
“Steve!” you slapped his hand away, and he licked his finger with a pensive look on his face.
“Definitely boxed. Does Betty Crocker know you’re calling her work yours?” he locked eyes with you and smirked smugly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but you’re being annoying. Get away from my station,” you bumped him lightly with your hip, and Steve took the message with a chuckle. “I hope you get salmonella,” you told him as he walked off.
Not too long later while you greased your pan, Steve came up behind you and grabbed your hips, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin out of reflex.
“Jesus, Steve! What are you doing?” you gasped, turning around and gently slapping a peck.
“Just letting you know that my cake is in the oven…” he nuzzled your neck, “please, remind me where yours is again?”
“Ha ha, very funny, Captain Obvious. I had no idea,” you reached for the batter that was still sitting in the mixing bowl on the stand. “This is your cue to leave, you horny bitch. You may be done, but I am not.”
If you saw Steve, you suspected he’d be pouting— or at least pretending to pout— but you refused to subject yourself to that. Hands released your hips, and there was suddenly an absence behind you.
Once your cake was in the oven and your icing was going to be whipped for quite some time, you decided to go bother Steve, sitting on top of his countertop while he stood across from you and scrolled on his phone.
“Is the loser doing the dishes?” you asked, swinging your legs.
“Mhm,” he hummed before looking up at you.
“Okay, cool. If that’s the case, then I think I’m gonna go paint my nails. Or maybe I’ll accidentally get an open wound or two,” you said with a smirk.
“Very likely,” Steve chuckled, setting his phone down and dramatically taking a whiff of the air. “Do you smell that?”
“What, the scent of victory?” you teased.
“No, I think your cake is burning. Or maybe it just.. naturally smells like that,” you rolled your eyes at his faux concern.
“Ooh, you got me,” you couldn’t help but giggle. It felt weird to be poorly trash talking your husband in the manner that you were. “With all the shit-talking you’re doing, you better have the best cake I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
“I can’t believe you’re doubting my baking abilities!”
At that moment, Sam peeked into the kitchen, made eye contact with Steve, then promptly turned away. You two howled with laughter for a moment before you received a text telling you how good the kitchen smelled.
By the time your cakes were out and decorated, FRIDAY had alerted you that Morgan’s party was starting in just a few minutes. You stared proudly at your devil’s food cake, quite accurately decorated like a beehive. It was probably your best work yet. If Mary Berry were in the kitchen with you, she would be proud.
You stood with your hands on your hips and admired both of the beautiful cakes in front of you, thinking of the hard work you’d put into making the delicious treats. “That looks like shit, Steve. Maybe you should stick to showing off the cake that’s attached to your body,” you teased. You’d be lying if you said your mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of that upside-down cake.
You sat with an almost smug face at a wooden picnic table next to Steve while Morgan examined the three cakes in front of her: Steve’s apple upside-down cake, your devil’s food cake, and what looked like a last minute thrown together Funfetti cake from Scott.
She decided to try your cake first, directing Pepper to cut her a slice while your team members watched in excited anticipation. You had to admit, it looked pretty amazing.
She used a fork to get a nice big bite, and hummed as she chewed. Things were looking promising for you. You glanced over at Steve to give him a smirk as Morgan clearly enjoyed your cake. At the sight of you, a small smile quirked on his own face.
Morgan simply nodded, keeping a neutral poker face, then received a slice of the upside-down cake. You really couldn’t read her reaction, but unless you were losing it, it seemed like she felt the same way about Steve’s as she felt about yours. A simple hum and a nod was all you two received. Steve gave your foot a light tap under the table, and you shook your head at him.
Finally, Morgan grabbed a slice of Scott’s sloppily put together cake that appeared to be straight out of the box. Morgan grinned as she chewed, then went in for another forkful. And another.
There was a collective tension in the yard from your teammates as they all looked back at both of you in shock. The next words that were about to come out of Morgan’s mouth would surely rock your world.
“Mm, this one is the best!” she cheered, “whoever made this is a winner winner chicken dinner.”
Scott stood up at his table, and everyone in the backyard clapped, including a hesitant applause from you and Steve. What an absolute wild card.
You gave each other curious looks; your brows creased, and his raised with surprise. Both at a loss for words for just a moment, you extended your hand before bursting out into laughter, “Good game.”
Steve shook your hand vigorously as he laughed right along with you, “Good game indeed. Now, I’d love to try some of your cake. It looks fucking delicious.”
“Really? Just a few hours ago, you were telling me just how bad it looked,” you teased, standing up and taking his hand as you walked over to the table where Morgan was poorly slicing your cakes.
After receiving lopsided slices, you made your way back to your picnic table and dug right into your cakes. With just one bite, you both were making muffled moans.
“Christ, Steve. What did you put in this?” you gasped, immediately going in for another bite.
“Are you kidding? This is like, better than sex.”
“I’ll remember you said that,” you said as you chewed.
There was a silence between you two for a few minutes as you chewed and appreciated the talent of one another.
“So will you be doing the dishes, or will I?” you asked between forkfuls of Steve’s cake.
He paused to take another bite of your cake, humming in satisfaction as he did so. “Well you know what they always say,” Steve began before away some yellow icing from his lips. “Teamwork makes the dream work. I’ll do your dishes, and you can do mine.”
“Mm, sounds good,” you nodded. “I still can’t believe Scott beat us. There had to have been some sort of bribery going on.”
“Oh absolutely. We’re not just being sore losers on this either,” Steve agreed.
“When have we ever been known to be sore losers?” you teased. “I guess we’ll just have to up our game next time.”
“No idea how you’re going to do that.”
“You flatter me, Steve,” you giggled. “Well, I guess this is the end for now. ‘Till next year?”
“‘Till next year. But we should probably work on our recipes so we don’t get bested by cake from a box again.”
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Hey Ray are we still Dumbledore bashing because oh ho ho do I have some Thoughts on his abuses of power and general shittiness.
1. Sirius - let us be our most generous to Dumbles here, and say that he had no idea Sirius wasn't the Potter's secret keeper anymore. Even so, he was Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot as well as the headmaster of hogwarts, it was his duty as a leader of the wizarding judiciary to make sure that the law was upheld. He failed to get Sirius a trial, he failed to get people with goddamned brands of allegiance on their arms arrested, he failed to preserve life and law where he could, which, wouldn't the 'greater good' be 'the greatest good for the greatest amount of people'? Not if you're Albus Manynames.
2. Trelawny - her entire interview smacks of a setup. She was Dumbledore's student once upon a time, like most of the other characters, I'm sure of it. I'm almost 100% certain Dumbles had heard that prophecy before and set her up to restate it at a strategically advantages location; or if not that prophesy, then another one while she was a student and capitalized on that for his own aggrandizement later. Why the hell else would he conduct job interviews in his estranged brother's seedy bar instead of, oh, I don't know, the heavily fortified magic castle? No, he 100% knew Snape was a spy and he %100 knew that he was there and he at least had a guess about what Trelawny would say. He kept her around and kept her in alcohol probably just in case she ever prophesied again so he could hear it and incorporate it into his plans.
3. Moving away to the castle for a bit: howmst the Fuck were there no Animagus wards on the grounds? Especially during 3rd year??? There is no universe in which Albus didn't know that the marauders were animagi, and even saying that would be unfair to Minerva, I'm pretty sure that she would be fine with not being able to come and go from the castle as a cat if it protected the students???? Also, kids play and skate on the Black Lake without any idea of the dangerous creatures that live in it other than the Giant Squid? And also calling it the Forbidden Forest? That name is basically a gilded, monogramed invitation for dumbass kids to dare their friends to go in. Who decided that having a pack of centaurs, intelligent creatures who dislike wizards, right next to a school full of wizard children was a good idea? Where the kids don't know that the centaurs are there, anything about their culture and how to not offend them, or how to defend themselves.
4. As a school, Hogwarts is absolute shit. One of the top magical academies my ass. There is a single teacher for each subject for seven different levels of education, 4 of them double as defacto parents for all the students, and one of them is a fucking ghost. And I lay all of this down at Dumbledore's feet. He wanted the adults to be too overworked to question the goings on in the school, he wanted the history class, specifically, to be useless so that no one would think to question how he runs things which further drives a wedge between the muggleborns he's (poorly, and stereotypically) catering to and the purebloods who know better because they were born into the culture, you know, like him. People forget that Dumbledore was raised as a wizard and spent his whole life in the wizarding world. Man doesn't know shit about muggles and he wants to keep these kids just as ignorant.
5. Dumbledore's collection - dumbledore is very much a collector, but like Sid from the first Toy Story movie. He'll pick up a toy and break it apart until it's useful to him. I fully believe that he realized that Sirius wasn't going to be a pawn or a follower so he let him rot in azkaban until it broke him enough to be useful, and then brought him on the Department of Mysteries raid knowing he was likely to die and give Harry something to fight for while taking away his hope. Think about it, why would he bring Sirius, a lanky, still strung out from wizard hell-prison, and definitely not firing on all cylinders wizard, into a fire fight where the dark lord himself was likely to show up if he didn't plan on having the man either die or be horribly injured to give harry fuel for martyrdom.
6. which brings me to my last bit: Harry Potter. Once I was old enough for critical thinking, this burned me to my core. We all know that Dumbles specifically set up the tasks in the first book to play to the strengths of Harry and his friends. He probably altered or completely scrapped the other professor's traps for that purpose (why actually have traps that you can pass if you are guarding something that you won't ever use? as a test, obviously). However, he set up Harry's entire life like that, which is even more unforgivable. He knew what Petunia was like since they interacted when she was a child. He knew she was the same because McGonagall told him. He had a spy living in Harry's neighborhood his entire life and not once did anything about the blatant abuse he suffered. No one checked on him, anytime someone tried to say something they had a change of heart. Dumbledore said in the later books that he didn't want to tell Harry about wizards and prophesy because he wanted him to have a normal, happy childhood. Bull. Shit. He didn't want a happy child. Happy, normal children don't make for good martyrs. That's what he wanted. He wanted Harry to grow up poor and alone so that he would idealize the wizarding world and Dumbles himself enough to die for them. To cement Dumbledore's standing and his legend. Harry was the most golden of geese: a prophesized hero, a misfortunate child, an icon, a General to rally behind and hold up as a legacy of heroism when he died, following Dumbledore, just like his parents.
Dumbledore's plans only changed when he realized that he was going to die in book 6. He had 2 of the deathly hallows and he could get his hands on the cloak just by asking Harry to borrow it, but it wouldn't have worked, it wouldn't have made him the master of death. Because the cloak is the hallow with the hardest condition to meet: it must be given to you freely by someone who is about to die. He could probably have convinced Harry to will him the cloak and then killed him, but that would leave many questions and might not have worked to gain ownership anyway. He had held the cloak, borrowed it for use when James knew he would probably die soon, probably waiting for the cloak to recognize him as it's owner when James did die, and when it didn't, he realized what had gone wrong. The cloak has to be freely passed on without reservation, and there was no way he was going to get it away from Harry since he had told Harry about it's history and connection to his family. He would never be the master of death, so he turned to securing his reputation as the untouchable Hero of the Light. He orchestrated Harry becoming the MoD-- with the confusing wand chain, fully knowing that he was putting both Snape and Draco in the direct line of fire, as well as straight up giving Harry the stone-- so that when he faced Voldemort he wouldn't stay dead, and would be able to come back and declare victory for the Light and for Dumbledore himself. His legend would be secure and his name untouchable for a long time because of his connection to Harry.
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"I Have Always Just Been Here."
anime: tokyo revengers
character: sano 'mikey' manjiro, mitsuya takashi
summary: mikey decides to take care of a few things. dinner, cleaning up, anything to keep the edge off y/n. he's trying. hard.
a/n: spoilers for ep 18 and onwards, manga spoilers, mention of suicide, death, masterlist here
taglist: @chaoticyuna @erishaitto @kenmas-xbox @chosoisbaby @lagrimasdeglitter
Emma was already home, on the couch while texting on her phone. No doubt, Draken.
With Y/N and Mikey out of the house, she had it to herself. At times, Mitsuya would drop by with his sisters and ask Emma to babysit for a few hours. She never minded, she loved those kids. But most of the time, Emma was alone. Quiet and motionless.
It was like this a lot, so she'd invite people over. Draken was busy sorting things out at home, he couldn't make it no matter how much Emma begged to see him. But when Hinata called asking if she was free to hang out, Emma jumped at the thought of having someone to talk to in person.
"Are Y/N and Mitsuya together?"
Emma looks up from her phone to see Hinata laying on her stomach on the other side of the couch. She was reading a magazine, the same brand that Emma had on her lap. The two were the same age and had hung out a lot, usually Y/N would join but lately she's been hung up with work and Toman business.
"Hm? Y/N and Mitsuya?" Emma hums out, tilting her head as she sets down her phone. She looked to the ceiling, thinking to herself about it. "Well, I don't actually know. They've gotten closer, though. They sure act like a couple."
Hinata tilts her head, sitting up and leaning against the couch. "I think they look good together. Mitsuya has always been really kind to Y/N and he takes care of her, especially after everything that happened." She states, tracing the patterns on the pages, "She deserves to be happy again. Mitsuya's tried his hardest to do that and he never fails to keep her on the right track."
Mitsuya was like her medicine, always helping her feel better. Y/N was the person he'd look to take care of during and after a fight. Always being there to make her feel worth something. Hell, he was the one who first offered to teach her how to fight.
"That's true..." Emma says quietly, furrowing her brows. She twirls her hair between her fingers. "But now that Mikey is back, they might get together again. They were their happiest then. It'll just take some time for Y/N to fully trust him again. I just... miss how they used to be."
Mikey was the first love. Childish, hopeful and blooming. The first person who taught her what romance really was. First kiss, first date, everything that kids their age would experience.
It was clear where these two stood.
Hinata was all for Mitsuya and Y/N.
Emma was rooting for Mikey and Y/N.
Mikey and Y/N walk into the house.
The two perk up from their spots on the couch, turning down the TV. "Where were you two?" Emma inquires, furrowing her brows. Hinata was just as confused.
Mikey retorts as Y/N waves her hands, "Picked up Y/N from the cemetery."
Hinata's lips part a little before she walks over to Y/N. She wraps her arms around the younger girl's shoulders. "Oh, I totally forgot that it was today, Y/N." She says, hugging her tightly, "Are you okay?"
Y/N closes her eyes for a second, leaning into her a bit. A sigh leaves her lips. "I'm good. Thank you, Hinata." She says, patting her back with one hand, "How're you?"
Hinata pulls away, holding onto Y/N's shoulders. She's a bit taken aback by the question, since there was no reason to have asked about her. "I, uh, I'm doing great. Are you hungry?" She inquires.
Y/N nods her head.
"Alright, well, I'll let you grab something." Hinata says.
The girls don't say anything more before Y/N walks into the kitchen.
"Was Chifuyu not with her?" Emma questions Mikey, who takes off his jacket and puts it in the closet.
He looks back to his sister, who stands there in concern. "When I got there, his bike was parked next to hers." He claims, running fingers through his hair, "But he was gone by the time Y/N and I were finished."
Emma knits her brows. "Hm. That's pretty weird." She says.
Y/N grabs a drink from the fridge, opening it up and sipping from the can before walking back into the living room. There, Emma is pulling Mikey down to her height to talk to him, looking serious. Hinata is joining in on the conversation, hunching into their huddle.
They haven't noticed Y/N yet.
"Is something wrong?" Y/N questions, standing in the doorway, hand in her pocket.
The girls jump away from Mikey, surprised by Y/N's sudden appearance.
"Nothing!" Emma claims, hands behind her back as she smiles innocently, "Um... are you up for hanging out right now? Me and Hinata are having a girls day! Come join us, it's been a while. We could grab something to eat and, maybe, watch a movie."
Hinata nods her head at that. She was ecstatic at the idea of spending the day with the two. It really has been some time since the three of them have spent time together. Really, there's always been an excuse.
The bags under her eyes and the lazy look. She usually put herself together before entering the house. But she didn't care. At least, that's what Emma figured.
Instead, she grins at the girls. In all honesty, she agreed that it had been a long time. She missed hanging out with them. Talking about boys, about how school is so annoying. Just talking as if none of it mattered.
Y/N missed having nothing that really mattered. She wouldn't be so sad when something meaningless went away.
But now, everything was important.
Learning to love is the emotion that breaks you and creates you at the exact same time.
She rubs the back of her neck, voice hoarse as she says, "Could we hang out another time? I'm sorry... Just wanna' take a nap." Y/N makes her way upstairs, running a hand up her arm.
Emma has been living with Y/N for the past four years and she has never once witnessed her take a nap after school or work. It was never called a 'nap'.
She'd just go to sleep and then get ready the next morning. She'd go to bed at around 10:45 PM and wake up at 7 the next day, either to go to school or to get everything done before Emma woke up.
She's changing now.
Emma looks over to her brother, who stands there with his gaze to Y/N.
Mikey claps his hands together, taking their attention away from Y/N. "What so you two want for dinner?" He questions, giving his most comfortable smile he can bring up, "Ask if Takemitchy and Kenny want to eat over."
"Oh? You're cooking?" Emma mumbles, tilting her head at that.
Her brother nods his head. A confident smile dawns on his lips. "Of course, I'm a master at this point." He claims.
But he sees that both Hinata and Emma are hung up on Y/N. "Yeah. Y/N's been stressed for the past few... years." He musters out, rubbing the back of his head, "She seemed to be frustrated, so I told her I'd pick up the slack."
Hinata smiles at that. "That's very nice of you, Mikey." She states, nodding her head.
"How about we cook some yakitori?" Emma suggests, getting a thumbs up from her brother, "Cool! Y/N bought the ingredients for it a few days ago. She's been meaning to make some, but hasn't had the time."
Mikey makes his way into the kitchen, grabbing the apron. Emma leaves Hinata in the living room to call Takemichi, standing beside him as he prepared the ingredients.
"Hey..." She mumbles to him, "Is Y/N alright? She looks like she's been crying."
"She was visiting Kazutora and Baji, I'm guessing she can't help but let it out when she goes every year." Mikey informs her, cutting some vegetables. His apron was tied around his waist and he kept his eyes on the food. "I don't think Y/N is in the right state of mind to be taking on all these tasks. She's... She should take a few days off."
Emma furrows her brows before frowning. She looked to her hands. Hasn't done anything...
"I'm sorry, I haven't been looking after her properly." She murmurs to her brother, who looks over to her, "Y/N's had it hard for all her life. I tried to lighten the mood and make her happy again, but she's... she's not the same."
Mikey pats the top of her head. She glances up to him, seeing the kind smile sent her way. "It's okay, Emma. Nobody is responsible for another's happiness unless they're the reason it's taken away." He reminds Emma.
She stares down at her shoes.
"I just want her to be okay again." Emma states.
"Me too." Mikey agrees.
He can't help but remember the times where the two of them were happy together.
Later, the food is ready and everyone is present. Takemichi sits beside Hinata, joking about something about school. The two attended the same school as Y/N did. But, Takemichi had to pretend he didn't know her for the sake of Toman.
He wasn't going to lie, he's kind of jealous how much time she got to spend with Hina.
Emma is trying to show Draken something on her phone, but he's fixing her food for her. Mikey sat on his own, quietly eating as the TV showed a movie they had decided on.
He had contemplated calling Chifuyu and Mitsuya for dinner. Might as well get the whole group together, right? But in the end, he had decided against it. Maybe Y/N wasn't ready to face them in such a state.
He didn't want to confess that he was nervous about leaving Mitsuya and Y/N alone.
Something is going on there, no doubt, but he wouldn't ask her that. Perhaps he'd hear something he didn't want to.
Y/N had been napping for about three hours now.
Well, crying for two and sleeping for one.
Every year was hard for her. Chifuyu and Y/N had this silent agreement to meet together at the cemetery, stemming from the First Year Anniversary of Kazutora and Baji's deaths.
Chifuyu had interrupted Y/N as she set down flowers on her brother's best friend's grave. They bid 'goodbye' quickly before she went to visit her brother.
When finished, the two had met each other outside the graves, driving to the Toman meeting that would be held. The both of them were crying hard as they drove. Silent but saying so much.
Chifuyu had noticed Mikey's bike this year, so he left Y/N and the ex-commander alone together.
She just couldn't believe that Mikey had witnessed that. The one day she was able to be herself and let it all out. He was there.
Y/N woke up at the sound of people laughing downstairs. Unusual, unless Emma was watching some videos in her room or was hanging out with Mitsuya's sisters.
Lifting herself up to sit up in her bed, she rubs her face of sleep and blinked around the room. Her room again.
She moves out from her covers, into her slippers and walking to the bathroom. Her reflection still looked tired, eyes puffy and face still half-asleep. Y/N pinched between her brows and splashed some water onto her face. After wiping it dry, she lifted her shirt and saw that her bandages were still clear. She slipped her finger between the material and her skin, pulling it down.
The strike was a slash of a knife, not like a plunge like Draken or Baji's. It ran all across her stomach, starting from the bottom of the left side of her ribcage. It ended on the right, on top of her hip bone. The middle of the cut was pretty deep, but luckily it was treated fine. Ever since Y/N had become leader, she'd made sure every captain and vice captain had the basis of first aid training.
Mitsuya and Draken were the first ones to get to her and treat her wounds.
This would definitely scar. It was scabbing at this point. Y/N rummaged through the cabinets, finding the patches she was looking for. As more coverage, she pushed the long sticky bandage over her cut. Bruises around her stomach made her flinch. But she pulled the wrapping back around it, holding her shirt in between her teeth.
"Y/N?" Mitsuya's voice called.
She froze, turning her head to the door. Wasn't he supposed to be with his sisters? She didn't call him over... Maybe it was Emma or Mikey. Nevertheless, Y/N waited for Mitsuya to walk through the door and flash that friendly smile he always shone towards her.
But nothing happens.
Usually, he'd walk in after a while. She wouldn't answer if she was busy, but if he didn't see her downstairs then she'd be in this room. It was like an unspoken accepted action between the two of them.
She makes a confused face, fixing her shirt and walking to the door. "Takashi? I'm just about to go eat dinner with everybody now." She claims, grabbing a jacket and throwing it over her shoulders.
She opens the door to greet Mitsuya, but nobody stands there. She looks up and down the hall.
In reality, Mitsuya is with his sisters, sitting in front of the TV and watching some show they enjoyed. He's spent the whole day with them after picking them up from school.
They had asked Mitsuya is they were going over to meet with Y/N, claiming that they missed her a lot.
Even whilst being Toman's leader, Y/N never let that show to the two sisters. She truly loved them, seeing Mana and Luna as her own family. So that meant that she'd keep them separate from her work life.
Mitsuya liked to watch her play with his sisters, letting them use her shirts and dresses to play 'runway'. Y/N's genuine smiles and laughs. Something he hoped would only continue.
He chuckles, patting both their heads, "You miss Y/N?" He watches as they both nod their head, a pleading pout. He smiles wider at that. "Yeah, I miss Y/N as well."
"Are you going to date her?" Luna asks, slurping the noodles from her bowl.
"What?" Mitsuya nearly chokes on his drink. He puts his glass down on the table in front of them, furrowing his brows in confusion. "You want me to date Y/N?"
Mana pulls on his sleeve, making the brother look over to her. "You always spend time with her if you're not with us." She reminds him, tilting her head. She had thought that was common knowledge between them all, even Emma and Draken. "And you are good friends. Would it be weird?"
He holds his chin between his fingers, heart beating faster. "Um... Well, you see—" Mitsuya is interrupted by Luna, who raises her brows at him.
She retorts, shaking her head with her hands on her hips, "And we never said we wanted you to date Y/N. I just asked if you would. You just want an excuse to say you would!" She points her chopsticks at him accusingly, making him widen his eyes.
"Hey, that's not true!" Mitsuya gasps, tensing his shoulders at the accusation.
"Then would you date Y/N? Based off your own feelings." Luna says, emphasising the 'own' a lot.
Mitsuya sits back in his spot, looking up to the ceiling. "I'm here for Y/N. No matter what, she'll always be my friend and I'll put her first before me." He states to his sisters, finally voicing his emotions, "I... I can't say I haven't thought about asking her out. All the closer I get to her, the more I want to be with her."
Luna and Mana stare at their brother.
"But I don't think she needs a boyfriend at this moment." He sighs, looking back to the TV. He turns the noodles in his bowl. "She just really needs time to herself. But I'll be there when she's ready. If she wants a relationship like that, then I'll gladly be the first one up."
"I think you should ask her out!" Luna calls out, bringing a hand up into the air like she knew the answer to a question in class, "Y/N is super nice to us and she'd be a great sister-in-law!"
Mitsuya feels his cheeks burn at the implication of marrying Y/N. He pinches Luna's cheek and huffs out, "Hey! We're not even dating yet, don't go talking like that! If you say anything to Y/N..."
Mana giggles, as Luna sticks her tongue out at him, "I like Y/N. She always looks for you when she comes home from school." Mitsuya glances over to her, suddenly curious. "When we tell her that you're cooking, she looks really relieved and happy. She has a really nice smile."
The brother grins at that, releasing Luna's cheek. Looking down at his food, he whispers out, "You think it's pretty too, huh?"
Y/N kind of wished he was there at the Sano-Hanemiya house. She didn't exactly settle with the idea of Mikey staying for long.
But with him offering to help her around the house, she felt relaxed. She was able to sleep more, which was much needed. Mitsuya already had his plate full with his sisters, so she couldn't ask him. He's done enough.
When she thanked Mikey before, she really meant it. She always means it when she says something like that.
Y/N walks downstairs, smelling food and hearing the chatter. Her eyes land on Mikey first. He was already looking her way. He sits up straighter, raising his brows as he goes to talk to her.
"Hey, Y/N. Wondering when you were gonna' wake up." Draken speaks up before Mikey, making everyone else look over.
Emma gasps, looking excited to see her, "Y/N! Guess what, Mikey cooked your favourite!"
Y/N raises her brows at that statement. How the Hell did he still remember that?
Takemichi speaks out, sitting beside Hinata as she waves happily at her, "Hi, Mikey called us over for dinner. I hope that's okay."
Y/N looks away to the kitchen, waving her hand. So... Mitsuya really wasn't here. She's imagining things. That's not a good sign... maybe. "It's fine." She tells them, "Thanks for cooking, Mikey."
He nods his head, unable to contain the small grin placing on his face. He's really doing something right.
"I'm just gonna' eat outside. I need some fresh air." Y/N hums to them, rubbing the side of her neck.
Draken, Takemichi and Hina were used to seeing the tired side of Y/N.
Draken, because he'd come over to this house regularly for Emma. They'd drive to the Hanemiya-Sano house after a fight or a long meeting and Draken would watch Y/N fall face-first into the couch. She becomes quieter and less responsive. He'd just give her a glass of water and leave her be, as ordered by Y/N herself.
Takemichi and Hina saw this at school, in private area. Y/N would turn the corner in an empty hallway and just sit there for a while, letting herself relax. Keeping up these two personas was tiresome but needed.
But this was another strange thing to the other girl who lived in this house.
Emma picked a movie he knew Y/N loved. Maybe a way to keep her from drawing further and further away from them. She wanted Y/N to watch with them, spend more time.
But she only fills her plate, grabs a drink and leaves to the front of the house, where a table with four chairs sat against the stone walls.
Y/N sets herself down. The night air brushed against her skin as she relaxed. To be honest, she doesn't know what to do. Y/N hasn't had time to herself in forever.
And somehow, she hasn't felt the affects of loneliness. Just... being alone. It was nice.
"Y/N." Someone calls out.
And this time, she isn't imagining it. She turns towards the voice to check if she was right, if there was someone there.
Ah. Scratch that.
It was nice.
She looks over her shoulder to see Mikey, holding his drink as he stood at the door. "What is it? Is something up?" She asks, looking a little annoyed by the fact her silence was interrupted.
Mikey tilts his head down, hand in his pocket. He states, "Y'know, whenever someone talks to you, you always ask if something is wrong." He watches the way Y/N looks down to the food and continues to eat. "You should take it easy."
"Alright Mikey, sit down. It looks like you're not gonna' leave me alone" She huffs out, sitting up straighter in her chair as she sips her drink. She leans against the table, closing her eyes as he hums in return.
Mikey does as he's told, sitting across from Y/N. "Are you over me?" He questions immediately.
Y/N stares at him from her spot, halting her movements from picking up her bowl.
Mikey has never been one to waste time when there's something important on his mind. The only time she could think of was when she confessed first. But other than that, he was straight-forward. Sometimes it was good, however...
"Why're you asking?" She musters out.
"Because I'm not over you. I still love you, Y/N." He confesses out to her, making Y/N bite the inside of her cheek, "I just want to know where the two of us are at."
Y/N leans back in her chair, suddenly annoyed by this. "Are you seriously taking about that now?" She sighs out, staring at her food with crossed arms, "I thought you were here to apologise to everyone and reconnect with Emma and Draken."
"I missed you." He replies, "And I was hoping you'd be here."
She turns her gaze to Mikey. He hasn't taken his eyes off of her. Y/N has never been so nervous from someone looking at her. She chuckles, "I have always just been here. Where else would I even go?"
Mikey inhales slowly. She then
A shiver runs up her spine. "Mikey, I don't think it's the right time for me to think about that."
Mikey looks down at his hands. His fingers are laced through each other under the table, together. "Should we talk about what you said?" He asks.
"I've said a lot of things." She turns to the side.
"Fair enough." Mikey hums out, tracing the rims of his can. He reaches out and places his drink on the table in front of him. Y/N raises her brow at the action. "I'll narrow it down for you."
She already knows, suddenly wanting to leave.
Did she really need to talk about this to Mikey?
But he calls out to her, "Talk to me about what you said to Kazutora earlier today."
Maybe she should've told him to leave her alone. But it was too late.
Something lights up inside her. Anger that basically says Mikey shouldn't be asking something like that to her. He had no right. And he should respect her privacy, even if it was something like this.
"That's really personal, Mikey." She reminds him, glaring his way as she crosses her arms tighter around her chest, "You weren't even meant to be there for that. Are you going to keep stalking me?"
Mikey shakes his head at that. "Y/N, this isn't something you push away." He says softly to her, expression all serious and leaving no room for arguments, "What you said back there is serious. I... I don't feel comfortable leaving you to have those thoughts."
"Are you playing therapist now?" She scowls out, feeling a little more embarrassed about the whole situation. She never wanted anyone to hear that about her. Maybe if she tried hard enough, Mikey would leave it alone. "You're not really in the right position to be telling me how to live."
Shit. He's most definitely said that to Y/N once.
They really have swapped their positions now.
But Mikey goes on, holding his hands up in defence, "I have no room to judge you here, Y/N. And I'm sure you have some pent up rage against me linked to that." Mikey watches as Y/N looks to him. Her gaze is unforgiving yet hesitant. "I think that letting it all out to me would help you."
"I've said all I needed to the day you dropped in on me." She reminded him, tapping a finger against her bicep as she waited for him to shut up.
"Surely you have more to say." He chuckles out, tilting his head. If Y/N was more like him now, then he knows that she'll be keeping things to herself more than telling them straight out unless needed to. "Don't you want to reprimand the guy responsible for ruining your life?"
Y/N stares at him for a moment, holding her breath for a few seconds.
Mikey smiles to himself, something mixed with regret and sadness. He was disturbed by himself.
He knew her too well.
"I don't think you're ready for it, though." Y/N warns him, feeling her chest coil up. She seriously didn't want to say.
Mikey raises a brow, as if it was a test for him. Something to say 'you can't handle this'. He says to her, "I'm not going to say anything. Just tell me the truth. About how you feel about me and us, especially about you."
Y/N blinks at his unwavering expression. She places her hands on her lap. "Alright. If I say anything too bad or personal, just..." She rubs her forehead and sighs out, "I'll regret it later, okay?"
Mikey holds his breath for a moment. He feels as if he's made a mistake, judging by the way Y/N's gaze changes.
From hesitant to irritated.
"My grief for Kazutora outweighs my love for you."
He should not have asked.
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BLACK&WHITE (part 3)
A/N: woo part 3!! things are getting exciting, drama is around the corner so i hope yall will enjoy this one! can't wait to read your thoughts and reactions!
PAIRING: long hair college!Harry X Mitch’s little sister!Reader
WORD COUNT: 4.2k
“I can’t believe you made me do this,” you grumble, as you fill up your profile with some of your personal details. You kind of swore you’d never have Tinder, it feels like a meat market, swiping left and right on guys while knowing they are doing the exact same thing, judging you from just a few photos and the words you wrote about yourself. That’s just not enough to sum up a person, but others don’t think the same way apparently, because basically every single guy from school is on this goddamned app according to Bonnie.
This whole thing started out from Bonnie telling you about her horrible date she met on Tinder. She went on and on about how the guy ate like a literal toddler, but luckily she just took it as a joke and you guys had a laugh. But then she asked about your dating life which is like nonexistent since you’re still longing after Harry, the only guy you know you shouldn’t have feelings for, but you just can’t help it.
You couldn’t tell Bonnie though, you still don’t feel like you’re ready to share this secret with her, but then you didn’t have anything to tell her in the department of boys and she wouldn’t stop bugging you until you downloaded Tinder. Now here you are, sitting at your desk as Bonnie is helping you to set your profile up, babbling about how you two could even go on a double date if you find two competent men on the app. Though you doubt that.
“Make that picture the first one, you look so hot in that!” she cheers pointing at the photo that was taken at the party after your graduation. You wore a nice lilac dress and sandals, you got a blowout that morning and it was still holding up well, the red lipstick you chose to wear was an exciting addition to the look. You really did feel pretty and you like the picture too.
“And now what?” you sigh when your profile is finished.
“Now you just go through the guys and swipe on them, see if you get any matches!” she smirks at you playfully.
Bonnie plops down to her bed and you turn around in your chair, hesitantly hovering your thumb over the screen before finally checking out the first profile that pops up.
The guilt that grips your chest is upsetting and not even only because of judging people from just their looks and a few emoji’s in their bio. No, it’s mostly because if you matched with any of these guys, exchanged messages and they were to ask you out on an actual date, you wouldn’t be able to say yes truthfully. Because there’s only one person you want right now, but he is kinda off limits even though you’ve been non-stop texting with him these past weeks.
“Oh!” you stop, squaring your shoulders.
“What is it? Did you find someone you know?” Bonnie jumps up in excitement.
“No, but… I think I have my first match?” Turning the phone you show her the screen with the ‘It’s a match!’ sign along with your and the guy’s profile picture.
“It has begun! You are officially on the market, my friend!” Bonnie sings, but you just shake your head laughing. You’re not entirely sure if you want to be on the market, well only if one particular tall, long haired, tattooed guy wants to take you off said market.
Thursday afternoon Harry spends hours in the library, working on a paper he knew would be a pain in the ass if he left it to the last minute, so he decided to just start it early and not screw himself over. Hunched over a pile of books and his laptop, he got a head start on the paper, though he still has a lot to work on the assignment when he decides to head back home.
School has started over a month ago and he has gotten into a sort of routine with his days, a routine that’s nothing like the one he used to drive. His first year of college he went to at least two parties a week, always had rendezvous’ with girls around campus that would end up in a quickie either in a toilet stall, in a random dorm room or his room.
He flinches thinking about the kind of person he was. Even though the girls came to him willingly, it was always empty and meaningless and for a while that didn’t bother him. But those times are over.
“Hey guys,” he murmurs his greetings walking into the house. Some of his mates are in the living room watching TV, someone is cooking in the kitchen and normally he would love to join them but he feels like he would rather just be by himself for now. However those plans are thrown out the window when he walks into his room and finds an unwanted guest.
Georgie Whitaker is lying on his bed as if she lived there, owning the place. Sprawled out, scrolling on her phone with a bored expression until Harry walks in. Smirking to herself she sits up, her dark red locks bouncing around her frame messily, but it’s the kind of mess that’s for sure intentional and she spent hours styling her hair in the morning probably.
“What are you doing here?” he growls, stepping to his desk, throwing his notebooks to the pile there, setting his laptop to the only clean space on the surface, the rest is covered in books, wrinkled papers and other school supplies. He might have been a party animal through his years in college, he never pushed it to the point where he would neglect his school work, it always came first and he still lives by that. Unlike some of his friends who go through college with one notebook and a pen, he puts time and effort into his education.
“I’ve missed you,” she coos, her legs dangling from the side of the bed, her skirt riding up dangerously high on her thighs and she knows that.
“That doesn’t mean you can just come into my room whenever you feel like it. Who let you in?”
Harry knows he’ll have a little chat with his house mates about who they are letting into his personal space when he is not home.
“You didn’t mind it when I showed up last year,” she purrs, ignoring Harry’s question. “Now you don’t even answer my texts.”
“That should be a red flag to you, Georgie,” he mumbles under his breath, still moving around the room, trying to ignore her presence, hoping that she would give up and leave.
Georgie used to be one of the few girls Harry spent more than one night with, but it was nothing romantic. They both needed relief and sometimes it was too much energy to find a girl, chat her up and bring her home and even then, it wouldn’t be granted that it would be good. Georgie and Harry hooked up for the first time last year on freshmen’s week, and they ended up repeating it a week later. From then, they had a silent agreement that if one called, the other would be there, they were using each other in a consensual accord.
The last time Harry saw her was a few weeks ago but he did everything he could to avoid her. Georgie started texting and calling, clearly desperate to get back to their old habits, but Harry lost interest a while ago, but it seems like the girl couldn’t take the hint.
“Thought you were just busy,” she shrugs. “I’ve heard that you haven’t been too welcoming with girls lately. What’s the matter, H?”
Standing from the bed she walks up behind Harry, placing a delicate hand on his back that slowly slides over his shoulder and up his neck but before she could reach his face he grabs her wrist and spins around, his eyes flaming at the girl in front of him.
“The matter is that you and every girl like you think that I owe you something. Like I live to be your toy. But I’m done with the little games. And I’m done with you.”
He is towering over Georgie, the expression on his face clearly a warning for the girl that he doesn’t wish to be played with now. The way his eyebrows knit together, the fire in his eyes and how he clenches his jaw, he appears powerful and almost scary. If only they were in a different setting and in less clothes, Georgie would almost find it exciting, but not now.
She yanks her hand out of his grip and takes a step back. She doesn’t like to be treated like this, she doesn’t like it when things don’t go her way, but there’s nothing she can do.
“You’ll be coming back to me, Styles. Begging and on your knees,” she hisses, but her warning does nothing to Harry.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie,” he grunts, dismissing the hurt girl who rushes out of his room like it was on fire. The faster the better, Harry thinks.
Harry lets out a long breath pinching his nose, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. To be honest, he doesn’t want to deal with anything, except… except you. Lately you’ve been the only person Harry could think about even in his worse moments, he’s been checking his phone obsessively to see if he had new texts from you and there were evenings when he was lying in bed and couldn’t stop thinking about wanting to call you and hear your voice.
He reaches for his phone with the intention of texting you, just knowing what you’re doing would easily take his mind off of everything, then he hears Mitch’s voice coming from the hallway and it stops him. He’s been the only thing that’s been keeping Harry away from you, the guilt he feels every time they run into each other and Harry feels terrible because he’s been kind of avoiding Mitch lately. They used to study together, hang out on campus, go to see the movies Sarah didn’t want to watch with Mitch, binge watching series on Netflix… now all Harry does is making up excuses why he can’t do anything when in reality he is just trying to ease his own guilt for talking to you when Mitch told him to stay away from you.
He drops the phone to the bed and decides to clear his head in another way. Changing into sports clothes and putting on his favorite running shoes, he grabs his headphones and goes for a run.
It’s been quite some time he went for his usual routine, right around campus, running a few laps in the sports center and then heading home. He used to do this at least twice a week, last year, but this semester has been just way too busy for him to take the time.
Focusing on his breathing and keeping his pace steady he finally reaches the campus, only a couple of students lingering around since it’s getting late. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand as he heads to the sports center. The running track circles around the football field, there’s no practice today, though he spots another runner and when he recognizes the familiar figure… he stops in his tracks.
He came to this run to clear his head without bothering you, doing the right thing, yet, he is now staring at you in your tight yoga pants and hoodie, your hair in a bun high on your head. You’re wearing a wireless headset and suddenly Harry just needs to know what music you listen to while running.
Harry needs to take a deep breath as his eyes linger on your curves, the way your thighs and calves flex with every move, your heaving chest from the rapid pace you’re breathing and oh God… You surely are wearing a sports bra, but he can still see your breasts jumping up and down slightly and it’s definitely doing things to him.
Still breathing hard he walks closer, wondering how long it will take you to notice him. Leaning against a pole he folds his arms on his chest, the tip of his tongue running along his lips as you finally turn and notice him, stopping abruptly.
“Hey!” you call out, letting the headphone hang around your neck as you walk over to him.
“Didn’t know you like running,” Harry smirks down at you cheekily.
“Well, I gotta do something to keep myself going,” you chuckle lightly, still trying to catch your breath. “But I can see I’m not the only one.”
“Needed to air my head out, but I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”
“Everything alright?” you ask concerned, taking in his figure, looking for signs that tell you why he was so keen on getting fresh air.
“Yeah, just… sometimes it’s hard to leave things in the past,” he words vaguely.
You want to ask him more, wanting to hear details, but he would have phrased it clearer if he wanted to share more. But it’s still obvious that he is keen on forgetting about something and you’re more than happy to help him.
“I know we both came out for a run, but… I’m kind of starving. Do you want to grab something to eat?”
Harry knows he should say no. He should tell you he wants to finish his run and then go home, but he can’t. He is itching to be with you, to listen to whatever you have to say. So pushing the guilt down he nods at last.
The pizza place at the edge of the campus is one of the most popular places during the day and since it’s open until two in the morning, students like to stop for a late night slice on their way home from a party as well. The time you and Harry wander in is kind of a dead time sloth, so there’s plenty of empty tables and no trace of the line that usually queues long to the cash register.
You both get your slices and you grab a bottle of garlic oil from one of the tables before sitting at the one at the window.
“So how is the friend-making going?” he hums, taking the first bite of his slice.
“Oh, it’s going well! I’ve met a few friends of Bonnie and they invited me out to the movies with them,” you beam happily as you sprinkle some of the garlic oil on your slice and bite into it.
“That’s great! See, I knew you’d be alright.”
“But it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t help,” you smile at him thankfully.
“How are things between Ruth and Erik?”
“Oh, they went on a date, but agreed that it’s better if they just stay friends, so… yeah.”
“And how about you?”
“Me?” you ask a bit confused what he means.
“Yeah, are you planning to go on dates?”
Harry beats him up for even asking right away. What was he thinking? Bringing up your dating life when he should be keeping his distance from you? There’s gotta be something wrong with his head for sure.
You’re surprised by the question, and you can’t deny that it swirled quite a few thoughts about why he might have asked, but you don’t shy away from answering.
“Haven’t been asked out on one for about two years,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.
“When was the last time?”
“Junior year, I dated this guy for a few months, he was a senior. But don’t tell Mitch, as far as he knows I haven’t had a boyfriend,” you scoff.
Because of your brother’s overprotectiveness, you kept everything and anything a secret you knew Mitch wouldn’t approve of and boyfriends were on the top of the list for sure. You’ve had two so far, one of them even met Mitch but you just never told him you were dating the guy.
“You didn’t tell Mitch?” Harry’s eyes widen in amusement as he stares at you over the table.
“How could I?” you laugh covering your mouth. “He was watching me like a hawk and even wanted to have a talk with every new friend I made. A boyfriend would have never survived him.”
“He was really that annoying?” Harry cackles.
“Yes! Do you want to know the worst of it all?”
“You know I do,” he smirks, chewing lazily.
“He even gave me the sex talk.”
Harry almost chokes on his slice and you can’t hold your laughter back as you watch him trying to regain his composure. It was truly in the top three most awkward moments in your life, having your brother talk to you about sex, but it doesn’t feel that bad right now, using it to make Harry laugh.
“He just sat down and talked about the birds and bees?”
“No, he was very straight forward, didn’t use any metaphors,” you chuckle. “Though I didn’t let him finish, ended our suffering when he started talking about STDs.”
“Oh God, I would die to hear this conversation!” he laughs, his head falling back.
“Believe me, I wanted to die right then and there,” you mumble into your pizza slice.
“So when did you have your first boyfriend?”
“Um, when you guys left for college. Dated this guy for a few months, but it wasn’t quite the match.”
“As soon as Mitch was out of the house, you jumped right into dating?” he chuckles shaking his head.
“I admit I felt a little more… free once he was off to college,” you grin at him.
“So then what about now? Do you like someone?” he asks, pretending to be unbothered when he is almost holding his breath, waiting for your answer. If you say that you actually do have a crush on some idiot from school Harry is not sure he can control his emotions.
“Uh, no. Not really. Haven’t had time to meet someone I might be interested in,” you answer clearing your throat to cover up your nervousness.
There’s a short silence where you both get to the end of your slice. Now that Harry has asked you about your dating life, you’re curious to find out more about his. Well, you know a few things about that already from the gossips and his reputation, but you’d prefer to hear the truth from Harry.
“So what about you?” you finally ask, watching him intently to see how he reacts to the question. You can tell he doesn’t feel too comfortable, but he answers anyway.
“Haven’t been on a date in a long time,” he admits, but you both know what this means. Just because he hasn’t been dating it doesn’t mean he’s been sitting around at home, playing UNO with his friends.
“I’ve heard a few things. About you.”
“Not surprised,” he chuckles bitterly, leaving the crust of his slice on the plate as he leans back and wipes his hands with a paper towel. “What do they say?”
“Just that you’re a ladies’ favorite,” you hum, but it’s not quite how you’ve heard others word it. The worst was when you overheard a girl call him a manwhore. You almost walked up and punched her in the face for talking like that about someone she probably doesn’t know and for what? Most likely because she didn’t get to have her way with him, Harry must have rejected her and now she is just jealous.
“I admit I’ve had my fair share of hookups,” he nods timidly. “But… I’m trying to change. It’s not what I want anymore.”
Harry’s eyes jump up to meet yours, as if he is waiting for a certain kind of reaction, something he fears to see, but is surprised when it doesn’t happen. Instead, you just smile back at him warmly, because all you have for him is hope and support because you believe in him, unlike many others around him.
“I think that’s good. That you want to change your old habits,” you nod reaching for a paper towel to clean your fingers from the garlic oil.
“Yeah? You think I can do that?”
“Of course,” you nod confidently.
“I think then you’re the only one to believe it,” Harry comments bitterly. Inspecting him you see the hurt in his eyes even though he is not looking at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the table in front of him. “I feel like everyone around me keeps thinking of the person I used to be and no matter what I do or say I’ll always be just my mistakes and bad habits.”
“Well, I don’t think that anyone is just black and white in the sense of being strictly good or bad. It’s never just this or that, there’s a spectrum and you can always work on yourself to move to a direction. In the past, you weren’t clearly just bad, it’s always a mixture, you did good things too and you’ll make mistakes in the past no matter how much you change. And if even after all the work you put into yourself someone doesn’t see the change in you or tries to make you believe you’re just your mistakes, you don’t need that person in your life.”
Harry stares back at you in awe, as if an angel is sitting right in front of him and he is kind of convinced that you really are one. But what he did to earn your presence in his life, he has no idea about that. What he knows is that right in this moment he can’t imagine his life without you.
Even though the pizza is long gone, you stay and talk, just whatever comes to your mind, both of you distancing yourselves from whatever you were trying to escape today. Getting lost in the conversation you barely even notice that the Sun has completely gone down and you’ve been sitting around for an hour at your table. Bonnie’s text snaps you out of your little bubble, asking if you’ve been murdered in the sports center or you’re just training for the marathon.
“I should head back to the dorm, I have some studying to do,” you sigh, though you want nothing else than to just stay with Harry.
“I’ll walk you back,” he nods, both of you standing from the seats you’ve been occupying for way longer than customers usually do.
“Oh, no need, I can just—“
“Y/N, I’m not letting you walk back to your dorm in the dark in those clothes,” he cuts you off, but you raise your eyebrows at his words, looking down at your outfit.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing it’s just… those pants are really… tight,” he breathes out, obviously avoiding to look into your eyes, but you catch him checking out your legs as you step away from the table.
“Well, they better be, it’s the only way body shaping pants can keep everything in place,” you scoff, the two of you heading out of the place.
“Body shaping? Why the hell would you need that?” he grimaces, holding the door open for you. Stepping out you definitely notice that it’s chillier than when you left for your run, but it’s still not that bad, though a nice hot shower will feel amazing when you get back to the dormitory.
“To shape my body, obviously,” you point out.
“You don’t need these, Y/N,” he shakes his head, pinching the fabric on the side of your thigh, along with some of your skin which makes you jump and giggle. “You look amazing either way.”
Wait, what was that? Did he just compliment you? Harry Styles just said that you look amazing with and without body shaping pants? This eerily feels like those daydreams you used to have about him in middle school, though those dreams ended a little more PG rated than how you’d want it now.
“Watch out, Harry. If you keep up with the compliments I might get the wrong idea,” you warn him as completely just a joke, though Harry’s alarm goes off.
He shouldn’t be complimenting you and he definitely shouldn’t be harboring thoughts like the one he has seeing you in those tight pants, but he just simply can’t stop himself. How could he when you hypnotize him with everything you do? At this point he’s convinced you have a spell on him, one that he has no chance of breaking, not that he wants. For the first time in so long he truly feels accepted and happy, in a place where he can be himself without judgment and you created that place for him. He wants to be selfish a little longer and keep this feeling close to his chest.
“There’s no wrong idea,” he whispers under his breath, thinking that you didn’t catch it, but you did. You very much did.
The walk back to your dorm is a bit quieter, you’re hung up on Harry’s comment and Harry is way too deep in his thoughts about you. Walking side by side, you feel like something is slowly shifting between the two of you into a whole new and unknown territory you haven’t touched on when it comes to Harry.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you smile up at him reaching the entrance of your dorm. You turn to face him as he stares up at the building, stuffing his hands into his pockets, a hint of nervousness showing in his features.
“It’s the least,” he smiles back, finally looking at you. Just as you open your mouth to say goodbye, a familiar sound rings from your phone, the notification to an app you’ve been learning your way around with. Not even thinking about the closeness of Harry you pull it out of your pocket and make the mistake of tapping on it, the Tinder logo immediately appearing on your screen as the app loads.
“You’re on Tinder?” Harry asks with wide eyes and your head snaps up to see him staring down at your phone.
“Oh, just… Bonnie made me try it,” you shrug awkwardly as the screen finally loads and Harry spots all the matches you have and a bunch of unread messages.
He can barely control the jealousy that bubbles in his chest. All these men not only find you hot but you also liked their profile enough to swipe right. Who are they? Are you gonna meet them? Are you talking to any of them? Do you like them? God, Harry just wants to snatch your phone out of your grasp to delete every match you’ve made so far and block the app forever. The thought of you with another man outrages and scares him. It can’t happen, no one can lay a finger on you, only him…
“So, um… so you want to date again?” he asks, trying his best to mask his disappointment.
“I-I mean I’m not trying to grow old alone,” you chuckle awkwardly and locking the screen you slip the phone back into your pocket. “I’m meeting with a guy tomorrow for coffee.”
At the mentioning of an already fixed date Harry starts fighting himself, he is so close to tell you that you shouldn’t go out with anyone else but him, that he wants you and can’t stop thinking about you… but he remains silent. Pressing his lips together into a thin line he just nods, taking a step backwards.
“Well, see you around, Y/N,” he sighs and you sense the change in him but it’s also clear he is trying to leave as fast as possible so you don’t keep him up though you wish he did.
“Bye, Harry,” you smile at him before walking up the stairs and getting inside the building.
Harry runs all the way back to the frat house, but not because he wanted to finish his workout, more because he was channeling his frustration through it and he got a lot of that.
No one comments on how long he was away when he gets home. He is dreading after a long shower hoping to clear his head since his run just complicated his thoughts even more, but as he is walking towards his room he finds himself stopping at another one. He knocks gently and waits for it to open as he hears shuffling inside.
“Hey man, what’s up?” Erik smiles at him, the sound of some kind of video game coming from behind him in the room as he steps out into the hallway.
“Can I ask you to do something?” Harry lowers his voice and digging into his pocket he pulls out twenty dollars knowing it will be more than enough to get him to do anything. Erik takes the dollar bills and nods as he folds them and shows them into his pocket.
“I need you to have a chat with Mitch and just casually drop that you heard from Ruth that his sister is going on a date with a guy from Tinder tomorrow.”
He ignores the alarm in the back of his head though he is definitely not proud of ruining your date using your brother, but the thought of you with someone else is just unbearable. He keeps telling himself that he is doing this for your own sake, though he knows it’s just a terrible excuse for his jealousy.
Erik gives him a puzzled look, but doesn’t question his intentions, just nods and Harry is thankful he is not the nosy type to ask around.
“Thanks, man,” Harry hums, patting his shoulder before finally heading into his own room. Just as he is closing the door he hears Erik knock on Mitch’s door, inviting him over to play with him and probably to drop the bomb Harry just handed over to him.
Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!
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Hi I have an idea about story : Chris Evans x Plus Size Reader. The Reader is Plus Size due to medical problems but she is trying hard to loose weight for him. Chris hasn't noticed that but then he feels bad about it. Lots of fluff :)
a/n: hi!! this idea seems very nice, it’s soft, emotional and sensitive. i’ll try my best to write something good. although i don’t really write RPF so i’ll change it to a Steve rogers story, hope you don’t mind. thank you 💙 for submitting this idea.
Steve Rogers x Plus size Reader
warning: fluff, angst, insecure reader, mentions of medical problems, rude and mean people, indirect comments about reader’s looks, Steve being adorable and comforting reader.
It’s not easy being the girlfriend of none other than America’s golden boy, Steve Rogers. The man whose beauty is well known. Steve has a beautiful body, and more importantly a beautiful heart. It’s not actually difficult being his girlfriend when it’s just the two of them, (y/n) is extremely comfortable around him and he always makes sure to make her feel beautiful. The problem occurs when they are out in public and (y/n) faces different stares which mostly mean the same - “why her?”.
When her insecurities get the best of her, she herself too asks this question, ‘why me?’. she decides to brush off that thought and go out to get some coffee. (y/n) stands in the line to order her coffee when she contemplates whether to get a muffin or not. “hi there” someone gently taps her shoulder and she turns back to be met with a woman. wow, she is beautiful. “you are Captain America’s girlfriend right?” (y/n) nods and smiles “wow he really does have a golden heart.” (y/n) looks confused what does this statement mean? “oh no, please don’t mind, i mean it seems looks aren’t that important to him, which is a good thing.” the woman says while looking her up and down, in a condescending tone. she basically insulted (y/n) in a sweet way. “yeah you’re right, my boyfriend is the best” (y/n) says and the woman gives her a fake smile. after that she orders her coffee and decided it’s probably best to avoid the muffin.
(y/n) comes back home and tries to pretend she is fine, that she is not affected by that woman’s words. that she doesn’t care what others think as long as steve loves her, as long as Steve finds her kind, nice and beautiful. Steve finds her beautiful right? he says so himself. (y/n) gradually stands in front of a mirror to observe herself. all the flaws stare right back at her. Steve can get anyone but he chose her. She doesn’t even realise she is crying when she notices her tears in the reflection.
“honey, i am home” Steve’s voice brought (y/n) out of her vicious thoughts and she wipes her tears quickly. Steve wraps her in warm hug and for a moment she really forgets everything else. “hi, how was your day?” he asks after giving her a kiss. she smiles and says it was good. “good. hey i brought pizza for us, i am hungry let’s eat shall we?” he asks while getting the pizza box from the table. “i-i’m not that hungry now, maybe i could eat later?” Steve smiles and gives her a thumbs up while already taking a slice out and eating it. (y/n) chuckles at that, this man maybe Captain America for the rest of the world but for her he is Stevie, her adorable Stevie.
She skips dinner that day, didn’t feel like eating anything, when steve asked she said she had a heavy lunch, which she didn’t. The next day she decides that she will try to lose weight, she will try to have a better body, the one that won’t be ridiculed, the one worthy of being with Steve Rogers. So for about a month she tries to go on a strict diet and heavy exercise. Steve was comparatively busy with work that month so he doesn’t notice how (y/n) doesn’t eat much, or avoid eating sweets, how she looks tired. Not that steve is a bad and oblivious boyfriend, it’s (y/n) who is good at not letting him realise that she is struggling and trying her best to lose weight.
(Y/n) has medical problems which make it difficult for her to lose weight. so when she measures her weight after a month, there is hardly any difference. All of a sudden she breaks down into tears. she sobs. to make things worse for her Steve finds her crying. No she doesn’t want him to see her like that. “baby, baby what’s wrong?” he hugs her and she keeps on crying. “talk to me sweetheart, what’s wrong? (y/n) what happened my love?”
“i am sorry steve.” Steve doesn’t understand what’s going on, why is she sorry. “i am sorry, i tried but i failed” Steve holds her face with his hands. “what are you talking about?” she looks at him with tears eyes “i- i tried to lose weight, i really did but my medical problems, they make it difficult, i couldn’t lose much, i really tried, i wanted to look good for you. i ate healthy, i exercised as much as i could but it didn’t work, i am sorry.” (y/n) says in between sobs while steve holds her in his arms. It is painful to think what must have went through her mind, Steve is sad, and angry at himself that he didn’t notice what has been going on with her, that she was so sad, that she was struggling.
“Honey” steve coos and rubs her back “i am the one who is sorry, i am so sorry my love that i didn’t see you were struggling. you’re my best girl, and to see you so sad makes my heart ache.” she hugs him and hides her face in the crook of his neck “(y/n) i love you very much, i love your heart, your mind, your body, your personality, everything about you. I don’t know why you thought you need to change yourself because you don’t. at least not for me, because i love you the way you are, and i must say that you’re fantastic, amazing and so sexy. if someone says otherwise then it’s their problem not yours. Baby you have no idea how lucky i consider myself that i get to be with you, that i get to spend my life with you. Waking up next to you every morning makes me so happy. I love you so much (y/n)”
She smiles a little. “I love you Stevie, so much. I try to not to pay attention to what others say but you know sometimes it’s not so easy. sometimes my insecurities get the best of me.” Steve kisses her forehead. “i know honey. i understand but next time if something is bugging you, please try to talk to me okay? i am always here for you, you know that. i love you” she holds his neck to pull him close and kisses his lips softly, steve holds her waist to keep her close and smiles against her lips. “i know. i love you stevie, i always wanna make you happy, wanna make you smile, wanna make you laugh.” he smirks a little and starts tickling her. she laughs and pushes him “hey!!stop it” she laughs more. her laughter is one the best sounds Steve has ever heard. Steve joins her laughter. “see i wanna make you laugh too, baby” he says tickling her but then decides to stop. she pouts a little but when she sees his smiling face, when she sees the love in his eyes all over again, (y/n) plants kisses all over his face and finally on his lips. steve says, “you’re it for me, you know?” they touch their foreheads together. “you’re it for me too.”
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hi there, hope you're having a nice day! i'm here to request "you know that i love you, right?" and number 21# with megumi if you're comfortable, please. i wasn't sure if i could combine the prompts so if it's too much, then only the quote is fine. thank you! ♡♡
yes yes !! hope you enjoy
no one has to know / megumi fushiguro x f!reader / modern au
warnings: nothing :)
word count: 980
requests open ≧◠‿◠≦
“He just seems so closed off,” a girl whispered, completely oblivious to your presence on the next aisle over, “like, don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive, I just have a hard time seeing him as a boyfriend.”
“I know right,” another girl said, “I wouldn’t say no, but he seems really cold.”
It wasn’t like you weren’t used to it, hearing others mutter about how on earth Megumi Fushiguro ended up with cute, sweet you. It may have been true, that Megumi was closed off and a bit of an ass to everyone that wasn’t you, but he had a heart of gold under his façade. His outward appearance and cold demeanor had others assuming he was a bad boyfriend, or just not good enough for you.
But they couldn’t have been more wrong about him.
When it was girls gossiping, however, the topics were rather different. It was usually about how they’d still date him even if he is an asshole, and what on earth he was doing with someone who was the polar opposite. But you and Megumi complimented one another, you were soft and kind whereas he was hard to please and standoffish. You’d taught him a lot, about how to approach other people, and since he’d met you he had actually made some friends.
“I mean, he’s so hot,” another voice said, “even if he is a dick. What makes her so special, anyway?”
The library was not a place for confrontation, but you weren’t listening to another moment of this. You slammed the book you were reading back in place, and whirled around the end of the aisle to see them, their eyes widening once they noticed it was you.
“Oh, hey, Y/N,” one of them said, cheeks a red-hot crimson colour, “how’s it going?”
“Oh, you know,” you said sarcastically, crossing your arms, “just thought I’d check some books out and listen to irrelevant comments about my relationship.”
The other two girls looked between each other, as the clear ring leader huffed.
“It’s just the truth.”
“Wrong,” you said, a little louder this time, “you don’t know the first thing about Megumi, or me, or our relationship. You’re just assuming, like everyone else does, and I’m sick of overhearing pointless conversations about my life and my boyfriend. So, I suggest finding a hobby, because gossiping about a boy you’ll never get whilst hiding in the library is little sad, don’t you think?”
Before they could counteract something, you flashed the fakest smile you’d ever pulled and spun on your heel, ponytail swishing at the action. You could hear them muttering as you left, but you were past caring. They had no right, just as no one else did, and if you could stick up for your precious Megumi, then you would. What outsiders perceived him as was not the boy you knew, when you’re alone in his dorm room, wrapped up in his bed sheets as he’s kissing your face, your neck, your collarbones, whispering how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how selfless he was, buying you little gifts just because and putting flowers in your dorm room for when you got back. He was perfect, and it didn’t matter that no one else knew.
That’s just how you both liked it.
Your endearing thoughts about him were interrupted with the sound of a familiar, deep drawl. Anyone else would’ve thought his tone indicated that he didn’t like you, but the sound had butterflies erupting in your stomach, because it was him. You spun around to see his brooding expression and hands in his pockets, casually making his way over to you to press a quick peck to your cheek.
“Hey baby,” he said quietly, his guard down slightly as the corridor was empty, “how’s my girl?”
“She’s okay,” you say, pressing yourself against him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands coming to rest at your hips, “I’ve missed you today.”
He chuckled, such a deep and rich sound, and it had your stomach doing flips. Those girls had one thing right, he was damn attractive.
“Missed you too,” he smiled a little, his hands gently rubbing your sides, “are you free now? Lemme buy you some food.”
A smile stretched across your face, his eyes lighting up at the sight of it, and without thinking, you pulled him in to press a kiss to his lips. He stiffened at first, being in a public place and all, but soon relaxed when your fingers met his hair. You teased him a little, swiping your tongue against his for a mere second before taking it away. He made a small noise of disappointment, tilting his head to taste more of you, feel more of you, and pressing you impossibly close to him.
“What was that for?” he breathed against your mouth, a genuine smile curling at his soft lips.
“I love you,” you whispered in the emptiness of the corridor, his face softening at the confession he’ll never get tired of hearing, “you know I love you, right?”
He didn’t respond for a moment, tucking some hair behind your ear and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“’Course I do,” he said, his voice so soft for you, “you’re my girl, and I love you too.”
With a ridiculously wide grin, you pulled him closer to you, hugging him so tightly. His strong arms wrapped around you, the warmth of him seeping through and warming up every bone in your body, as he pressed a kiss to your neck and rubbed his hands up and down your back. You could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day, against him, warm, safe, and happy. No one knew Megumi Fushiguro like you did.
And you never wanted them to.
© inu-mxki 2021
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So sometimes when I read time-travel fics about Ben Kenobi, I just get really hyped up with mental images of him, after a few years, getting a message just-arrived time-travel Ahsoka (default is Systems' Scourge, but a late-Rebels Fulcrum is also good so long as she can bring Rex, maybe Wolffe and Ezra).
And just. Like. That first meeting is Ahsoka reaching out with a message to the council for Ben (after catching wind of him through bounty rumors or on an Official Jedi Business Press Release):
Rex wants to know why you're palling around with the Prime.
The Girl Who Died at Mortis'
which is enough Words Of Import that it's Obviously Her without explaining a goddamn thing, and Ben just like. Completely stalls out and has a breakdown on the spot.
Mini-Obi, calling the number she left on the message, in front of the entire council: Hi this is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, who are you and why are you breaking my Uncle Ben? He's just standing there. You broke him.
Ahsoka: Hi, Obi-Wan, this is General Ashla Torrent of the 501st, aaaaaaaaaaaand let's call it payback for the Hardeen Incident.
Ben, snapping out of it at the sound of her voice: I THOUGHT YOU DIED IN THE PURGE.
Ahsoka: WELL I THOUGHT YOU DIED IN THE PURGE TOO, SIR.
Ben: I WENT TO MANDALORE. I VISITED YOUR GRAVE.
Ahsoka: AND I ATTENDED YOUR FUNERAL AFTER YOU FAKED YOUR DEATH IN MY ARMS WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN, WE'LL CALL IT EVEN.
Obi-Wan: Hold on what the fuck even are you two to each other this is NOT where I thought this was going
"So this Purge happened on... Mortis?"
"No, I was on Mandalore when Order 66 went out. Mortis was like two years earlier and I actually did die but it was only for a few minutes so it doesn't count. I was fifteen so it was like ten years ago for me, it's fine."
Everyone assumes she means like a "My heart stopped long enough for a clinical death" sort of thing and doesn't pursue it.
Someone: She’s got lightsabers. Is she a Jedi
Ben: Good question. Are you a Jedi?
Ben: I guess she’s not a Jedi.
"Are those soldiers Mandalorian?"
"Debatable! Let's go with no."
"They're wearing armor and refuse to de-helmet."
"Trust me, you don't want them to."
Also in this context, everyone just kinda goes [shrug emoji] and says Ahsoka was Ben's Second Padawan whose training was cut short because Reasons (and now she's not a Jedi anymore), because most people don't want to sit through the full story of which padawan is whose and why the age differences were stupid when he was handling half her training anyway.
The main joke is actually that she's Ben's Padawan One Point Five. Only people who sit through the explanation (which isn't actually that long) get to understand it.
Ahsoka just casually joking about her experiences as a war padawan and everyone's like Oh So That's Why Ben Drives His Students So Hard.
He Had To Keep This One Alive.
Ahsoka, brightly: My first day with my master, I almost died four times and that was considered normal.
Ben, thinking about Bandomeer: I mean, same.
Ahsoka: And so did my official master!
Ben: Well, he spread it out over a week, but he was also nine, so...
(They're technically lying but only because in all three cases, their near-death experiences occurred in the day/days leading up to their Master accepting them.)
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