#once again i jest but now i have to actually talk about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelseeebe · 1 month

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we can’t be friends.

a little fake dating situation in which eddie must pretend to be your boyfriend to keep up pretences, but then feelings start to become hazy and now he’s not sure if you could ever be just friends again.

a/n: i’m reading this back and actually not liking it as much as i first did hahahaah but i hope you enjoy!! i just wanted to reiterate my hate for the duffers and the fact that they didn’t give him any other t-shirt other than that dang hellfire one>:(

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of bad parent/s. modern au i guess but it’s hardly mentioned. no use of y/n!

eddie wasn’t expecting to walk in to you so stressed.

it was the usual thursday movie night but you’d answered the door with a green complexion and the look of a deer in headlights.

“what’s wrong?” he perplexes, shutting the door behind him as you continue to pace the living room floor.

you sigh, blinking at him as you stop for a few seconds. you’re contemplating something, sizing him up with your eyes narrowed. it makes him a little unsettled if he’s honest.

“next week, are you free?”

“what?” wondering what the hell that had to do with your nervous exterior.

“are you free?” you press.

“uh.. probably, why?” not an inch of sense in your words.

“you wanna come on vacation with me? i mean- it’s not so much a vacation but a family reunion, but can you come?” chewing on your fingernail.

“when? what? why?” rattling through all of his questions all at once.

you sigh again, frustrated with his lack of understanding, “family reunion, i can’t do it alone eds..” your hands cycle around the air, “josh was supposed to come with me but obviously.. that’s not happening so can you come?”

eddie’s face finally un-scrunches. it all made sense now.

you’d spoken enough about your crazy parents and subsequently just why you’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them to understand why you didn’t want to go on your own.

he’d also been elated when you’d told him that you and josh had broken up. eddie had never liked him, in fact, if were given the chance, he thinks he’d punch him square in the face.

that hadn’t really helped you of course, so he kept it mostly to himself. but if the opportunity were ever to arise, he’d do it. no shame.

“oh, shit, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place?” he laughs, rolling in his eyes in jest as he collapses on the couch.

“i’ve asked everyone.. and i mean, everyone and they couldn’t, i was scared!” your body relaxes, coming to join him on the couch.

“oh thanks,” eddie scoffs, “so i was the last resort?”

“no,” you prod him in the side, “i didn’t think you’d wanna come, that’s all.”

“yeah right,” chuckling as you hand him a beer, “i don’t mind, i’ll suffer for you,” popping the lid off and taking a swig.

“thank you,” you exhale, leaning back against the couch, “really. it means a lot.”

“so what are we doing? skiing? sightseeing?” eddie probes, making himself comfortable.

you scoff, “oh no, it’s at my aunt’s beach house in illinois.. it’s big enough for you to have your own room and shit, you’ll just have to pretend to like craft beer and talk baseball with my dad.”

eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, groaning loudly, “baseball? man, i dunno if i can make it anymore.”

you throw him the dirtiest glare, “you’re not funny.”

despite your words, he falls into a fit of laughter truly not making your scowl any lesser. he knows you appreciate him deep down, given the fact that you hadn’t hit him yet.

the drive across indiana isn’t too bad, eddie only wishes he hadn’t let you control the music for the entirety of the journey.

“just..” you exhale, glancing warily over at him from the passenger seat, “just be normal, okay? don’t let them piss you off,” nodding with every word.

“you don’t trust me?” he grins, earning a deathly glare. “i won’t piss them off.. don’t worry,” turning his sarcastic mocking into kindness.

your eyes squeeze shut before you slide out of the door, doubting your choice to bring eddie along.

your parents open the door with a wide smile and their arms extended, pulling you in before looking over at eddie, obviously slightly taken aback with the man at their door.

he offers his hand out, “i’m eddie, nice to meet you sir,” feeling very judged and not at all surprised, not with all your horror stories.

your dad takes his hand, gripping on tight as he eyes him up and down, “so this is the boyfriend,” humming quietly, “it’s good to finally meet you, son.”

eddie freezes, eyes sliding from your parents to you to find you in the exact same position.

boyfriend?

“uh..” you fumble, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish, “yes! yes.. this is him,” chuckling nervously.

oh shit.

his week of rest and relaxation was about to become a week of performing and lies.

you watch eddie anxiously, your eyes speaking a thousand words. praying he doesn’t mess up, doesn’t embarrass you in front of them.

“yeah.. yeah, that’s me,” he nods hurriedly, going to shake your mom’s hand, “lovely to meet you.. miss.”

now eddie wasn’t opposed to pretending to be your boyfriend but fuck, really? he needed at least a week to prepare and rehearse, rather than you throwing him into a week of improvisation at a whim.

the literal second the door to your shared bedroom shuts, eddie spins on his heel, jaw clenched with an exasperated expression.

“what the fuck?” he whispers, rather loudly.

“i’m sorry!” you hush back, eyes wide, “i- i.. i didn’t have a choice! fuck, i’m really sorry,” anger turning to regret as you flop onto the bed, head in hands.

well great. now he feels guilty. you’re almost sobbing when he joins you on the bed, pressing his lips together in frustration.

“hey! it’s fine.. it’s fine,” he assures, “shit, it’ll be fun,” bumping his shoulder into yours playfully.

you sniffle pathetically, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “i’m really sorry.. i panicked,” bottom lip wobbling.

god, you look like the reincarnation of bambi.

his heart pangs, guilt wracking his chest for the slight overreaction.

“i know,” nodding slightly, “it’s okay.. it’ll be funny, you know?” he’s not sure that it’ll be anymore funny than it’ll be stressful, but he’s prepared to see this week through.

for you.

it’s the little things that make a relationship a relationship. things eddie hadn’t ever considered.

like the seemingly insignificant touches and the casual kisses. all things he now had to meticulously plan and prepare for.

nothing was ever too much. a gentle peck on the cheek or a graze of the knee. things no one would really notice unless you weren’t doing them.

you grab his hand walking to the table for dinner and he almost starts cackling until he remembers, now hoping that his palm wasn’t sweating too much.

that night in bed, you turn to face him, tiny smile creeping onto your face, “i think my cousin likes you, i mean- did you see the look on her face when you walked into dinner?”

eddie lets his phone fall onto his chest, flabbergasted at your suggestion, “what are you talking about?”

you hit his arm, furrowing your brows, “c’mon, she was totally checking you out, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” rolling your eyes in jest.

if he’s honest, he really didn’t notice.

he’d been too preoccupied by you in that damn dress to care about anyone else at the table.

eddie didn’t get to see you dressed up often and the dress was sitting just right, he couldn’t exactly focus on much else.

“oh, are you getting jealous?” he mocks.

you tut, shaking your head, “maybe after we’ve fake-broken up you two can get together.”

“you are jealous,” he laughs, sliding his phone onto the nightstand and settles into bed, “what if i don’t wanna fake-break up?” only half-serious as he says it.

“well then i’ll get a fake-restraining order against you,” poking your tongue out before turning the lamp off. “goodnight, eddie,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you roll over.

there’s a quiet, niggling little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. or maybe it’s his heart speaking.

whatever it is, he doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. at least not right now anyway.

eddie supposes that a vacation at your aunt’s beach house would entail seeing you in little clothing but he can’t help the little woah from leaving his mouth when you walk out of the bathroom in a tiny bikini top.

“don’t be fucking weird,” you frown, eyes trailing down to his hot dog swimming trunks.

“i’m not!” he exclaims, still trying to draw his eyes away from your chest, “i’ve just never seen.. them,” eyes widening at your revealing bikini.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, expressing your disgust with a small groan.

the entire day is made significantly harder by your top, or lack thereof. eddie finds his gaze slipping downward and every so often has to remind himself that he’s not actually your boyfriend and he doesn’t have the rights to ogle you.

it’s just hard to focus on a thing your dad says to him when you’re sat in front of him like that.

his limits are tested when your cousin suggests a game of tennis. already calling eddie for her team as you get into position on the opposite side of the court.

perhaps you were right, her unnecessary, constant touching sent alarm bells ringing in his head. not that he’s paying it any mind, too distracted by your chest as you bound around the court.

so much so, he completely misses the ball, letting it bounce off of the court and into a hedge somewhere.

“eddie!” she shrieks, running off to collect the ball.

your eyes lock from over the net, your brows threaded together, “how about we swap teams? you join me,” pointing your finger at his face, gesturing for him to join you, which he does with a smile.

mostly just glad to be away from her wandering hands but also, he gets to prove a point.

“you are jealous,” eddie smirks, hushed tones as he speaks into your ear. you’re so close now, enough to touch.

he wants to.

he wants to so bad.

even if it were just to make your cousin seethe with envy.

“me? never,” smacking your racket gently at his leg, earning a nasty glare from your unhappy cousin who smacks the ball far too harshly towards him.

he’s too hot and bothered to do much after such an exciting game of tennis, walking in stride with you as you enter the large house. blabbering away about something or nothing when your mom announces her presence rather loudly.

“oh god,” pulling a face as she eyes your outfit, “you really should coverup sweetie, nobody wants to see that,” cackling away to herself.

eddie’s floored, utterly stunned that she’d ever say something like that, let alone to your face. your despairing expression stabs him in the heart, choking him from the inside out.

“well i do,” grinning at the lady in front of him.

“of course you do, you’re a man,” the older woman sighs, “i think it’s a little disgusting to just.. have everything out there,” gesturing to your chest, “women should have pride in their appearance, you know?”

you blink, chewing the inside of your lip as you nod. shrinking into yourself as you glide up the stairs. in an ideal world, he’d call her a bitch and move on with his life, however, he supposes that probably wouldn’t be wise.

she tuts, shaking her head at the stairs, “she’s always so offended.. can’t say a thing to her.”

eddie bites his tongue, diverting from what he truly wanted to say to offer some mild criticism, “maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all,” shrugging as he flies past her and up the stairs, hot on your trail.

the bedroom’s empty though the en-suite door is closed, a muffled sniff coming from the other side. he hates that she’s made you cry, that she’s capable of even making you feel bad when you had absolutely zero reason to.

his knuckles rap against the door, pressing his cheek to the wood, “it’s me.”

there’s a small scuffle and then the lock clicks though the door remains closed. having to console you after the amazing afternoon you’d had feels wrong.

he creeps inside, closing the door behind him. you’re slouched on the toilet, tears leaking down your warm cheeks. it’s a punch to the gut to see you like this. all those harsh stories you’d recalled to him suddenly made a shit ton of sense.

“you okay?” eddie asks, the answer already overwhelmingly obvious.

“yeah,” you sigh, wiping your sodden cheeks, sniffling for good measure.

“you shouldn’t listen to her,” he affirms, perching on the bathtub, “don’t let her upset you.. it’s not worth it,” although his words probably fall on deaf ears, you already know this.

“i know..” staring up at him with your puppy dog eyes, “i’m sorry, she just.. ugh,” snarling your lip, “she knows how to make me feel like shit.”

“what the hell are you apologising to me for?” eddie jokes, poking you in the arm, “she’s just jealous,” choosing wisely where to go from here, “she doesn’t look as good as you do and she doesn’t like that.”

his words crack a tiny smile on your lips, mission accomplished.

“thanks,” you nod, “i mean that. thank you for even coming with me.. i couldn’t do it without you.”

his heart swells a little, or a lot really.

this is a dangerous game, he thinks. wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.. blur the boundaries a little more.

how much more blurred could they possibly get before eddie had to admit to his feelings?

he’s not sure he wants to find out.

on reflection, it had been a pretty good week. at least eddie thinks so, pretending to be your boyfriend wasn’t exactly normal or anything he’d ever pictured himself doing. but he’s enjoyed it nonetheless.

despite a new found, deep hatred for your mother, he doesn’t think the rest of your family were that bad. willing to volunteer for any other vacations you might be forced to drag him on.

nowhere near as testing as he once thought it would be. in reality, the hardest part about it all was that he had to go home alone tomorrow.

as both of you lounge on the bed, the tv prattling on in the background, he smiles, gently elbowing you in the side.

“y’know this week has been fun,” reminiscing on all the stupid things he’s had to do to sell this story.

one night, you had helped yourself to a little too much wine. stumbling all over the vast garden as your family watched on in horror. so eddie did what any good boyfriend would do and slung you over his shoulder, giggling into his back as he manoeuvred his way up to your room.

not only the public displays of affection come back to him, but also the seemingly minuscule ones. where only you were involved. sneaky laughs and glances that only the two of you could understand.

“mhm,” you hum, sliding your bookmark into your book, “it has, thank you for doing this,” before leaning over to place your book onto the bedside table.

“i’ve enjoyed it,” he meets your eye, that same uncomfortable fluttering starts again in his chest, “being your ‘boyfriend’ i mean.”

you shuffle, turning to face him properly, “well.. i’ve enjoyed being your girlfriend,” lips twitching into a smile.

there’s something in the silence, a tension that feels ready to burst.

eddie does something he might live to regret, something so idiotic and foolish that put your entire friendship at risk.

he leans forward, hastily connecting your lips in what must be the world’s most awkward kiss.

you hesitate for too long of a moment, jerking your head back to stare into his eyes.

he’s done it. he’s ruined the single best thing he had left.

an apology begins to form on his tongue but your lips silence him, your hand finding his cheek to bring him closer. eddie’s eyes fall shut, slowly accepting this, that you wanted it too.

he repositions himself, at your mercy as you tug on his hair, now hovering above your body, elbows sinking into the mattress.

he can feel you now, your chest brushing against his, the way your heart rate seems to match his, thumping away in your chest.

“we should.. we should stop,” eddie pulls away, breathlessly panting with your lips still tracing over one another.

“no.. no,” you shake your head, your eyes shiny and full of something he can’t place.

“what?”

“kiss me again,” you demand.

he’s not quite certain he’s hearing you right. fear had forced him to tear himself away but now you were asking for him to do it again?

eddie falters for a second too long, forcing you into kissing him, smashing your lips to his as your fingers scramble to find the back of his neck under his hair.

oh my god oh my god oh my god.

your entire family are in this house and he’s going to desecrate this innocent bed with you, his fake-girlfriend.

he feels your knee slide up his thigh, allowing him more space between your legs. now it’s more than just your chests meshed together, his poor sweatpants tightening with every slight buck of your hips. blood rushing to his cock as you gasp and sigh into his mouth.

he has to pull himself back into the room when your hand slides from his neck to his crotch, lightly tracing over his throbbing cock.

making out could be easily laughed off but this- this was serious.

“you.. you wanna do this?” he asks, gasping for breath as you continue to kiss at the side of his mouth.

“i want to do this,” you reaffirm, dipping your hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a hoarse groan from his throat.

your hand wraps around the base of his cock, leaving a trail of kisses to his jaw.

his eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open as you start pumping your fist, thumb circling his leaking tip.

“oh my god,” eddie breathes, jolting his hips into your fist.

this entire week he had been internalising all of these intrusive thoughts and feelings about you and now it felt like he might genuinely cum all over your hand, not even five minutes into this.

it doesn’t at all help when you’re panting and writhing around underneath him, delicate fingers making him feel like he’s flying.

“f-fuck,” he stutters, grabbing your forearm, “you have to stop,” regaining just enough composure to reopen his eyes.

“why?” concern rippling through your voice.

now he falters, gazing into your lust filled eyes, pupils all blown out and crazy. it would be despicable if he were to divulge his embarrassing secret to you.

so he takes your arm, pinning it above your head before starting his descent, a paper chain of kisses and light grazings down your neck and chest.

it’s entirely too intimate for just friends, fake relationship or not.

“oh,” you sigh, head rolling back onto the pillow.

eddie has control now, regaining power without a damn clue of what to do with it. your shorts come down with his free hand with a little help from you, your ankle now comes to rest on his shoulder.

he should feel stronger than he does, rather more intimidated and fearful that he’s going to disappoint.

“please..” you pout, “please touch me,” he wonders if you can sense his anxiety.

he lets go of his grip on your wrist, trailing down your quivering body until he meets your lower stomach. this new position allows him access to your heat, wet and waiting for him.

“shit,” he mutters, sliding a solitary finger between your slick folds, watching as your chest heaves in response. “you’re so pretty,” he can’t help but blurt out.

“shut up and touch me,” you snap, chasing his touch with your hips.

eddie’s not going to deprive you of that now, is he?

circling around your clit, noting the way you groan and grab onto his arm. not that he thinks that there’ll ever be a second time for this.

your eager hands grab at his sweatpants, hoping that that’ll be enough of a hint.

he’s not going to last long, that’s for certain.

fed up with his stalling, you tug his sweatpants down, aiding him in sliding them off and onto the floor with a muffled thump.

your arms fan out across the mattress, glancing down at the minimal space between your bodies and then back into his eyes.

his entire body shudders as he slides into your eager cunt, bumbling through all of the profanity in his vocabulary. watching as your jaw falls slack, wary that you couldn’t make too much noise.

perhaps it was the fact that he’d been brushing off any even slightly sexual thought for an entire week or maybe it was just true but eddie swears that no one had ever felt this good before.

“fuck,” he wails, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft, mailable flesh of your hip.

just the way you grip onto the blanket makes him dizzy, letting his eyesight go hazy, a blurred picture of you sprawled underneath him.

the pleasure is insurmountable, something snapping in his stomach when your hand reaches out for him, gripping onto his forearm.

“eds,” you gasp, just loud enough over his barely contained grunts, “more,” sickening eyes doing all the work for you.

there’s not much more of him left to give, already nudging against your soft spot, repositioning your calf higher on his shoulder to allow him deeper, receiving a sweet whimper in return.

“yeah,” you pant, over and over, fingernails latching onto his skin. his arms start to shake, still holding himself up over you as his orgasm begins to catch up with him.

“shit.. i don’t- i don’t think..” eddie swallows, struggling to stay composed as you tighten around him, looking up at him through batting eyelashes.

it makes his stomach twist, barely able to move as his high comes crashing down, overtaking his senses, sweaty bodies colliding as he collapses on top of you.

“oh shit.. oh my god,” he whines, release painting your thigh, the sheet and even your fucking t-shirt.

he’s not ready for a child but he’s certain that’d have been worth it.

eddie glances at you, subsequently moving from your body onto the mattress. the entire high he had been feeling comes tumbling down, now faced with the reality that you were no longer just friends.

the ceiling becomes incredibly interesting, both of you avoiding eye contact as the silence somehow grows louder.

for a room that was just full of lewd, filthy noises, it sure is quiet now.

the blanket rustles and eddie dares a peek, you stand at the edge of the bed, disheveled and still slightly flustered.

you look down at the stain he had left, tutting quietly, “thanks a lot.. gonna have to change now,” adding a soft chuckle.

“sorry.. cheaper than a baby though,” adding to your banter, it’s indescribable the relief he feels.

eddie watches as you rummage around in your suitcase, no longer shying away as you pull your shirt over your head, shimmying into your clean clothes.

when you rejoin him in bed, the tension is mostly gone, the lamp clicking off, encompassing the room in total and utter darkness.

there’s a further moment of silence wherein eddie isn’t sure if he should bolt and hide or embarrass himself further and say something stupid.

something- someone, brushes against his ribcage as you shuffle, your hand coming to rest on his stomach.

there’s not a word exchanged between you but eddie takes the hint, sliding your hand further over his midriff. it’s a pathetic attempt at cuddling but it makes him flutter all the same.

eddie wakes up sprawled face first across the bed, blinking at the bright light, not a trace of you in the room.

he fucked up. he fucked up so bad that you’ve decided to find your own way home and left him here.

shit.

he clambers out of bed, pulling his hastily discarded sweatpants back on, remembering every last detail of your night last night.

the guilt comes in waves, and then embarrassment and shame jump in to make it worse.

years of friendship down the drain and for what?

he just about builds enough courage to leave the room and venture downstairs, creeping out onto the hall when you come bounding up the stairs, meeting him in the cramped corridor.

“hi,” smiling coyly, playing the oblivious game.

“hey,” he nods, reciprocating the smile.

nothing was ruined. you’re fine.

“i was just coming to wake you..breakfast’s ready,” you fiddle with your thumbs, a completely different version of yourself than the one he saw last night.

“oh good,” eddie blinks, “i’m starving,” wanting to smash his palm into his face the second the words come out.

“great!” you exclaim, the painful cringe coming through on your face too.

the two of you walk down the stairs in silence, sitting at the table with a small knowing glance.

this house is huge. he’s sure no one else would’ve heard.

he’s midway through his coffee when your dad leans across the table, probing the two of you, “so, will you be trying for kids anytime soon?”

eddie damn near chokes on the searing hot liquid, coughing his gulp back up into the mug, combatting the burning sensation travelling down his throat and also up into his cheeks.

why would he ask that? over breakfast no less.

“uh no.. nope,” you answer for him, thankfully.

“that’s a shame,” your father stands from the table, sliding his plate into the soapy water before making his way over to eddie, clapping him on the back, “you’re gonna have to make an honest woman outta her first son,” before shuffling off into the living room.

he wants to die. in fact, he’d much rather the ground open up and swallow the two of you alive than to be sat at this breakfast table.

judging by the look on your face, you share the sentiment.

he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you.

he’s just not sure when or how. it’d be unfair for him to unload his feelings unto you at the beginning of the journey, not to mention also extremely inconvenient if you didn’t feel the same.

but then he’s also acutely aware that if he doesn’t force those words out soon, that they may never come out.

he’s just finished loading your bags into the back of his van, admittedly a little sad to be leaving.

it’s like, he could no longer pretend that what was going on was real. that last night might’ve just been a mistake and you want to cut ties here.

your phone blares from your hand, holding up a finger as you walk away to take the call.

eddie rehearses what he’s going to say to you. well, tries to.

i think you’re super cool, how about i become your boyfriend for real?

he cringes at the thought of it, it wasn’t really the declaration of love that you deserved.

the door opening startles him, your demeanour had done a complete one eighty, your shoulders slumped as you slide into the seat in silence.

“you all good?” eddie asks, wondering what had changed in such a short time.

“uh.. yeah.”

“y’sure?” he probes, not entirely convinced by your change in attitude.

“that was josh,” you swallow, looking straight ahead out of the windscreen, “he wants to see me when i’m back.. to talk.”

“oh,” he replies flatly, “wow okay.”

the life he had dreamed slowly crumbled before him, it was foolish to think that you’d just want to settle down with him now. he’d gotten ahead of himself and now had to reap the consequences.

“yeah..”

eddie doesn’t utter another word, instead, turning the key and starting the long, painful drive home.

maybe he’ll throw himself out of the van on the interstate. punishment for letting himself even slightly believe that you’d be interested in him too.

josh is waiting outside of your building when eddie pulls up, smug grin in tow.

tempted to just keep driving, smash into the side of his expensive shiny car and then reverse over his spindly little body.

that doesn’t happen of course.

instead, eddie keeps his head ducked low, muttering a low see you later before you clamber out. there’s so much left unsaid, even a complete idiot could see that.

he doesn’t watch as you walk over to your ex, certainly doesn’t want to see how his hands meet the small of your back and the way you seem to relax into his touch.

not a chance.

it’s eating him alive. even with the windows rolled down entirely, he’s sweating. as if it’s gnawing at his skin, trying to find a way out.

fuckfuckfuck.

tyres screech along the tarmac, his hands shaking as he turns the wheel. something otherworldly and dangerous overtakes his senses as he tears off back down the same road he’d just traveled.

and maybe he’d regret it and maybe it’d ruin your friendship forever but this week couldn’t have been for nothing.

you had to at least know.

eddie’s palms are wet, holding onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. he doesn’t recall the journey to your apartment being so fucking long but he feels like he’s in this stuffy van for an eternity.

the moment he pulls onto that familiar street, bile rises in his throat.

maybe josh would have sweet talked his way back into your life and he’d get his ass beat. or maybe you’d laugh him out of there, telling him to never contact you again.

he supposes that there’s not much left to lose now.

eddie hops out of his van without so much as a look back, bounding up the short path as the door swings open, nearly knocking him for six.

“eddie,” you remark, phone gripped in your hand. your jaw hangs open, what looks like tears stain your cheeks. “i was trying to call you.”

frankly, he’s still out of breath from the exhilaration of it all, struggling to find his words as he stares gormless at you, “my phone’s dead.. i didn’t- didn’t know.. what’s wrong?” mind immediately jumping to josh.

what had he done?

“nonono.. nothing’s wrong, i just..” you trail off, your gaze not once breaking, “why are you here?”

eddie’s mind goes blank, why was he here?

to tell you that he thinks he’s in love with you? he can’t say that.

“you.. left something- in the van.”

idiot.

total fucking fool.

“oh!” swallowing the shock of his arrival, “what? what is it?”

why are you both dancing around this? he’s sure you feel it too. maybe. that could be the adrenaline speaking.

“nothing.. you didn’t leave anything- i don’t know why i said that.” shaking his head, if he weren’t so nervous, he’d have been crippled with embarrassment. “look, i have to tell you something,” biding his time, hoping your crazed ex won’t pop out of a bush and pummel his head into the ground.

“eddie..” you start, that solemn tone he was dreading to hear.

“no, let me say it,” he tries again, clearing his throat, “i need to s-“

“-eddie,” cutting him off mid-sentence, bounding up to him with your arms extended, throwing them around his neck as you press your lips to his.

it’s almost enough force to knock him on his ass, his hands coming to meet your waist in an attempt to stabilise both of you.

you pull away, lips still pouted slightly, “sorry.. what were you gonna say?”

eddie can’t recall a word of the speech he’d halfheartedly rehearsed. “well shit.. doesn’t matter now,” once again pressing his lips to yours, swaying in the evening breeze as everything seems to fall into place.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader

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kaeichi · 1 month

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love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. gn! reader. reader likes guys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

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⊹ 02 : radiant [wc: 4.6k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“ah…found you, finally.”

nagi huffs out, slightly out of breath as he leans against the railing of the staircase on the fourth floor. what a damn hassle, making him expend such excessive effort like this—it all could've been easily prevented if you just replied to his text asking you about his whereabouts. he figures your phone must've died, because there's no way you wouldn't have noticed his 7 texts of wya? in a row.

“been tryin’ to look everywhere f’you. next time, can you just tell…” he trails off once he steps closer and realizes you're not alone.

“seriously? him again?” your boyfriend len scowls, directing his caustic gaze at the topic of interest, who has conveniently decided to show up at the right moment.

except nothing about this is right at all.

there's no good explanation as to why you feel your heart plummet. your best friend, your only trusted companion whose mere presence incites a familiar sense of comfort and an effortless, breezy smile from you; when you're with him, you don’t have to think much about the reasoning behind why he has that sort of ability, or why it feels like you're right at home whenever you're with him.

you just somehow know. and that's how it has always been.

being with nagi is supposed to be easy, calming, and freeing, even—so why is there a heavy pressure weighing down on you all of a sudden? despite everything, why has he suddenly become the last person you want to see right now?

“seishiro?” apprehensively, you ask, “what are you doing here?”

“i just came to get you. like usual.” while there's nothing wrong with what nagi says, you still inadvertently wince, hesitating to meet either male's eyes as an unpleasant feeling brews in your gut.

“yeah, but i told you i was gonna be with my boyfriend…”

here’s the thing: it's not like nagi doesn't know you have one.

when you first told him about it, he thought it was a joke (a hilarious one, at that). he thought it might've been one of your delusions again, and in typical nagi seishiro fashion he only spared you a fleeting glance with heavy-lidded eyes and a congratulations, i guess in the most listless tone. and when you told him to go on ahead because you wouldn't walk home with him today, he failed to take it seriously once more, thinking it was one of your weird ‘loyalty pranks’ to see if he would actually go and leave you behind.

but when he didn't feel the usual tug on his shoulder, or your arm resting against the top of his dozing head to wake him up at the end of the class, he thought there was something slightly off. when he looked around and saw no trace of you around the classroom or even around the front of the school, he thought there was something really wrong.

nagi’s starting to find this stupid joke less and less funny.

could all of the previous days (or has it already been weeks?) you’ve been talking about this mysterious nobody be true? he should’ve paid more attention. so, yes—it's not like he doesn't know you have one, he just had a rather hard time believing it (though he doesn't know it's due to the fact that you are you, or because maybe he's just in denial about it).

what annoying, annoying jest. when did this so-called “relationship” even have the time to blossom?

“oh…did you?” the white-haired male’s voice doesn't come out as smooth as he’d like. he scratches his neck, feeling it a bit clogged for whatever reason. he's glad he's not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, because even if his voice betrays him, he can at least keep his expression neutral. “well, i’m here now, and i don't wanna walk home alone. i kinda forgot the way back, so i need your help—”

“seishiro!” you hiss, your voice clipped and bordering on desperate; a warning, one that goes right over nagi’s head.

“you know what?” a peeved voice cuts in—len’s, whose patience has worn thin. he has had enough of nagi demanding your attention that was supposed to be reserved for him. if you can’t even keep your eyes solely on your boyfriend, then you might as well be a good-for-nothing cheat. “forget this. i don’t think we’d ever work out if this continues.”

“w-what? wait, huh?” as your face crumbles, nagi is unable to grasp why he feels a faint throb in his chest at the sight. “let's talk about thi—”

“right, let's talk about it, hm?” when you finally meet len’s eyes, you’re barely able to recognize your boyfriend at this point, his taunting sneer morphing his face into someone completely different. is this really the kind, alluring lover that you fell for? “be with me, or cut off this… this nagi kid?”

“what? where did this come from? you can't just suddenly make me choose—”

“and there's your answer.” he scoffs, slapping your hand away that's unconsciously reaching out to him before turning around to leave. in a few rigid strides, he's gone, and you're left staring blankly at the space where he just was.

it is nagi who breaks the silence after a few moments. “…guess this wasn't a good time, huh?” nagi sighs, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter as you remain frozen. “well, at least we can go home now.”

“nagi.”

confusion clouding all over his face, he slightly perks up at your somber tone, a hint of unease setting in his stomach. he doesn't like whatever this is that he's suddenly feeling. “why’re you calling me nagi?”

“i think you know why. leave me alone, nagi.”

for quite some time after, those words remain the last thing you've said to him.

nagi has always been somewhat aware of his inability to comprehend feelings, whether it be his own or of others, but this time is the first time he's ever bothered by his lack of aptitude; the first time he's ever felt this swirl of foreign emotions engulf him, of strange, unknown sensations rushing to him all at once. what started as a mere bud sprouting along the expanse of his lungs, grew double—no, triple in size within a matter of days, poking and squeezing the spongy organ until its function proved near useless.

the abundance of petals produced by these excrescences is nothing but a nuisance, blocking his airways and tainting his tongue with the bitter, awful taste of decay, which only seems to get worse with each passing week without a word from you. it's a pain, it's majorly vexing, it's—

“leave me alone, nagi.”

—it's suffocating.

PRESENT

nagi still refuses to join the soccer team.

in the hallways, reo somehow manages to always find you and your companion throughout the day, greeting the both of you with unmatched enthusiasm—the kind that someone really shouldn't have at seven o’clock in the morning. everytime that happens, reo is only met with the same, vacant stare, accompanied with a blunt no without much thought.

after all, he's not the only one who came to recruit the white-haired genius. the volleyball, basketball, and softball clubs (even the cheerleading team, for some reason?) have all tried, to which he instantly shut down.

“why would i participate in sports? even walking is tiring to me,” is his simple reasoning every single time, without fail.

at some point, reo tries to bribe him with a brand new gaming console as a “customary gift”. not that there's anything customary about that, but you suppose rich people live in a different world than you common folks do (when you found out that reo arrives to school in a goddamn limousine, you've lost all interest in being more than acquaintances with someone as absurd as that).

however, that is when reo finally manages to elicit a reaction from nagi, a slight sheen in his eyes that made you immediately panic, dragging him away before he gives in and telling him accepting anything from mikage? i think the fuck not! (“why not?” “because we don’t want to get in debt by someone like him!” “oh, we don’t?” “yes, dummy! next thing you know, we keep ‘borrowing’ money from him and eventually when we can't pay it back, he ships us off to some remote island and makes us his slaves for the rest of our lives because we couldn't afford our debt!” “you watch too much horror movies, i think.”)

however, as irritating as one’s persistence could be, deep down you hope nagi accepts reo’s invite. you've always known about his underutilized potential, and how he himself is the only thing that's holding him back.

truly, a waste that is.

“i know that rich boy’s been really annoying about it, but why don't you try it out? even just for a little bit?” you ask nagi, having stayed behind during lunch in your classroom instead of heading to the crowded school cafeteria.

“don't wanna,” he mutters against his arms, head buried against the desk.

“why not? our teacher’s been hounding you for not being in a club, right?”

“i’ll just join the book club or something. now go away,” he says, probably trying to catch up on much needed rest, despite already sleeping through your morning classes.

“you slacker. just try it out so mikage stops bothering me too.”

nagi suddenly lifts his head up. “he’s bothering you?”

leaning your elbow on the desk nagi’s lying down on, you press your cheek against your palm as you snicker at his sudden mood change. “mhm. won't you save me, your one and only best friend? the one you swore to protect until the world collapses? me, an innocent, pure ethereal being who's cruelly subjected to harassment and—”

he breathes out a long exhale. you brace yourself, racking your brain as you try to think of more ways to persuade him (without including the promise of reo’s “prize” or whatever suspicious deals you're sure the heir is involved with).

however, in nagi’s perspective, it's not because he needed any more convincing, but because he can't believe he's actually willingly to participate in something so bothersome for someone's sake. “…fine.”

“wait, actually?! for real?” with your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, nagi almost snorts at your ridiculousness. almost.

“you're the one who kept telling me to go for it, so why’re ya surprised?”

his sleepy voice gets drowned out by your excited chattering. “wow, nagi seishiro is actually interested in something else other than napping and gaming? no way! noooo way!”

“it's annoying, but yeah.” he grimaces, regret already sinking in—but since he's doing it for you, he supposes it's alright. just this once, he can make an exception. “…you're coming with me, right?”

a pause. “um… no? unless you want me to be the token benchwarmer?”

“ah, fair.”

“yeah, yeah. besides, i’m already in debate club, so me joining you is out of the question.”

“not even as our manager?”

“nope.”

nagi visibly sulks, lips forming into his signature pout. cute. it almost looks like he's at a loss of what to do without you—maybe it’s a result of you and him being stuck together at the hip since middle school, and how he's grown dependent on you due to his lazy nature, but you're sure he'll survive on his own.

…probably.

“i’ll come watch your games though,” you quickly add in case he backtracks on his word, reaching over the desk and tousling his hair, messing it up even more. he doesn't complain like how he usually would, merely blinking his wide gray eyes at you. “i mean, what kind of best friend would i be if i didn't support you?”

that seems enough for nagi. he straightens up, a hand running through his now disheveled white locks, peering at you with a newfound motivation. “better keep your eyes on me, ‘kay?”

you grin, nodding. “duh. goes without saying, loser.”

sometime after that, reo, nagi, and yourself have now fallen into some sort of routine: nagi now has practice on thursdays and fridays after school, but sometimes reo swings by unexpectedly during lunch on those days to discuss with nagi what their training plans would be after school (unable to wait until the end of the day, apparently). not that nagi actually listens, but he has come to a realization that it’d be too much work if he were to refuse him, so he just lets him do whatever he wants.

would it be foolish to think that reo would let up once he’s gotten what he wanted? if anything, his apparent interest grows even more, which only encourages the rumors that are recently circulating about you. girls still glare at you in jealousy, while guys sneak judgmental glances at you, but reo manages to clear up any misunderstandings using his natural charm and influence, so you're fine for the most part. how thoughtful. well, it's his fault in the first place anyway.

for some reason, you see him a lot more often than necessary.

…like right now, for instance.

when a flash of purple appears in your peripherals, you turn, met with the sight of reo’s handsome figure hovering by the doorway. the tall male is hanging rather stiffly in the middle of the entrance, as if unable to decide whether to come inside or not.

“mikage?” you decide to call him out. “what are you doing here?”

he flinches, akin to a deer in headlights. what's up with that reaction? is he not supposed to be here or…? “huh? well, i’m here for nagi, of course.”

“right.” you nod curtly. it's monday today; they don't even have practice until the next few days.

but even then, reo has picked the worst time to drop by, because nagi isn't even at school today. (surprise, surprise—he slept in. again.) just as you are about to bring that up, reo casually ambles over and pulls a seat back, sitting across you with a sheepish smile on his face.

by now, you've grown familiar with the scent of his cologne wafting in the air whenever he's nearby. it's a delicate yet expensive scent, fresh and woody, like musk with hints of apples and mint. a vast difference from nagi’s, whose smell is more down-to-earth, like fresh laundry and the breeze of early mornings.

other than the questioning glance you offer him, nothing happens for a few moments. reo opens his mouth as if to say something, but when nothing comes out, he reverts back to pursed lips and skittish glimpses. it's off-putting how he seems to struggle with striking up a conversation for once—you start to feel a bit awkward about the stretched silence, so you just shrug and continue eating from your bento. as long as he's not bothering you too much, you don't actually mind his company.

“want some?” noticing how you're the only one eating lunch, you absentmindedly bring up the chopsticks close to his mouth, urging him to take a bite out of your tamagoyaki.

that seems to finally snap reo out of his inner strife, his violet eyes widening as they flicker between you and the food, “y-you're feeding me…?”

ah, crap—you’re so used to feeding nagi that you didn't even think twice before bringing the neatly rolled omelette to his lips. before you can retract your hand though, reo quickly composes himself, enclosing his fingers on your forearm to prevent you from moving away. “okay, i guess,” he mutters shyly before taking a bite.

a slight relief fills you as you watch him accept your offer, though that quickly turns into nervousness. “well? how was it?” you ask, observing the purple-haired male chewing carefully with a finger on his chin.

“did you cook this?” reo returns with a question of his own, peering at you through his lashes.

“you didn’t answer my question…”

“hm. did you?”

“what, is my cooking not good enough for the great master mikage reo’s superior taste buds?” you roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance as your face warms at the fact that he's deliberately avoiding your questions. you half-expect him to spit out the food; now that you think about it, surely he wouldn't enjoy eating something so bland and second-rate—

“hmm, not sure. i might need another bite to fully understand the flavors.”

you blink dumbly at reo’s coyness. well, he doesn't seem to outright hate it, so that's better than you are initially expecting. when you push the bento closer to him, he only stares at you expectantly, as if waiting for something. you stare right back, muttering, “what is it?”

“uh…actually, i broke both of my hands. and my fingers too. all ten of them.” reo blurts out, simultaneously hiding his hands away from your view.

…what.

this is the second time you're at a loss for words because of reo. perplexed, you lean in, trying to take a peek behind his back. “your fingers seemed perfectly fine when you grabbed my arm.”

“well, a lot can happen in two seconds.”

“like…?”

“spontaneous functional impairment?”

i’ll show you a spontaneous functional impairment, you grumble under your breath. “i am not your maid.”

reo tilts his head to side, warmth radiating from the innocent smile plastered on his face. it's the same one he usually wears, the kind that makes one weak in the knees—one that you're fortunately immune to.

(at least you think so, anyway.)

“…if i paid you, would you be more inclined?”

“piss off, mikage.”

reo chuckles, airy and soft, and you find it disturbing how a mere sound can easily disarm your guard. that's just the kind of person he is, you guess, barely even having to try yet the influence he holds over anyone (regrettably including you, to a certain degree) is undeniable. you ponder why someone like him is even here in the first place; doesn't he have more important stuff to do?

“kidding, i'm kidding! it's delicious.”

but when he assures you and you watch as his eyes crinkle with amusement, you decide not to sweat the little details. he continues, “i mean it. i’d love to have more, if you're willing, of course.”

since hakuho high is a college prep school, your school’s soccer team is weak compared to the others, not to mention fairly new, established only recently by reo himself (thus making him captain, as if he couldn't be any more popular). it hasn't garnered much attention from its students—but since this is the first official match against another school, a pretty sizable crowd has filled the bleachers that friday afternoon, excitement and anticipation buzzing in the air.

on the way to the bleachers, you catch sight of your friend and his teammates warming up while the coach gathers them to hold his final group meeting prior to the game, most of them stretching their legs and some basking under the sunshine (and by some, you mean only nagi).

after the coach finishes saying his speech to the team, reo claps his hand against nagi’s back, making the latter wince. reo just hooks his arm around nagi’s shoulder, and you see his mouth moving and gesturing towards the direction of the bleachers when his purple eyes suddenly fall on you. sending reo a small wave, he waves back at you, albeit with more enthusiasm—which also made the girls surrounding you shriek. ah, right. you briefly think that you should start acting like you don’t know him in public, on the off chance that a crazed fan of his comes for your throat just for being involved with him.

nagi glances where reo’s line of sight is. you wave at him as well when your eyes meet, expecting him to just send one back in acknowledgment, but instead he starts jogging towards you. “you made it,” he breathes out once he's within earshot.

“i said i’d watch your game, right?” you playfully jab him on the arm, observing how his legs look way more toned than you’ve last seen. has he always been this fit? seems like all that training he begrudgingly went through has paid off. “lookin’ fresh in uniform, seishiro. sorry i couldn't make it to any practices though, i couldn't ditch my own club.”

nagi shrugs, feeling content since you still made it. he reaches into his pocket, fishing out his beloved device and handing it to you. “can you keep my phone with you? i forgot i had it in my pocket.”

after nagi gets back to his team, you end up sitting on the third row of the bleachers as you wait for the game to begin. you fiddle with the charm on his phone. he still has it attached (you make a mental note to ask him about it again later), and you notice how some of the colors of the black beads have faded. a cursory thought passes, where you wonder if it's due to age, or if he touched it too often that the oils from his fingertips have worn the surface off.

you're leaning more on the former hypothesis—you can’t imagine nagi getting sentimental over a handmade charm that’s mediocre at best. or anything at all, period.

a sudden bump on your shoulder causes you to break out of your thoughts. a deep voice hurriedly speaks out, “excuse m—”

“len?” out of all people, why is he sitting next to you?

you’ve barely seen your ex-boyfriend in the past three years. either he's good at hiding, or you're even less popular (or involved with anyone else who isn't nagi) than you think. to be honest, you've forgotten all about him, but you can still recognize his dark eyes and, annoyingly enough, even the scent of his cologne with just one moment of appraisal.

len looks at you, eyes widened and mouth agape, before he gets up and turns around, climbing up the stairs to find a different seat. you click your tongue, slightly ticked off that he ran away from you. again. okay, whatever.

just then, the referee blows the whistle, signaling the start of the game. reo gets the ball first touch, sneaking his way through defenders with his quick thinking and passes. you're impressed by his skill, but since this is the mikage reo we're talking about, you guess you should've expected it. the team moves accordingly, passing the ball back and forth between them, intensity already cranked up to the maximum so soon after it began.

well, mostly everyone is pumped up. nagi’s half-ass running makes you snicker, and you wonder if he's even going to do anything at all this match if his slouched, lethargic posture is anything to go by. but then you catch sight of his face when an opposing player comes up to him, his visage contorting from passive to mildly irritated. it's only a tiny change, hardly even noticeable, but since you've known him for so long you've gained a good understanding of these miniscule differences. you realize his opponent must have taunted him because now he's locked in, straightening up and dashing towards the penalty area.

for a pretty lax person, you wouldn't have guessed he'd be the type to be vindictive when provoked. most of the time, he does it unintentionally, showing off his unparalleled genius with barely any effort. the ball comes flying toward him, and it almost lands a few inches behind him yet he reaches it perfectly, twisting his body to trap the ball and swiftly kicking it to the goal in one fluid motion.

not even a minute in, hakuho scores a goal, and the world abruptly stops for a second.

absolute silence falls on the field, rendering both the opposing team and the crowd too stunned to speak or even move, save for reo who just beams at the prodigious striker.

“LET’S GO, SEISHIRO!”

the crowd subsequently erupts with deafening applause and cheers the moment they break out of their stupor, jumping out of their seats and yelling out what was that? in wonder and amazement.

nagi looks up as he hears your voice so distinctly clear from the bleachers. sure, he might have been a tad more zealous about that first goal, but it's not like it was a hard one to pull off—though you and everyone else’s reaction says otherwise, so he must've done something cool.

…still, is any of that really necessary? nagi likes that you've made it to his first ever official match, but you look as if you're one step away from joining the cheerleading squad and be his personal cheerleader. he watches as you cup your hands around your mouth, grinning widely at him across the field, and he thinks that you've never changed at all since middle school. you're always too loud, too forward, too bothersome, too annoying—

but that makes you, you. he wouldn't want it any other way.

for the rest of the game, hakuho dominates the match thanks to him and reo. at some point, the white-haired striker vaguely remembers his captain telling him about some sort of a hat trick, and that it was a really difficult move to pull off (not really) so he tries doing that just to show off a little. i mean, it's my debut, and you're watching, he reasons.

it’s over before he knows it, the score being an impressive 7-0. after the referee blows the whistle and the game ends, everyone explodes into cheers once again, nagi’s teammates huddling over, some jumping on his back and some even lifting him up.

“nagi!” reo cries out. “wow! i've never seen you worked that hard bef— wait, where are you going?”

when nagi glances towards the bleachers again, he sees you pushing past the other students, nearly hopping over them so you can get to the field, fueled by nothing but adrenaline and hype. he shrugs off his teammate's arms around him, making a beeline towards you. he doesn't even realize what he's doing, lured by the excitement and passion emanating from your presence.

“hey, what are you doing all the way h—”

“SEISHIRO, HELLO? that was so incredible, what the hell was that?!” you exclaim, launching yourself at him. luckily, he catches you just in time…unluckily, he underestimates your exhilaration, your tackle causing both you toppling down on the grass with you landing on top of him as he lets out an oof– as his back hits the grass. “you crazy bastard. i always knew you had it in you!”

from the corner of his eye, he sees reo’s head whipped in your direction, watching the two of you intently, but at the moment none of that matters. nagi still isn’t too good at reading people's emotions, but when it's displayed so clearly before him, your earnest gaze and a smile impossibly wide that your face must've hurt to hold that for so long, he realizes you make it easy for him to understand it this time with no room for any alternative perception.

strands of your hair fall against his face as you hover above him, and the afternoon sun is just about to set, creating a warm halo against your form, and nagi thinks you look as radiant as ever.

taglist: @yoimiya-lover @i2innie

SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE i got so busy irl 😔 taglist is open! just comment ^_^ (if im unable/forgot to tag you, pls lmk!!)

#blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x you

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beary-rambles · 10 days

Text

Admirer

r.q: Hello! I love your writing! And especially when you wrote the Aegon x f!reader where the reader is shy and it’s all just cute and stuff. could you write something similar with Aegon x f!reader where the reader is again shy but has a huge crush on him? Like she’s a high born lady and secretly writes him letters and leaves stuff in his chamber like for example his favorite wine she saw him drinking, flowers, fruit and other things. Aegon doesn’t know who it is from because the two never talked. But once happens that when she’s putting again some gift into his chamber he catches her. Then some smut if you would be comfortable writing it and eventually he marries her and everything? Because Aegon feels appreciated and loved finally from someone. I want our Aegon to feel some love. Thank you!

w.c: 1.2k

c.w: highborn!f!reader, angsty aegon, kinda corny aegon, proposal ?, no actual smut but heavily implied, DRABBLE !! not proofread

a.n: will prob expand on this in the future bc i love this idea a lot but for now i hope this drabble is good <33

‘you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen i look for you in every room i enter’

‘My affections know no bounds when it comes to you’

‘I hope you shall smile to my prince for your smile is the most glorious sight’

‘you make my heart race and soar’

It had been over a month since the beginning of him receiving gifts each day, each attached with a small love letter to him. He had no clue where these letters and gifts were coming from. when he brought it up to his mother she shook her head and said she had no idea along with questioning some of the handmaidens who also had no idea. it was like a ghost, everyday around the same time late at night he would enter his room and a new gift would be there.

He had thought he was being pranked, that the karma from his past jests was finally catching up to him and he was finally being punished. there was no way someone truly felt this way about him, nobody looked for him in any room, nobody enjoyed seeing him smile. they had to be pranking him and he was very determined to catch you, because you continued to jest with him knowing his favorite wine his favorite desserts for gods sake you had even left him some bandages one time after he had been walking around with a cut on his cheek from an accident.

He was now determined to catch you, to stop this foolish game, to stop himself from thinking it was even real, but he had no clue how to even catch you, you were like the wind and he had no bases to even start from.

He had spent yet another day running around searching for any sorts of signs about this mysterious person and came up empty handed once more. He had been back earlier than usual, when he pushed open the door to his room he stood frozen in shock as the girl in front of him squealed, dropping the plate of cranberry pie on the ground.

He couldn't recognize her, he could tell by her nicer dress however that she had to be from some important family, his eyes fell to the table in which you were standing next to and he noticed a small note. It had been you. the person who was leaving him all these gifts and notes.

“What is your name?” Shaking her head unable to lift her head to look at him, “i am so sorry my prince i-” “Your name?” You give him your name and he rolls it off his tongue easily, testing it out. He quickly closes the door and makes his way swiftly to stand next to you before grabbing you chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Who put you up to this?” A confused look finds its way to the girls face and she shakes her head, “nobody my prince?” the statements ends with a question, unsure of what he even means in the first place.

He takes a second to admire your name, your eyes, every detail of your skin and for a second he hopes its real and that a pretty girl like you truly liked him. “then why have you been leaving me gifts?” he expects you to finally admit it now, that you had simply been toying with him.

You had been helaenas lady in waiting for almost two months now and it had been some of the best times you’ve ever had. The princess is kind, the people are kind enough but what really is a blessing is getting to see Aegon almost everyday. Ever since you first arrived in the keep you had kept your eyes on him, you had thought he was the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Despite how much you wanted to you couldn't find the courage to go up to him and introduce yourself. Being a member of the great house tyrell you should have this great confidence about you but you never were able to be as outspoken as your siblings so if you really wanted to express yourself you decided you would have to get creative.

You figured out he was always out of his room and the maids weren't in his room during a very specific hour of the day and had just decided it would be easier to now have to face him to give him notes of your affections. but today the prince had come back to his room earlier than he usually did leaving you in this situation. You hadn't figured out what you were gonna say because you had never even really planned on telling him it was you.

“I just rather like you a lot my prince.”

Ever since then he had basically been glued to your side, followed you around everywhere and begged you to join him for meals. It was odd. you had gone from him never speaking to him to him wanting to see you every moment of the day.

One night in particular you had not seen him all day oddly enough and you don't expect to see him, until you’re sitting in front of your mirror preparing for bed when you hear knocking on your door.

You have no clue who could be coming here so late but when you open your door you barely get a look at him before he walks past you and heads straight to your bed laying face down on it.

“My prince?”

He groans and just rubs his further into your pillow. You walk over carefully and place your hand on his lower back. “Is something wrong?”

“missed you.” He hums as you begin to rub up and down his back, “i missed you too my prince.”

“They kept me from you all day.” He pauses for a moment and when he begins to speak his voice is laced with venom. “They want me to marry some bitch from the north.” You pause, your heart breaking into a million pieces as you think about him going off and marrying someone that's not you. “oh…”

He sits up, looking at you with cloudy eyes, you can now smell the wine on him, “I told them no. That i would marry nobody.” you look down at your lap as he moves closer to you, laying his head on your lap. “Nobody if it was not you”

“my prince?” You whisper at him as he presses his cheek against your naked thighs, your night gown having ridden upwards “your father thought it was a wonderful idea. my mother was so mad i thought she was going to smack me in front of them all.” Your breath gets caught in your throat as he grabs your hand and presses it against his cheek. “My prince?” “Call me Aegon my love.”

“what are you saying?” He looks up at you, grabbing you neck and pulling you down so your facing are right next to each other, “marry me.”

“Why?” Mirroring his own question that had been asked not too many moons ago, he looks at you with a wide grin as his eyes drift to your lips, “I guess i just rather like you my love.”

He presses his lips against yours and hums forcefully shoving his tongue in your mouth in a heated kiss. You fall back with him on top of you, his hands sliding to your thighs to push up your night gown to your stomach completely exposing you to him. His fingers lightly rub against your folds “Aegon,,” “Allow me to show you how much i love you.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #aegon the usurper #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen imagine #prince aegon #house targaryen

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katsu28 · 9 months

Note

hi Kait!! might i be able to request "Black Dahlia - a lie" with Bradley bradshaw pleaseeee thank you!

ngl i think i got a little too carried away with this but man oh man did i have fun, pls enjoy!

black dahlia: a lie, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, rooster is a total simp, 2.3k

Rooster had a staring problem. Sometimes he spaced out in the middle of a training debrief without realizing he was looking straight at Phoenix the whole time, sometimes his furrowed brows made Maverick think he was angry at something when in reality he was just focused. Sometimes he creeped random people out because he just…didn’t know he was staring.

But most times, the unsuspecting focus of his staring was you. There was just something about you that had his eyes searching for you in every room he entered, drew his eyes to you every time you entered. He just couldn’t help it. Everything about you, from the way you laughed, to the way that you said his name, to the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled at him. Even the way you elbowed him in the ribs when he made a terrible joke had him hooked on you.

And you had no idea.

“Rooster. Rooster, you didn't laugh at my—what are you even looking at?” Hangman sounded deflated, but once his eyes tracked Rooster’s line of sight to you he knew what was going on in that feathery nicknamed brain of his friend. He’d known it pretty much all along. It was an unspoken thing, but he knew. Everyone knew. Everyone except you, apparently.

“Oh, I see it now. You don’t like my jokes as much as you like Y/N.”

Rooster tore his gaze from where you were chatting with Penny at the bar to see Hangman with his hands on his hips, looking entirely too smug. “Sorry, what?” His ears had picked up the blond man’s jest, but surely he’d heard it wrong.

“There’s no shame in admitting it. You have a crush on her.”

“I’m not ashamed, I’m just—”

“So you do have a crush!”

Rooster scowled, brows pinching in the middle as he gripped the neck of his beer a little tighter. “I’m a grown man, I don’t have a crush.”

“So you’re in love.”

“What? No, I’m not—we’re…friends, that’s it.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Bradshaw.” Phoenix cut in, poking him in the gut with the end of her pool cue. “Cut the shit and let us know how you really feel.”

There really wasn’t any way out of this other than to tell the truth, so he sighed. “Okay, so maybe—just maybe—I might possibly have some feelings for Y/N.”

“Yeah, and those feelings are called love,” Hangman said smugly, an ever present smirk gracing his face once again. He wasn’t wrong. He was actually right on the money, but Rooster would be damned if he let that son of a bitch know he was right.

“Screw you, Hangman. I’m not talking about this anymore.”

He thought he must’ve sounded more serious than he’d intended, because Hangman actually shut up for once, zipping his lips with an imaginary key before miming throwing it over his shoulder. Phoenix just nodded, knowing well enough not to push her luck with the subject.

Nothing about the conversation was mentioned the rest of the night, especially not when you’d made your way back over to the group of them and stayed for a while. Rooster almost forgot about it until a few days later.

Flight training had let out for the day a little later than usual, nearing half past seven when the pilots were finally trailing into the parking lot to go home.

“Up for a round at the Hard Deck, fellas?” Hangman offered. There were a few mumbled declines to the invitation scattered amongst the squad and he looked disappointed. Leave it to Hangman to still have energy for a beer after the grueling day they’d all just had.

Rooster had half a mind to say no too. All he wanted to do was go home and sit on the couch and probably do nothing for the rest of the night, that’s how tired he was. He wandered towards where he’d parked the Bronco this morning, getting almost halfway there when he heard Hangman’s voice again.

“Phoenix, c’mon, I know you’ll do me a solid this time. I’ll buy. I’ll even let you win at pool!”

“No can do, Bagman, I’m in a time crunch—gotta get to Y/N’s house.”

Upon hearing your name, Rooster froze, willing himself to walk away, but his curiosity won out very quickly. He turned around as casually as he could, hiking his duffel a little higher on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. She asked to borrow a necklace for her date tonight, so I gotta pop over there before she heads out.” Phoenix shrugged, patting her jacket pocket. Rooster couldn’t help the way his eyebrows flew up in surprise and she noticed, knowing smile already gracing her lips. “Everything okay with you, Bradshaw?”

“Fine. It’s, uh—no, yeah everything’s good.” He mumbled, clearing his throat. Hangman coughed from behind him, sounding suspiciously like ‘bullshit’, but Rooster paid him no mind. He was more focused on the fact you were going on a date with someone else. Someone that wasn’t him.

Then again, who the fuck did he think he was, having some kind of bullshit thoughts about who you went out with. He had no right, he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“Hey, why don’t I drop it off for you?” He blurted, pressing his lips into a thin smile. Phoenix looked confused. He was confused at himself too, honestly. What the hell was he doing? “I just, I mean your place is the opposite way and I’m gonna pass her neighborhood anyways, so…I can do it.” Now she looked amused.

“Since when did you get all helpful and shit?”

“Pretty sure I’ve always been helpful.”

“You sure there’s no other reason why you’re volunteering to see her? None at all? Maybe one starting with L and rhyming with shove?” Hangman chimed in, grinning wickedly. Phoenix nodded in agreement, her smile now mirroring his.

“I’ll shove you, Hangman. Shut up.” Rooster said sharply. He turned his gaze back to Phoenix. “No. No other reason. I’ll drop it off on my way home and that’s it.”

It was a bold faced lie and he knew his friends saw right through it, but he didn’t really care.

“Okay. Suit yourself.” She shrugged, fishing the necklace out of her pocket and pouring it into his outstretched hand. “Would ya look at that, Bagman? Looks like I’m free to beat you at pool after all.”

“I’m not buying you a beer anymore, that was a one time offer and it’s expired,” Hangman protested, much to Phoenix’s chagrin because she scoffed.

“Like hell it has! You promised a free beer and a win, I expect you to deliver. But make an effort to play fair, don’t just throw the game ‘cause that wouldn’t be a good look for me.”

Rooster could hear their bickering until he hopped into his car, but he peeled out of the parking lot in a blink, on the move to you.

He didn’t have a wisp of a plan in his mind when he pulled to a stop in front of your place. His hands shook where they were clenched around the steering wheel and he was sweating a little bit, but he had no idea what he was going to say to you. He just knew he needed to say something.

Five minutes and countless unhelpful self pep talks later, Rooster was finally ringing the doorbell, necklace in his pocket but still no clearer on what his end goal was. His mind went even more blank when you opened the door, because shit, you were breathtaking.

You had on a pretty dress in his favorite color and you were adjusting the strap of your heel when you laid eyes on him standing on your doorstep. Putting aside the confusion on your face at the sight of him and not Phoenix, Rooster would rank this as one of his favorite moments ever.

“Bradley?” You sounded concerned, nose crinkled to match. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” He trailed off, probably sounding completely stupid as he blinked at you dumbfoundedly. You said his name again, a little louder this time, and he snapped out of it.

He dug around in his pocket clumsily until his fingers closed around the delicate chain and pulled it out, letting it dangle from his hand as he held it out. “Nat asked me to swing this by on my way home from base.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually him who insisted on being the one to save the day. That would sound too weird, maybe even borderline creepy.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of your awaited necklace and you beamed, beckoning him into your front hallway. “You’re the sweetest, Bradley. Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to detour.”

“S’no problem. What’s a few more minutes on the road to help a friend?”

“Maybe a few more minutes.” You said sheepishly, looking a tad embarrassed. “D’you—would you mind helping me put it on? I’ve never been good at clasping them on my own.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Sure.” He moved behind you, trying not to inhale too sharply when you moved your hair off your neck. God, all he wanted to do was whirl you around and kiss you. Instead, he decided to make some small talk to get his mind out of where it shouldn’t have been in the first place. “So…you’re going on a date. With who? Maybe I know ‘em.”

“Probably not. He’s not Navy, I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. His name’s Vinny. He’s a boxer.”

Vinny. Sounded like an asshole name.

“Didn’t know boxers were your type.” He said casually, working deftly to latch the tiny hook.

“Yeah?” You sounded amused. “And what exactly do you think my type is?”

Me, he wanted to say. But he held his tongue, instead opting for a noise of nonchalance.

“That’s a shame. Would’ve thought you of all people would know.”

“Why?”

“You’ve always seemed to know me best.” You said simply. Rooster’s fingers fumbled the clasp in surprise. “When I’m down, you always know how to make me smile. When I’m upset, you seem to know exactly what’ll help. You know everything I like, everything I hate. You know me like the back of your hand. How is that?”

“I…pay attention.”

“So that means you know Hangman’s favorite song? Fanboy’s comfort movie? What about Phoenix and Bob’s secret handshake?” You weren’t facing him, so he had no idea if you were being serious or not, but he was stumped.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, brain scrambling for any shred of an excuse for not knowing any of those answers. He paid attention, yes, but only to you. Rooster’s fingers brushed along your bare shoulder softly in lieu of a response, too tender of a moment for two friends to be sharing.

“Don’t go.” He breathed. You froze, and Rooster swore it was the longest few seconds in his life. But then you turned around, wide eyes searching for his. Your lips parted like you were about to say something, but he shook his head, inhaling a shaky breath. “Don’t go on that date.”

“Why?” Your voice was impossibly quiet, so much so that he wouldn’t have heard you say anything at all had you not been this close to each other.

“Because when Phoenix mentioned it, I felt like I’d just done an inverted dive. And not in a good way, I’m talking about the ‘I’m about to puke’ feeling. Because I can’t stop thinking about you even though I should be thinking about anything else, because I don’t know what I’d do if we weren’t friends. Because I don’t wanna be just friends anymore.” Rooster admitted, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He was too far in now to quit and run away with his tail between his legs. This was happening, whether it was a good idea or not. “Because…I’m in love with you.”

You just blinked at him slowly, processing his words the best you could. He could practically see the wheels turning in your head, and it did nothing to quell the ball of nerves turning over in the pit of his stomach.

Forget what he was feeling earlier—this was definitely the longest few seconds of his life. It felt more like an eternity.

He was about to apologize, to say sorry for dumping out his feelings for you right before you were about to go on a date with someone else, but you beat him to the punch with something much, much better.

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and you kissed him. Hard.

More surprised than anything, it took him a beat to register what was actually happening, but his hands slid around your waist to splay across your back when it finally sunk in. He backed you against the nearest wall, but took special care in slipping a hand behind your head so it didn’t bounce off it, all while never letting his mouth leave yours. Your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, roaming around the expanse of flexed muscle shifting under your palms.

It wasn’t the perfect kiss. It was clumsy and messy and a little overexcited, but it was perfect to Rooster. He could only hope you were thinking the same.

He finally (albeit reluctantly) pulled away a bit, just enough to give you some air. “What do you think? Are you—does this mean what I think it means?”

You smiled, linking your hands behind his neck. “I think…I’ve come down with a nasty case of food poisoning and I need to cancel my date.” You said softly.

Rooster nodded solemnly. “And I think I should stay. Y’know, in case you need anything during this awful bout of said food poisoning.”

“That’s a good idea.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun maverick

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jolynejay · 10 months

Text

I think Ch. 7/4 may have just given us both Crowley's identity as well as the identity of his "dear esteemed benefactor"

Obvs. Spoilers Ahead in this analysis and speculative hypothesis (which will link the prologue to the current events in Ch. 7):

This moment is the moment that sent me down this rabbit hole:

General Lilia essentially calling Lady Malenore Briar Country's "most evil" princess.

I went over the prologue again semi-recently to see if the knowledge we have gathered since the start of the game recontextulizes some things. And while the purpose of the analysis then was different, what I did take special note of was that Crowley is speaking to a different but very specific person. To quote the man himself (from the English version):

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor...

My proud, beautiful flower of evil.

You are truly the fairiest one of all."

The way Crowley addresses this person is very interesting because it at once seems very subservient and almost intimate.

But what is even more interesting is the original Japanese phrasing. I will go through the lines one by one to point out the notable details:

ああ‥‥‥愛しい我が君

"愛しい" (itoshii) is generally used to describe something that is lovely, dear. "我が君" (waga kimi) is generally understood to mean "my lord/ruler/master". The translation as "my dear esteemed benefactor" is... alright, though it does seem to detract a bit from the portrayal of this person as someone that has a lot of power over Crowley.

What I'd like to note though is that since Japanese is a very context dependent language this line might also be read a very different way: if "kimi" was used in the context that Crowley knows this person very well, being allowed to address them directly like this... then the line could also be read as Crowley calling this person "My beloved." There is still the underlying power dynamic underneath but it is more finely tuned and something that reminds me more of a pair of royals.

This would certainly not be the first way for someone to understand this line but subtext and double meanings can reveal a lot.

気高く麗しい悪の華

Notable here is mainly that Crowley is using a lot of archaic words to describe the person he is speaking to (e.g. using the kanji "華" instead of the modern "花" - both pronounced "hana," meaning flower). This may indicate that this person is of a people whose culture does not move as fast as the rest of the world's - still bound to old ways of speaking and thinking.

貴女こそが世界で一番美しい

Now, this last line is spicy. The English version of this line is pretty gender neutral after all - the fairest of them all. But what the original line makes very explicit is that Crowley is talking to/about a woman.

"貴女" (anata) - not "貴方" (anata), not "我が君" (waga kimi) but "貴女"

Crowley is addressing a noble woman directly in a manner that implies they are of equal standing. Like a husband addressing his wife.

Now let's circle back to that conversation Lilia, Silver, Sebek and co. are having about Malenore for a minute.

Because what Lilia also calls Malenore is this:

Malenore is the only daughter to Queen Maleficia and she the ruling Lady of "Wild Rose Castle" (野ばら城). Which is known to Silver only as "Black Scale Castle" (黒鱗城).

In other words, Malenore is one of the most powerful noble women in the Twisted Wonderland, she is strongly associated with with Wild Roses/ Briar Roses, and on top of that described as the "most evil" princess by her own general (whether in jest or not is of little consequence).

And this description should ring very familiar after going over Crowley's introductory monolog. A noble, beautiful "Flower of Evil" as it were.

But if that is the truth, then the familiar way Crowley addresses Malenore can only mean that Crowley's true identity is Malenore's husband. Who else would be allowed to speak to her im such an intimate and familiar manner.

Malenore's husband whose status hasn't actually been confirmed, other than he is missing in some capacity. And while I have seen a many transcriptions of his name, no one seems to have gotten it right yet:

"竜眠公レヴァーン"

The Sleeping Dragon Lord Raven

And what is the associated animal of our dear Night Raven's headmaster?

A crow.

A corvid.

A raven.

Crowley did always had something of the mad hatter to him, didn't he? And he might just have something with a raven and a writing desk..

After all, a raven is nevar the same front to back as back to front.

And thus, at the end, we have the lost parents of a little dragon, summoning a human with no magical ability to this Twisted Wonderland - a human that cannot be influenced by blot.

Curious, curious...

Curious indeed...

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst #twst malleus #twst maleficia #twst malenore #twst crowley #twst raven #twst theory #twst analysis #jo's theory corner #this game is making me go insane #my conspiracy board is growing so muchhh #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twst silver

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happy-beeeps · 1 year

Note

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

#fic factory is OPEN BAYBEE #captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex x f!reader #requests #commander rex #rex x reader #clone trooper rex #tcw fic

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portraitofariel · 25 days

Text

S6 Scene: Claire and Sydney talk at the farmer’s market.

The River North farmer’s market is bustling with vendors and shoppers alike on a chilly December morning. Sydney skirts around a family of four, eyes glued to her phone but her attention ever-aware of the crowds. Between her protruding belly and sore breasts, even her long puffer coat feels like it’s smothering her. Texts from Carmy light up her screen with links to items for the nursery, and iPhone-exclusive apps like GamePigeon allow them to play Connect Four during his lunch break. She scoffs in jest after losing twice in a row.

*Ooh I expected better, Chef. 😂* He jokes.

She responds with a gif of Logan Roy shouting ‘fuck off’, while ordering duck breasts at the butcher’s counter.

*Such bullshit. Your kid’s got me so foggy, you’re actually winning for once.* She counters playfully with a smile that touches her own heart.

*You can’t blame everything on pregnancy brain, Amore. Not to mention you haven’t beaten me since the first trimester. Don’t be a sore loser lol*

She smacks her lips and murmurs “Fuck you.” Still unable to stop smiling. Three years ago, she couldn’t have imagined being this happy.

She gives a cursory glance to the double-band, emerald solitaire on her ring finger and her heart flutters—a feeling that never left since Carm first placed it there. With a twist of her lips she moves on to their produce haul for the week.

*Rematch? Oh and the cherrywood crib with the included mattress. Much better deal than the one from Crate & Barrel, Amore.* She types quickly, eyeing the last fresh basil plant on a nearby table.

*Heard, heard. Babygirl won’t be able to tell the difference, yeah? Target crib, it is.*

*To her, it’ll seem like the Ritz 😌.*

Carm responds twenty minutes later.

*Would you hate me if I bought this?*

She taps the link and it opens to a Charlie Brown-themed sheet set for their baby. She sputters in laughter, double-tapping the link to send a ‘haha’.

*Let’s not and say we did 😂. Sorry, Charlie.*

*Good grief.*

She shakes her head and slides her phone in her pocket.

Moving to the pastries, she’s trying to decide between apple streusel or tiramisu when she mistakenly bumps into a vaguely familiar young woman.

“Oh! I’m so sorry-”

“Sorry about that-” They both speak at the same time, only to recognize each other seconds later.

Syd’s breath catches for a moment but Claire interjects before her.

“Uh, hi. Sorry about that. It’s um, Sydney, right?” She asks, taking a tiny step back.

“Yeah, yeah, hello.” Syd replies. “Claire?”

“Mm-hmm.” She tightly smiles. “Yeah. It’s been … a couple years now. H-how are you?”

“Been a long time, yeah. I’m, uh, I’m good. Really good. And uh, ho-how are you? Doing good?”

“Doing good, just uh … working a lot. Same old, same old, you know?”

“Yup, same yeah.” Syd nods, easing back a bit.

A pause. Claire glances at her belly then her left hand.

“Wow, you, um - congratulations.” She gestures to her stomach. “You look gorgeous.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Thank you, thanks.”

Claire briefly hesitates.

“You’re welcome.” She tries to smile again. Instead her eyes flit to the desserts like a crutch.

Ancient history, Sydney thinks.

“Well um … I’m gonna-” Syd nudges over her shoulder.

“Gonna go with the tiramisu?” Claire chuckles faintly, shrugging her purse further up her shoulder.

“Yep.” Syd smiles in return.

A pause.

“Yeah … I should go, too, my boyfriend-” she points to the gentleman standing over by the citrus fruits, “is waiting for me.”

“Oh okay. Well, um, have a good day. Nice to …”

“You, too. Again, congrats to you and your husband.” She gives Sydney a knowing smile, saying everything with her eyes.

“Take care.” Syd lifts her hand in a wave as Claire walks away.

Turning her back to the pastry stand, Syd doesn’t see Claire glancing over her shoulder to look at her as she walks further away.

Sydney takes a deep breath and shakes off the awkward interaction, and purchases the apple streusel.

Distant thoughts of Claire fade just as quickly as their conversation occurred, disappearing the moment she loads the groceries in her car. She smiles to herself during the ride home, eyes forward and happier with her life than ever.

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one-and-a-half-yikes · 7 months

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This thought had been in my head before, and I didn't think about making a post about it till I saw a really dumb post I disagreed with.

Once again talking about Izuku having a crush on Ochako, while acting as if Izuku is an average shounen protag like all the others. Except for one thing...

While it can be stated that Izuku did at one point have a crush on Uraraka, and I'm not gonna dispute that, many have already pointed out how Izuku very quickly gets over it the more time he spends at U.A. And all of this is true, but there's one thing I haven't seen anyone point out yet and that's that all of Izuku's moments where we see him crushing on Ochako I treated like a gag.

There's a lot of moments from the earlier parts of the series so I didn't grab them all. But I'm gonna use some to make my case here.

this is literally the first panel where we see this happen, and right off it comes across less like a crush and more like...actually I don't know how to even describe that face...

But the point is that it doesn't really seem like the face of someone who's flustered (especially because we see Izuku get flustered at multiple other points and it looks nothing like this-), and he's barely blushing at all in this. The way that this scene is made, makes it seem like you're meant to treat this in jest. "Oh a teen boy having a crush on a girl, just a boy being a boy!" Yes. A boy being a boy. A teen boy who was previously bullied and ostracized by all his peers and who's only interaction with the opposite sex would have been his mom. I can't imagine why he's having this reaction. Anyways.

Okay now Izuku is flustered...but it's because of personal space? Not the girl in front of you? Huh. Okay. This happens again btw, during the first OVA (I think), where Uraraka in her excitement at being paired up with Izuku ends up in his personal space without consideration for his boundaries.

This continues on sparsely throughout random points in the story, until they just...stop. Completely. And this interesting, because every other time regarding IzuOcha specifically focuses on Uraraka and her feelings about Izuku. And it's never treated as a joke. Whereas with Izuku, you're meant to find it funny, but never highly important, or warranting you're full attention. It's just something that I find interesting, especially when you take into consideration how this parallels KiriMina and KamiJirou, and how for both boys and their feelings toward their respective love interests their feelings are treated again, with weight.

And like I said, Uraraka's emotions are treated seriously. We're given multiple moments to see her contemplate on this stuff. But never Izuku. Why? Because he's not important, it was always gonna be one-sided thing between them, imo I don't think, even if bkdk was never meant to be a thing, that Hori ever intended for this to be a deep, meaningful relationship between these two. That it was always never gonna happen. That's my two cents tho.

Not sure how to end this off, so yeah...if anyone wants to add anything or ask if I didn't explain something well enough lemme know cause I have no idea if I did 😅

#bkdk #bakudeku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #idk if this counts as a meta or not...

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thescribeoflostmemories · 1 year

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The Doll House

Yan! Modern Childe x 'pet'! Fem! reader x yan! modern Pantalone (Xtra Dessert!)

Minors do not interact or better yet, if you're uncomfortable with dark fiction. You may look away and nothing will be gone from you.

Thirsty fans, come git yer round 2 dessert. I know you guys have a separate stomach for it. Have a mood board for this fic too.

Warnings: R18+ Explicit content, Using Childe's actual name, Dub-con/non-con(?), bondage (ribbons), cosplay, use of titles/pet names: Sir, kitty, sweetie etc.., And more unnamable things to come. (+ Bad writing of smut)

This is my apology to you guys since I ran into some difficulty making the requests given in my inbox or chat, because I'll be busy for the next couple of days for personal reasons. - Puppeteer

"Y'all are thirsty, ps. Scribe doesn't know about this so please keep it between you and me." - Falaila

¶🗡️¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥🗡️¶

"Give me a little twirl, Darling." Pantalone commanded as you move your body around in the black lolita style cosplay.

"A-ah… " letting out a low moan as you took a step. Feeling the cat tail wag inside of your rear, no doubt that Pantalone got it just for his entertainment. Sweet chimes of bells ever bounce along with you as you get near the Regrator who sat upon a red velvet-y couch.

"Now, that's a good girl. Big improvement from last time." He smiled, having you on his lap, nipping at your exposed skin. Savoring the sight of you wearing the things he picked. Especially that collar of yours, customised embossed on the leather with his title. Hands roam around your body while your head rests on his chest. You couldn't do anything with your hands tied by a ribbon.

"Pan-!" Feeling the sharp pain on your bare bottom under your skirt making you yelp.

"Tsk, tsk, _. We talked about this, address me properly." Pushing up the frilly skirt before resting his hand on your butt cheek, rubbing it.

"I'm s-sorry, master." Whimpering as you buried your face against his chest out of humiliation.

"Mm, there we go." He hummed seemingly satisfied, it had been at least a few months after taking you in. His other gloved hand stroked your head, occasionally playing with the cat ear headband. Meanwhile, the hand that's on your ass teased you by pushing the tail a bit further in before rubbing your exposed cunt.

"Does my little kitten miss her master filling her up?" Teasing as to get a lewd reaction from you, while leaving love marks all over your neck. Knowing this would be enough to piss off Ajax once he comes back.

"We have all the time to ourselves, sweetie." Inserting his fingers in your sopping wet hole. "Oh, rose." He hissed when he felt you rubbing against him on his lap. Pulling his digits out and forcing you to lick it clean. Hesitant lips pried open as your tongue identifies the substance. “ Tasty?” Another jest, a humoured chuckle resonated from his throat.

He retreats his hands from your body, first you hear the jingle of his belt, then his zipper. It caused you to shiver in fear. " Don't be scared now." He mused before forcefully pulling you down on his lap, entering your warm entrance.

"Ngh… Master… It's too much..!" You were about to say his name again but rather not get humiliated. Tears welled up in your eyes as the pain slowly subsided into pleasure. He could feel you squeezing him tight, another spank is earned this time, his hand just squeeze your buttcheek.

"Shush, you take it as it is with pride." Kissing the side of your head before moving your hips to meet with his, letting your mouth make incoherent, lewd noises. What adds to your mortification is that the immoral act is on display to whomever enters or opens the door.

Jealous eyes met with his, the Regrator merely smirked and thrust his hips more. Hearing those sweet melodious moans from your lips satisfies him along with the saccharine tolls of the bells. Baby blue eyes that peered from the crevice of the door, stared coldly at him with an ill intent. His grip on your ass hasn't left, with one final thrust, he came inside of you. Some of his cum dribbled out, biting his lips as he felt you also came all over him.

"Mm, fuck… Who do you like better, doll. Me, Or a child?" He's asking a rhetorical question. Because he knows you'll choose him, right? It is also to taunt the little peeping tom in the room who made eye contact with him. His smile turned smug when he saw a child giving him the middle finger from the crack between the doors. In response to that, Pantalone's hand made contact with your pinkish butt cheek again earning another moan from your candied lips.

Before you could even speak, the door slammed open. "You fucking bastard, getting a head start!" Looking back at Ajax who had his shirt tattered a bit, he got into a fight earlier. While Pantalone just hummed and pulled you closer to his chest.

"Look, you're scaring her.." He cooed, kissing your forehead. It irked Ajax as you started to dread the sounds of him taking off his pants. "Oh, I'll fucking show you." Grumbled the 11th seat.

"W-wait-! I'm not ready- ah!" The cat tail is removed from your teased asshole as his cock slowly sinks in, replacing it. Letting out a loud groan, both men felt how your gummy walls clenched around them.

But that didn't stop the ginger haired combative man. "H-huu.. s-sir..!" He didn't hear your plea as he grabbed onto your bound hands from behind and used it to pull and push back into you.

"Fuck..! So, tight!" Ajax huff in your scent as your voice bounces off the room he can't even hear the sweet sounds of the bells placed on you.

Not seeing that scheming smile on Pantalone's face, he wasn't lying when he told you that he'll have more time with you than with Tartaglia. Especially when Ajax just came back from work. He figured that Pierro would assign the youngest to another turf for another shake down soon, leaving less time with you.

"Hope you don't mind working overtime, sweetheart. Unless you want us to breed you just before our wedding tomorrow."

#fatui x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #childe x y/n #genshin fanfic #yandere pantalone #yandere childe #genshin smut #Falaila's Dessert #Scribe's not here!

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lecliss · 28 days

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Just realized Vincent's character can kinda be summed up as "i can fix her" and horrendously failing

#'i can fix her' bro she is actively being made worse as we speak!!!!!#okay i jest but this did make me think about some stuff actually #vincent's honestly a guy that seems so. not human. like literally in that hes kinda a zombie and can transform into monsters #and then metaphorically in that hes canonically a 'natural loner' as nojima calls him and comes off as cold and admits hes just like that #but hes So. Fucking. Human in that he was in love and chased after a woman with a million red flags #and who frankly didnt deserve him and he butted into a situation that actually should have stopped being his business #but he continuously tried to do 'the right thing' and got himself screwed over for it #and proceeded to BLAME HIMSELF and try to fix 'his mistake'#like. whats more human than 'its my fault and i should have tried harder and done the right thing' WHEN WHAT HE SHOULD HAVE DONE #WAS GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE ONCE HE WAS TOLD TIME AND TIME AGAIN THAT ITS NONE OF HIS BUSINESS ESSENTIALLY #the more and more i break down vincent the more i realize like #wow. he kinda sucks. like not even just in a loser way but in like. yep! thats a human! way #thats a person who digs himself deeper and deeper into a hole thinking if i just dig a little deeper itll get better #and now hes six feet under in a grave :/ metaphorically. well. he does end up in a coffin but like. unrelated actually. huh.#okay i actually shouldnt call him a loser and say he sucks actually cuz i think he acts very realistically in terms of like #guy whos in love and thinks he can save her if he just talks enough. guy who thinks maybe this time will be enough to fix the situation #GUY WHO THINKS IF I SAY THE RIGHT THING ITLL FINALLY GET THROUGH TO HER *proceeds to reword the same statement a million times*#hes too human really. ohhhh my god im gonna lose it. OH MY GOD HES JUST SOME GUY #HES THE RESULT OF JUST SOME GUY TRYING TO BE A PROTAG BUT THEN HES HIT WITH CRUEL REALITY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #personal

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roohuh · 1 year

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Your Grave

Part 32 of Year Seven in Obliviate

Ominis X MC

Summary: You find Ominis digging up something from a grave

Warnings: kissing

Waking in the modest bedroom you and Ominis now share, you search in immediate panic for Ominis. The indentation in the bed where he once lay is quickly cooling. You bolt out of the empty cottage wand in hand ready for anything.

“Ominis!” You scream in panic. Only to see his head poke up from next to a gravestone. Letting out a long steady breath you laugh at the sight of the man kneeling next to the grave, up to his elbows in dirt holding a small muddy black box. The sun is not far in the sky, pink blushing clouds meander by.

“What on earth are you doing?” You laugh. Holding a hand behind his back he stands and kisses you on the cheek.

“Just some early morning grave robbing.” Craning your neck you try to see what he dug up and is now hiding. He moves his body blocking your vision while he whispers,

“Not yet, love.” Eyes flicking to the headstone you read your own name inscribed with the words “dearly loved beneath.” You sit in front of the grave, solemnly taking in the sight. Laying a hand on the smooth stone you wonder what would have happened if you actually were dead. Would Ominis eventually have moved on and met another?

“I really was dead…” you breathe. Gently Ominis sits next to you taking your cold hands in his.

“You were. We should go and see your parents today, they had a funeral for you a couple of months ago.” A pit starts to form in your stomach, you lay your head against Ominis for comfort.

“What am I supposed to say?” Brushing the hair from your eyes he traces around your face with his fingers then kisses your forehead tenderly.

“The truth.”

“I don’t know if I am ready to talk about the truth. What if they make me leave this place? I will not be separated from you again.” His arm circles your waste seemingly deep in thought. Watching his face you think about how handsome he is. The night before he had shaved his face and let you cut his hair, you did your best but you are certainly no barber, despite your best efforts he is still handsome as ever. Breaking your admiration he comes out with,

“Then marry me.” Lifting your head you scan his face for any sign of jest.

“Do you mean it?” There is a slight quiver in your voice. Lovingly he smiles, soft sightless eyes seemingly fixed upon you.

“I meant this to be more grand. You deserve the most grand of proposals but…” he reaches into his pocket producing a familiar small black box. Getting on one knee before you, he kisses the back of your hand.

“MC, I do not deserve it. I can only try my best each day to be worthy of you. But… I want to fall asleep every night with you and awake every morning by your side. I want to share my entire life with you. The good, the bad, and the mundane. I want to devote my days to fulfilling your every want, I want your dreams to be my dreams. MC, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Opening the box he reveals a beautiful antique ring delicately made and set with a black stone. Taking his face in your hands you kiss Ominis freely shedding tears.

“Yes.” You whisper joysouly. Picking you up by the waste Ominis spins you around laughing and crying. Tenderly you are placed back upon the earth as you are peppered with happy kisses. He takes your hand, sliding the ring on your finger.

“I know this is not traditional, but my Aunt Noctua gave it to me when I was a boy, before she disappeared. If you do it like it we can…” cutting him off you proclaim,

“It is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. Made even more beautiful by the sentimental value it holds. I will wear it with such pride.” Again and again he kisses you,

“I do not deserve this. I do not deserve you.” You put an affectionate hand over his lips.

“Ominis, I will not hear that anymore. If I say I love you it is because I think you do deserve it… I love you... Ominis I love you!” Your voice is pleading, willing him to see in himself everything you see. Embracing you, his forehead goes to yours. Your arms twine around his neck as you absorb the moment feeling as if you could die from happiness. Sebastian wonders out and groans in mock disgust at the twoof you,

“Back to the nauseating behavior I see.” Not even Sebastian’s teasing can dampen your spirits, lifting your hand showing off the ring.

“Now I understand why you wanted to hide this!” You call to Sebastian.

“You proposed already? We had a whole plan!” Sebastian chides Ominis.

“You knew about the ring?” Ominis moans his palm thumping against his forehead. Laughing apologetically you explain,

“Under your pillow is a terrible hiding place.”

“When we’re you in my room?”

“When your mother took you we searched your room.”

“And you thought I was under my pillow?”

“Well not exactly…”

“She was giddy to go through your things.” Sebastian rats you out. Shooting Sebastian a stern look.

“I did not know it was intended for me or for you to propose so it was still a surprise.” Bending down to kiss you Ominis laughs shaking his head.

“I guess I will have to love you despite you ruining my surprise.” Another groan from Sebastian.

“Anne sent me out here to tell you two that breakfast is ready. So when you are done snogging I will be inside.” Eager to tell Anne the news you pull Ominis inside mentally noting to make Anne sit and rest while you clean the dishes.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #fanfic #harry potter hogwarts game #ominis x you #ominis fluff #hogwarts legacy ominis #sebastian sallow

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stardusksx · 7 months

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BECAUSE OF YOU, spencer reid x named!oc

— part three.

( summary! ) Spencer & Lydia where best friends, until they weren’t. Having to see each other at work everyday was certainly an exercise in professionalism, but when Reid is arrested in Mexico they can no longer ignore each other.

( warnings! ) Canon typical violence, discussions of drug use, best friends to lovers with a whole load of angst in the middle, dysfunctional family dynamics, talks of past neglect, future mentions of sex/smut, let me know if I missed anything! )

Virginia, 2006.

LYDIA’S PAPER CUP BURNED THE PALMS OF HER HANDS, A SLIGHTLY WELCOMED SENSATION AGAINST THE COLD THAT WAS NUMBING HER FINGERTIPS. The actual coffee itself was only lukewarm at best now— a result of her stupid alarm clock once again running out of batteries and failing to wake her up. Spencer knocking on her door was what had finally brought her out of her slumber, and when she’d answered it with a bed head that clearly said she wasn’t work ready, he’d merely offered her an amused smile and told her to meet him outside the station while he got the drinks. A saint, really.

She’d only known him about half a year now, the same amount of time she’d been at the BAU, and he'd been more than a life saver when it came to making her feel welcome. After his initial reservations, of course. It had taken her a moment to break past his introversion, but once she’d gotten him talking about War and Peace (which she had read, thank you very much) he hadn’t stopped since.

“Busy today.” He observed, throwing the words over his shoulder as they weaved through the morning rush hour of the tube station. There wasn’t enough room to walk side by side just yet, but he was carrying on their conversation anyway.

Lydia snorted slightly, “You think it’s busy everyday.”

“It is busy everyday.” He craned his neck to look at her, subsequently bumping into someone and stuttering an apology. She tried to hide her amusement.

“Careful, it’s busy.” She teased, falling into step besides him as they started up the stairs.

He sent her a halfhearted glare, which lived on his features for all of two seconds before he launched into the statistics of Virginia’s population and their work shift patterns. Even after months of being around him everyday, she still wasn’t over the awe of just how much information was packed into his head. They were halfway up the steps when a boy stopped them— more Spencer than her, because he said his name more like a fact than a question; “You’re Dr.Reid.”

He didn’t look like he could be older than twenty, hands gripping the rucksack on his shoulder like a lifeline. He was timid, a soft spoken voice and flickering eyes.

Spencer looked confused, “Do I… know you?”

“N-no, I just know what you do.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed further and, as he slowly dragged out an “okay?” while turning to leave, Lydia almost snorted at his awkward dismissal. Anyone else would question further, but he looked like he wanted to get out of the situation as fast as possible. The boy persisted, however, “Look, I saw you at George Town afew weeks ago, you gave a lecture on sexual sadism.”

That seemed to ease Spencer, who gained a pleased expression at the mention of his academics. He nodded his head, giving a self-deprecating smile, “I’m not much of a public speaker.”

“I-I don’t know, you seemed cool.” The boy's gaze flickered between him and the floor, and Lydia smiled quietly at the display. She knew validation like this meant a lot to Spencer.

“You look a little young to go to George Town.” He said, no longer in a rush to get away.

“I’m a junior at northwest high school.”

“And you just go to lectures on anger exhortation for fun?” He said it half in jest, half in genuine approval.

“I don’t have a lot of friends.”

The expression on Spencer’s face once again threatened to elicit a laugh from Lydia. He asked, “So, you're interested in profiling?”

“Yeah, I mean, I read a lot, true crime— like graphic novels, mostly. They’re all on, like, whether or not evil exists, nature vs. nurture. So I figured it’d be smart to hear it from an expert… So you said a lot of them kill prostitutes?”

Lydia looked up from where she’d been studying her coffee cup in a feigned attempt to give them privacy. That was an oddly specific question.

Spencer nodded, “Number one serial killer target, actually.”

“Is that for sex or because they think they’re dirty and need to be punished?” His eye contact with Spencer lingered for a few more seconds, as if he was attempting to gauge the man's reaction to his words. Like a child who had stolen a cookie from the jar trying to see if their parents had picked up on it.

A cold feeling washed over her, as if someone had injected shards of ice into her bloodstream. There was innocent curiosity, and then there was… well, the non-innocent kind. She could see Spencer register it too, because instead of responding he asked a question of his own, “Were you waiting here for me?”

“What would it mean if they were stabbing someone and cutting off their hair?”

Deflection. Lydia began to take mental notes— the colour of his hair, the clothes he was wearing, how dark circles rimmed his eyes. The boy was shifting on his feet, a clear sign of how anxious he was. Lydia couldn’t tell if it was because of the conversation or something else.

She was willing to bet it was something else.

“I’ve… I’ve never heard of a case like that,” Spencer was quick on his feet, somehow managing to shove aside his own anxiety about who was possibly standing before them, “Do you want to come to the BAU with me, maybe talk to some of my other team members?”

He posed it as an innocent question, one academic merely helping out another. Lydia saw his true intention, and it seemed like the boy did too. He began to head back down the stairs, “I’ve got to get to school.”

“Give me your name and your number and I’ll call you—” Spencer began to follow him, but he’d already disappeared into the crowd. He glanced at her helplessly, and she wordlessly nodded, a silent agreement to get to the BAU as quickly as possible.

Spencer had tried to hastily sketch the boy, but after a minute of watching him struggle to get the eyes right Lydia had taken over. She’d done a sketch artist class for extra credit in college— her childhood interest in drawing making it an easy way to gain extra points. As they stepped off the elevator, JJ offered them a greeting which went unacknowledged. He questioned, “Who’s your contact in the DC police?”

“Victor Barnes,” She followed behind them, “Why, do you need me to speak to him?”

Spencer didn’t respond, merely picked up the phone and asked for the man JJ had mentioned. Gideon walked towards them, noting their tense expressions. As Spencer spoke on the phone, she offered up a brief explanation, “This kid stopped Reid on our way to work, asking weird questions about the murder of prostitutes— specifically ones who were stabbed and had their hair cut.”

Just as she finished explaining, Spencer asked if there were any recent murders matching that M.O. He was quiet for a moment before he said, “When was the most recent victim?”

Dread filled her, any doubt that the boy at the station was just a teenager with slightly gruesome interests had now vanished. He finished up the phone call, “I’ll explain when I see you, I’ll meet you in a half hour.”

“What’s going on?” Gideon’s arms folded over his dark dress shirt, his neutral voice veiling any concern.

“I think we may have a serial killer,” He answered, brows furrowed, “And I think I just let him get away.”

⭈

After a brief trip with Morgan and Emily to speak with some possible witnesses, afew girls managed to identify the sketch with someone they’d seen out a few times. Allegedly, the boy they’d seen at the station had been hanging around the streets but never actually engaged in any sexual activity with the prostitutes himself. He’d just watch, they’d said.

In a way, she thought that it perhaps made him seem even more likely to have committed the crimes. After all, there wouldn’t be much gratification in just watching— there had to be some sort of act. Some sort of purpose behind going out of his way to observe sex workers. If he wasn’t engaging in actual sex with them, it could indicate a level of disgust, in turn, motivating the violence to kill. Yet, he was a teenaged boy, so they also couldn’t rule out the simple possibility that he was exploring his sexual desires through observation.

Either way, the mere confirmation he’d been in the area of the killings wasn’t enough to declare him guilty, and it also hadn’t brought them much closer to uncovering his identity. When she’d arrived back at the BAU, she’d found Spencer and Garcia in her bat cave attempting to figure out that information.

“This is impossible.” Spencer gave an exasperated sigh, and Lydia raised a brow at his clear display of frustration that normally wasn’t so easy to draw out.

Garcia scoffed, “Says you.”

“There’s nothing in the juvenile offender records.” He defended, his voice cracking slightly.

“So you think like a high school kid.”

He refuted, “I was twelve and I hadn’t been through puberty in high school.”

“Okay,” Garcia blinked, “Reset. We think like a highschool student, you think like a profiler.”

Lydia admitted slightly sheepishly, “I went to a private school from fourth grade to graduation, I’m not exactly the picture of an average highschool experience, either.”

“Reset the reset, I think like a highschool student, you guys think like the profilers.” She waved a hand, “He said he was a junior, the first rule when speaking to an authority figure, lie and say you’re older. He’s probably… a sophomore.”

Lydia nodded— she tended to stick to the rules in school, but the urge to break them had certainly crossed her mind more than once. Her obsession with proving herself grades wise had left little time for things like lying to authority figures, but she had a dorm mate who would tell her millions of stories about doing just that.

“Okay…” Spencer said contemplatively, “He was wearing a coat that was lambs wool but it didn’t look vintage, it looked brand new, like it had been tailored to him. Which means money… which means….”

“Private school,” Lydia said dryly, “Guess I’m back on the side of tapping into his mindset.”

She placed a hand on the back of Garcia’s chair, thinking for a moment. She remembers an incident of meeting one of her Grandmother’s friend’s grandson’s— he’d been talking about the school he went to which was in the same state, but a different district. She hadn’t heard of it before. “He said he went to northwest high, it’s unlikely he’d know the name of a highschool if he didn’t at least attend another one close to the area of it.”

Spencer nodded, “Pull up the district for northwest high, see if there are any private schools.”

Gracia typed for a second before nodding, “Three.”

They needed to narrow it down further. Spencer said, “What about ones that offer electives at George Town?”

“One; Morton School.”

He nodded, pleased, “Pull up the Sophomore class.”

An array of teenage faces were displayed on the screen, and it only took a few moments of scrolling before a familiar one popped up, “Wait, wait. Stop.”

Spencer pointed to a boy in the middle, and Garcia brought up his personal information, “Nathan Harris.”

Spencer's mouth hung open like he couldn’t quite believe it, “We got him.”

She offered him a relieved smile, “Let’s go tell Gideon.”

⭈

Lydia stayed behind as a small team was sent out to bring Nathan in, and upon Gideon’s request, she was preparing to sit in on his psychological interview.

“Is it a good idea? For me to be in there?” Lydia said apprehensively, “I just think he’d be far more comfortable without a woman present, I don’t think we’ll get much from him otherwise.”

He gave her a knowing look, “Trust me on this. Plus, I need you to monitor his micro expression while I focus on talking to him. You might pick up on something I miss.”

Lydia sent him a one of reluctant agreement, and he pushed open the door into the office Nathan was waiting in. There was already a bearded man in the corner, watching silently as the younger boy's eyes darted between him and the floor. His gaze flickered up to her and Gideon, and his anxiousness seemed to increase.

“My names Gideon, this is agent Baylor,” He gestured to her as they took their seats, and she offered up a small smile to placate his nerves. It didn’t seem to work— which she anticipated.

“You were with Dr.Reid at the station,” He said, “You’re friends?”

Lydia nodded, “We are.”

“So, he must trust you then?”

She momentarily wondered what it was about Spencer that Nathan gravitated towards— yes, they were both timid in nature and appeared to have some shared academic interests, but Spencer clearly hadn’t shared in his darker fantasies. Why did he go to Spencer, specifically, for help? “I think he does,” She answered honestly, knowing he’d really been looking for the assurance that he could trust her too. It seemed to be enough to calm the boy slightly. “You’re okay with answering some questions for us?”

He nodded, ducking into himself slightly. He couldn’t hold her gaze for longer than a few seconds at a time, and she ruled it out as an indicator of lying— it seemed to simply be a part of his mannerisms. Perhaps nervousness, too, but that was natural for any form of questioning whether guilty or not.

“So, I don’t wet the bed or start fires…”

Gideon’s mouth lifted up at the side humorously, “I see you’ve read Dr.Harris warning signs of psychopathy.”

“Yeah… is that wrong?”

“No, it’s healthy. You’re intellectually curious, you want to understand how you’re feeling.” Gideon’s voice was calming, assuring, “Tell me what worries you.”

“Just been, um, thinking about stuff.”

“About hurting women?”

His eyes briefly flickered to Lydia, and he looked more uncomfortable with her now— like he’d forgotten about her connection to Spencer and she was back to being a complete stranger he couldn’t seem to humanise. Yet, strangely, he didn’t look like he held resentment towards her. More like shame. He looked back to Gideon as he admitted, “Yeah.”

“Have you ever hurt anyone?”

He glanced upwards, like he was recalling a memory, “I killed a bird once. I know that’s on the list, it’s one of the signs.”

Gideon showed no sign of disgust, “Why did you kill the bird?”

“Cause I was sad.”

“How’d you feel afterwards?”

His brows were woven, like he was fighting against it, “Better.”

“Why?”

He seems to struggle internally, “I don’t know. Cause it was dead and I was still alive.”

Gideon nodded, “Is that why you want to hurt women? To feel better?”

“I don’t know...” He whispered.

“Have you ever seen a woman naked?”

Lydia looked down at her notebook, making it look like she wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation so that he felt less insecure about discussing it. There was a pause.

“Don’t worry about them,” Gideon said, then added, “No offence.”

The man in the corner of the room responded with a “Non taken.” She remained quiet, like she hadn’t heard Gideon speak, like she hadn’t been listening intently enough to hear him. She wrote things down to look busy.

“Afew years ago at my moms med school, her students get cadavers.”

She could see Gideon’s fingers moving against his brow in the corner of her eye, “So, how’d that make you feel?”

“Good. Excited.” She chanced a glance up, and he trembled slightly, “It’s sick.”

“Perfectly natural for a boy to feel excited if he sees a naked body, even a cadaver.” Gideon said dismissively, like it wasn’t something to worry about.

“Yeah, but now that’s the only part that I think about.”

Lydia’s pen paused over her paper for a brief second, then she went back to writing so he wouldn’t pick up on her change in demeanour.

Gideon persevered, “Which part?”

He swallowed, “Them being dead.”

“So when you watch the prostitutes you don’t imagine having sex with them?”

“No, I think about cutting them.”

He was startlingly honest— it was making her believe in his innocence a little more, because despite the unlikely hood of all the evidence of an actual serial killer also happening to align with a lot of the impulses he was describing, it didn’t make sense for him to be so forthcoming with his mentality if he was guilty.

“Why?”

“I don’t know… maybe to look inside. Or sometimes I think about feeling their blood in my hands and letting it flow through my fingers.”

He was painting a vivid image, but it wasn’t exactly an unusual one for people with similar impulses to conjure up. Nathan was speaking with shame, an understanding that the things he craved was wrong. She wondered if it was the violence that did it, or if that was only a means to an end. Was it simply the fact of them being dead, of being completely malleable to his control, that he desired?

“Does it ever make you climax just by thinking of that?”

He didn’t directly answer, merely gave the smallest incline of his head, “I know I’m crazy.”

Gideon didn’t blink, “Did I say that?”

“No, but what do you call pictures in your head that you can’t make go away?”

The silence lingered for afew seconds before Gideon gave his answer, then began to wrap up the interview with some more assuring words to Nathan. When they exited the office, the man gave her an exhausted look. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, “We’ll debrief it in afew minutes, I need a break.”

Lydia nodded, a sigh dragging from her lips as she headed towards the desks, Spencer already perched against his and watching her like he had been waiting on her return this whole time.

“What do you think?” His knuckles covered his mouth.

“I don’t know,” She murmured, “It’s kind of fascinating… the impulses he’s talking about are consistent with a psychopathic state of mind but if he’s being genuine about the fear… that’s a guilty conscience. It’s a clear conflict. Being able to feign guilt isn’t unheard of, but at the same time… I’m struggling to see any tells which indicate he’s not being genuine.”

Spencer was watching her with an almost hopeful expression, and she let out a small sigh, “There’s a lot we don’t understand about the human mind yet, it’s not black and white, we can’t apply the same theories to everyone so… it’s not impossible that he’d be able to still feel all these other human emotions that aren’t consistent with psychopathy. But… if he didn’t do this, didn’t kill all those people,” She shook her head with furrowed brows, “I think he will, eventually. Impulses like the ones he’s having, they aren’t quite. They’re loud and take over everything else. Even the conscience.”

She could tell it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His head ducked slightly, staring down at his hands in silence. Lydia watched him for a moment, observing his dejected state with furrowed brows.

“Can I ask you something?” She said finally.

He hummed, looking at her with an expression that attempted to appear impassive. The way he chewed on his lip, however, was a give away that he was anything but.

“What is it about Nathan? What’s making you feel responsible for him?” She didn’t pose her question with any judgement, mere genuine curiosity. Over the last few months they’d been on a fair few cases together, and she’d never seen him so emotionally invested— especially with a supposed perpetrator.

Spencer blinked, searching her features for a moment as if he was looking for any sign she would scrutinise him. When he didn’t seem to find any, he relented, “I remember what it was like being a kid and having a brain that worked a hundred miles ahead of everyone else. It was… scary. Lonely. I never had… I never had the kind of thoughts he’s talking about, but I feel like I understand him. And he wants help, I believe that. I believe that whatever it is that’s going on with him, he’s trying to fight it. Shouldn’t we… shouldn’t we help people who need it? Even if… you know…”

“Of course we should,” She said softly, “And we are, you are. I bet no one’s shown him the level of empathy you have in a long time. Maybe not even ever. He’s been stuck in his head alone for god knows how long, and you’re giving him an outlet. Whatever happens here, whether we find out he did this or not, he’ll get the help that he needs. Gideon’s already talking to his mom about what sort of resources we can get involved for him.”

Spencer said quietly, “I always struggle with that… the empathy side of the job.”

“You’re doing fine at it now.” She offered him a reassuring smile, “Sometimes we can relate to things, and other times we can’t. I think that’s what makes a team work— some cases will resonate with one of us more than it will the rest, and while that person can provide empathy and personal insight, the rest of us can have a more detached and critical viewpoint. It helps us cover all bases.”

He stared at her for a moment, then his shoulders relaxed from their hunched state. He looked back to his hands, nodding, before his gaze returned to her. “Thank you.” His quiet words were followed by that slightly awkward smile of his.

⭈

Lydia spent the rest of her day at her desk, running over the profile and seeing if there was anything she could think of that could help to narrow it down. She managed a few more suggestions to Hotch before JJ did a press release, and it wasn’t long before the domino effect took place. With the inside knowledge of other women who had possibly come in contact with the killer, alongside a female politician who matched the identified characteristics with someone she knew, the team had apprehended the killer.

It wasn’t Nathan, and thankfully, Gideon had arranged for him to get the treatment he needed.

Lydia nudged Spencer’s foot with her own— it was after hours, and they were the only ones remaining in the bullpen. Hotch was situated in his office with paper work, Garcia still somewhere in the building. He was reclined in his chair, shoes against her desk, staring at the ceiling. “Hey,” She said, “You okay?”

He hummed, “Yeah, just…” His brows weaved, “Long day.”

She watched him quietly, “You worried about Nathan?”

Spencer was silent for a moment before he nodded, “He’s just a kid, and he’s scared. I wish I could… help more.”

“I think you helped him more today than anyone else has in a long time.” She sat up to look at him better, and he lowered his gaze from the ceiling to her, “You could have walked away from him earlier, and he would have been completely alone in all those thoughts he’s got going on. Because of you, he’s getting help. There’s going to be a whole support system around him now, and maybe he won’t feel better for a long time yet, but he’ll get there. You've done everything you could.”

While it didn’t fully alleviate the tension from him, Spencer offered her a grateful smile. “I know, I just…”

“I know.” She said empathetically. Even when you’ve done everything you possibly can, there will always be a side of you that wishes you could rewrite the very fabric of logic and reverse all the negatives that are still left lingering. But that wasn’t logical, and sometimes you just had to live with the anxieties until they didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“Come one,” She hit both of them with her scarf, “Us three, we’re hitting the town.”

Lydia let out a snort, “The town?”

“No offence Garcia, but I don’t think I’d make the best company right now.”

Spencer’s attempt at declining her offer went ignored— apparently it wasn’t an optional affair. “Oh, no. Up. Up. Do not make me hurt you.”

Lydia didn’t try to hide her laughter as she swooped down to pick up her bag. Garcia couldn’t hurt a fly. Spencer reluctantly pulled his feet off of her desk, a small smile playing on his lips. No one could say no to Garcia.

The three of them made their way out of the building— Garcia was insisting on driving, wanting to show off her new car she dubbed Esther. Spencer’s phone rang just as she opened her door. “What?” He spoke with a shaky voice, “Uh… stay— stay where you are, I’m calling an ambulance.”

⭈

Spencer’s hands shook as he moved a towel between them, numbly attempting to clean away the blood stains. “Hey.” She said quietly, taking it from him to do it herself— he let her, brows furrowed while his gaze remained on the crimson stains. Lydia had always thought that the shade of blood was the most vivid colour in existence, demanding to be seen in the loudest of ways. It was a physical embodiment of the harshest emotions, like all bad things were tied to the sight of it. She didn't like that side of the job— not that anybody did, really, but her stomach for such sights hadn’t come easily. “You saved his life, you know? Paramedics said he wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Spencer swallowed, “He wanted me to let him die.”

“No,” She shook her head slightly, “He didn’t want to hurt people, and suicide is the only option he knew to make sure he didn’t. I don’t think Nathan wanted to die, Spencer, he wouldn’t have tried to get help if he did. I think the thoughts just became too much, and he needed a way to silence them that would be quick.”

“What if… what if I’ve put more people at risk in the future?”

“You haven’t, because he was wrong,” She said softly, “There are other options. They’ll give him the help he needs in hospital, and they won’t let him go until he’s no longer a danger to the public. You saved a life today, Spencer, but that doesn’t mean that you're now accountable for what he does with it.”

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. His hands were as clean as they could get for now, and when he took the towel back so he could discard it, he offered her a tired but grateful smile. “Thank you.”

She offered him a smile back, “Are you ready to go home? Morgan said he’d drop us off at our apartments.”

He nodded tiredly, the weight of the last few days heavy on his shoulders. She nudged his shoulder slightly, hoping to give him something else to focus on so he didn’t fall back into the hurricane of thoughts in his head, “So, I finally managed to finish Star Trek.”

His head snapped towards her, “What? But I’ve been trying to get you to watch it with me for weeks, I wanted to be able to point out how the—”

Lydia listened to him talk, an amused smile on her features. The tail lights of Derek’s SUV flickered as he unlocked it, and they got in the back seat behind the older man and Garcia. There was a sense of belonging in moments like this, when the cases had wrapped up and they were riding the melancholy of making the streets that little bit safer. It settled something inside of her— the idea that she was finally gaining some sort of clarity over her own future. She could see herself doing this in the long run, and it was the clearest picture of what was to come she’d ever been able to have.

It felt safe. Secure. Settled. She had been wanting that ever since she was eight years old, when she was ripped from the care of her father to live with her grandparents.

Finally, she was getting there.

#spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #matthew grey gubler

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denim-mixtapes · 2 years

Note

I know it's around 1:51 am where I'm at but i have this idea for a request stuck in my head and it won't leave <3

(Established relationship) Eddie x reader where they go to one of Eddie's shows and afterwards walks up to him and is like, "hi! I'm a big fan- could I get your autograph?" and he's basically a blushing mess and he's like "sweetheart-" but gives you an autograph anyways- just. just pure fluff <3

OKAY I LOVE THIS. So much that it might?? Already kind of be part of one of the long WIPs I've been working on? BUT it's different enough to justify also posting this so YES HELLO Pls enjoy <3<3 Pairing: Eddie Munson/GN!Reader Word Count: 519 Warnings: one single swear, just,,, the fluffiest fluff. It's gross really.

You’ve never seen Eddie happier than he is now, high off of the adrenaline of a show and being approached by people who actually showed up to see him play. Friends approach to congratulate him on a great concert, strangers who just came out for a drink but stayed for the band coming up to get more information on them, he relishes it all. This is the first show they’ve played outside of the hideout, and in comparison to that usual crowd of five (plus you), this one is impressive.

You hang back by the bar, sipping your drink and watching with pride as Dustin Henderson and the current Hawkins High Hellfire Club crowd your boyfriend and talk his ear off about Corroded Coffin’s set. When they say their goodbyes and head home you spot your window. Downing the rest of the drink, you set your empty glass on the bartop before making your way over to the band. The rest of the guys see you approach, but Eddie has his back turned, busy with packing up his guitar and unplugging everything from the amp.

After a quick second to appreciate the way the soft leather of his pants hugs his ass, you sidle up beside him and tap his shoulder.

“Eddie Munson?” You ask, your tone rich with affection and laced with a giggle as you pretend to be a stranger. “Sorry to bother you, I’m such a huge fan.”

He greets you over his shoulder, a soft “hey, one sec,” still not aware that it’s you, and stands, turning to you with a confident, almost smug look. You grab a sharpie from your back pocket and hold it to your chest with a hopeful smile, and as soon as his eyes land on you his expression melts into something more familiar. Soft. Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” He practically purrs, reaching for you with grabby hands, fingers hooking into your belt loops and dragging you forward with a radiant smile. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I always do,” you coo, savoring the deep blush that spreads over his cheeks. He always gets like this with you. On stage and in front of anyone else, he drips confidence. Every seemingly unpredictable move he makes is calculated, assured. Every cocky smile or quirk of the eyebrow has intention. With you? He crumbles. You compliment him and his complexion goes as red as a rose (and he sure is pretty as one, too). Leaning in to kiss his cheek, your heart swells when his color deepens even more. “But this one was the best one yet.”

Eddie shakes his head, his hair whipping around his face and tickling your cheeks. You’re both laughing when he comes to a stop, and he looks at the floor, mumbling, “you always say that.”

“‘Cause you just keep getting better, baby.” Once again, you hold up the sharpie between you, and he rolls his eyes, playfully shoving you away in jest. “I’m serious about that autograph.”

“Gimme that.” He snatches the pen from your hand and uncaps it with his teeth. “Let’s add one to the collection.”

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things reader insert #eddie munson fluff #drabble #soulsellby #eddie drabble

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aritsukemo · 7 months

Text

A Second Chance | Part One

Yuichiro Tokito x GN Drug Addict Reader

Warnings: Drugs are very vaguely implied but may be more heavily implied in the next part! Read at your own risk!

A/N: This is my first fic on here so I'm both nervous and excited! Thank you to my good friend 2pinksouls for listening to my long rambles about this as well as helping me with the choosing title ideas and giving me the motivation to complete this!

Part One | Part Two | Pink's Wattpad Account

Soft, irregular beats resonate throughout the once silent apartment as the sound is just barely heard over the thundering rain. It's melody travels throughout the entrance way, making it's way into the sweet smelling living room where the young seventeen year old, Yuichiro Tokito, sits comfortably on his plush sofa with a book in hand. As the irksome noise slips into his ears and draws his attention, mint green eyes subconsciously drift to the clock which reads 11:27pm—way too late to be expecting any visitors, he thinks.

He tries his best to ignore it at first, shrugging it off and drifting his attention back to the dank colored pages that were stained with words that most people would have trouble comprehending. His eyes scan over the text, his hand wandering down to wrap his delicate fingers around his small cup that was filled with steaming black tea with a hint of almond milk, his favorite, as he's once again absorbed in the mystery. He had lent the book from a coworker and was already pretty far in. Long having read past the overly foreshadowed murder and the annoyingly long investigation process that they dolled up with unnecessarily complex words and other plot elements, and finally getting into the long-awaited trial process which was, supposedly, the 'bestest-most-heart-throbbing-most thrilling-most satisfying' part of the book—or so his colleagues jest.

Knock. Knock.

He groans, his concentration breaking once more and his patience thinning like a rope on the brink of snapping, not that one could blame him. It was late at night, a Tuesday, technically a school night if he were to be so childish to say, and he lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. There was literally no reason for someone to be bothering him at this hour so who—

"Hey, Yui.." A brief, timorous chuckle escapes your lips, "It's been a while, huh?"

Oh hell no.

With his face scrunching and his hand now tightly gripping tightly gripping his door, Yuichiro attempts to slam it in your face only for his failure to ring through the apartment as the sound of your pained exhalations. You had put your foot through the doorway just in time, successfully preventing him from closing it on you. Unfortunately, it was at the cost of your poor foot which had been painfully squished between the doorframe and the door itself.

With clenched teeth, you tried your best to ignore the throbbing of your foot as you flash Yuichiro a wrinkled smile through the crack of the door, "Yui--"

"Go away," You wince. The sheer tone and volume of his voice speaks bounds, you're the last person he wants to see right now, but you can't give up yet. After all, he's the only option you have left..

"Please, I just want to talk- Well, not really 'talk' but more of uhm..ask a favor.." Yuichiro's eyes widen. You want to ask him a favor? Despite everything, you actually had the audacity to come here and attempt to ask him to do something for you?

"Forget it," He snarls, "Now go away before I call the cops."

"Please, Yui!" You take a shaky breath, "..Please, hear me out. I promise, it's not what you think."

He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't hear you out. Hell, he shouldn't even be wasting his breath talking to you right now. But with you, staring at him through the crack of the door, your eyes begging for reconsideration and your face and hair seemingly drenched like some wet puppy..

Yuichiro sighs, "I'm giving you ten seconds. That's it," He keeps his hand firm on the doorknob, making it painfully clear of his intentions of keeping you out, "Talk."

"Right! Uhm- Look, I know you're probably still mad. I mean, who wouldn't be mad at a person for doing..what I did--"

"Eight..seven--"

"Okay, okay! I know we aren't on the best of terms right now and you probably hate my guts but--!"

"Five. Four."

"Agh-! Don't speed up!" Your voice involuntarily raises in pitch before immediately coming back down to it's usual tone, "I- I was just wondering if--!"

"Two..one. We're done here," And with that, Yuichiro kicks your foot away—you letting out a small 'Hey!' in term—before quickly closing and locking the door. Your annoying knocks return, albeit this time they're more frequent, more frantic, downright rowdy and obnoxious which makes them hard to ignore.

How irritating.

"Please, Yui! Come back! You're all I have left to turn to! I'm begging you!" Your shout, your voice sounding small compared to your loud knocking, "I have nowhere else to go!"

He halts, "What do you mean you have nowhere else to go? Go home."

"I can't! I was kicked out and.." You pause, mumbling, "..It's complicated.. Can I please, please just stay here for the night? I promise I won't be a bother!"

"You've got to be kidding," Yuichiro replies under his breath, "No way."

"Yuichiro, you don't understand! My brother kicked me out and I have no money! Hell, I- I don't even have a car to sleep in! I have nothing, nowhere to go, and no one to turn to! Please, please, please let me stay the night! I'll.. I'll do anything!"

Anything. Heh, what another hilariously tasteless joke. To say you would do anything is both humorous and exasperated. After all, you can't do anything, or at least, not what he wants you to do. You can't turn back time and prevent yourself from doing what you did, you can't go back and be there for him when he needed you most, you can't go back and wrap your arms around him and comfort him after you left him all alone. You can't do anything.

And yet, Yuichiro finds himself hesitant to walk away, to pack up his book and tea and go to bed and tune you out until you eventually give up and go away. For some reason, he's hesitant to leave you wet and alone in the rain like you did to him.

And so, he walks back over to the door and slowly cracks it open.

"Do you really have no place to go?"

Voice reduced to a mere whisper, Yuichiro's unreadable eyes scan your surprised expression, trying his best to find even the smallest lie—the smallest excuse—that would convince him to close this door and not look back.

Unfortunately, he doesn't which resulted in him staring into your pretty eyes for longer than he probably should've.

"Yeah.." You finally mumbled, finding yourself unable to break away from his gaze and as a result, becoming completely captivated by his minty hues, "..Yeah, I have nowhere to go..honest."

You could easily be lying to him. It wouldn't be your first time after all. For all he knows, you could have your car parked somewhere nearby out of sight or be lying about being kicked out and just using it as an excuse to get in his house for whatever reason. Although, at the sight of your muddy, wet shoes—which he deduced is probably from walking long ventures in the rain—and your equally dirty, disheveled clothing that seemingly becomes more and more drenched the further down he looks, the chance of you lying seems less likely.

Even so, part of him is screaming at him for even humoring you this much. After all, you managed to break his trust in so many ways, all at once, and yet he stands here, peeking through the crack of his door like a little kid, listening to you beg him to let you in. How ridiculous, he thinks to himself, letting out a deflated sigh as he opens his door fully.

"You're only staying for the night," He turns away from you, beginning to walk away, "I'm kicking your ass out as soon as the rain stops."

Yuichiro pretends to not hear your relieved breaths and chooses not to acknowledge his heart which skipped the smallest beat when he glances back to see the appreciative smile etched on your face as you stepped through the door. Your boots drag and drip mud, staining his clean floors with it's muck, the sight makes Yuichiro's nose scrunch involuntarily.

"Take off your shoes and place them over there," He aimlessly points to an area near you, "And don't move from that spot. I don't want you tracking rain and mud everywhere."

After saying that, Yuichiro turns his back to you and walks away in the direction of his bedroom, grumbling something about finding clothes that would fit you under his breath before disappearing, leaving you to stare at his place, awestruck.

It hadn't been that long since you last saw him but in that little time, Yuichiro had managed to completely upgrade his living situation. I mean before, when you two were still together—when you two were struggling together—he was still living with his step-parents, living in that small, cramped room, but now he lives in a semi-large apartment decorated in marble and filled with nice, sleek furniture you could only dream of buying yourself. Best not to break anything while you're here, you note.

"Here," Was the only warning you got before the satisfying feeling of a hot towel envelopes your face, clouding your vision with it's thick material. You let it sit there for a moment, a small hum leaving your lips when you slowly remove it, revealing Yuichiro who stares at you with an expectant look.

"This towel.." Smells like him. Like almond milk, lavender, and the smallest hint of something else indescribable—a soothing smell that makes your heart swell with a feeling akin to comfort, "Is so warm. Did you just get this out the dryer?" Is what you end up saying.

"Yes, but it's was sitting in there for a while so I put it in my towel warmer." He states, his eyes narrowing when he hears you snicker.

"What?"

"You have a..towel warmer?" You ask, your lips twitching upwards to from an amused grin, "Is that really necessary?"

Yuichiro clicks his tongue and without much thought to it, he replies, "Are you necessary?"

"Do you think I'm necessary?" You ask as you began the tasking process of drying your drenched face.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

A chuckle escapes you, "Well when you ask like that..not really?"

"You sound unsure," A small smirk crosses Yuichiro's features, fitting his face like a glove, "If you want to know so bad, I'll tell you. Can't promise my response will be a nice one though."

"Mm, I'll pass," You shake your head and like a wet dog your hair swings and sways, water flying everywhere and some droplets even landing on Yuichiro in which he shields his face with his arm and groans, "I'm not one for degradation."

With a little 'tch' leaving his mouth through slightly clenched teeth, Yuichiro speaks, his irritated tone returning, "Come here."

Without thinking much about it you comply and walk over. You fix your lips to ask him—and possibly tease him—about his sudden request but as his warm hand touches your icy cheek, you find yourself unable to speak or even move.

"Yui..?" You whisper, your once droopy eyes widening just a little as you locked eyes with his. His eyes roll heavenward at the sight of your surprised expression and as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he grabs the towel out of your hand—fingertips brushing along the veins of your hand and tickling the skin—as his other hand remains rested on the plump of your cheek.

"Idiot," He grumbles, both at the mention of that accursed nickname and at the sight of the wet floor around you, "Your hair is dripping water everywhere," His free hand moves up, resting on the shell of your ear as he wipes away the water that trickles from your edges with the other, "Are you so incompetent that you can't even do something as simple as this without making an even bigger mess?"

Yuichiro continued his small rant, complaining about how slippery the floor will get after he cleans up all the water due to the material of the expensive flooring but to you, it was like all his curses and complaints flew into one ear and came hurdling out the other. As if he somehow casted a spell on you, you found yourself unable to look away from him, taking in all his little features, all his supposed 'flaws' as well as his many perfections, as if were the last thing you'd ever do.

From his black hair that gives off the illusion of ocean waves from how wavy it is—a product of always having his hair braided or bended into some bun or braid—to his lovely eyes that he always seem to narrow at the things or people that even slightly upset him, to his cute little ears and his smooth lips that you know for a fact are soft to the touch and even the little mole near his neck that he always tried to hide with turtlenecks and hoodies despite the many times you've kissed him and told him how adorable him and his mole is. ( In which he'd blush and push you away which leaves you giggling at him as a result )

"Hey.." Yuichiro's voice is what pulls you back to reality, the one who sets you free from the spell he unintentionally set on you as he strips the warmth of his palm from you. You blink, realizing that he was no longer roughly rubbing at your head and face with the towel and was now staring at you with a scowl on his face, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I.. I..uhm.." Here you stand, warm-faced and at a lost for words as if he asked you some complex math question. It was simple, really. You were staring because it's him who's in front of you. Him, who's currently staring into your soul with those damned blank, beautiful eyes. But you can't say that. If you did, you fear your bed tonight will be the cold, wet bench down the street..

"Anyways.." You break eye contact, scanning the area in a hast to find something, anything you could to try and change the subject only to mentally curse at the inconvenience. It's just like Yuichiro to keep his place clean and rid it of anything that's not useful to him at the moment. ( Unlike your room at your brother's house which is covered in dirty clothes, wrappers, and smells like a crack den )

"Uh.. How's your family going?" Oh how the regret immediately sunk in as you watched Yuichiro's face scrunch up in pure disgust at the question—a reasonable reaction considering what has happened and what they put him through.

"The same as always," He mutters only for you to immediately reply with a small 'I'm sorry' which results in him looking away.

"You're apologizing for that? Out of everything you did, that's what you're apologizing for?" The breath he lets out is one full of disbelief and you manage to catch the way his index and middle finger dig into the fat of his upper arm ever so slightly, "Way to prioritize."

"I just didn't want to make things awkward."

"Is that right?" Yuichiro heaves out a laugh, one short, airy, and slowly filling with his pent up rage with you, "Well I think we long passed that point. Especially after you come to my doorstep like some sad puppy after ghosting me for what, two years now?"

"I didn't 'ghost' you I just—"

"Ran away and ignored the many, many texts that I sent you asking where the fuck you were and not answering any of my calls or replying to any of my voicemails?" He replies, voice pointed like a sharpened blade, "I don't know if you realize but that's the exact definition of ghosting someone."

"Look I'm sorry, alright?"

"You're sorry? You embarrass me in front of my step-parents and friends, you steal from me on my fucking birthday and ignore every single one of my attempts of contacting you and all you can fucking say to me is sorry? Are you kidding me?"

"I have my reasons for doing what I did, okay?" Now you're starting to get frustrated. Blame your heightened senses but his blatant accusing which was caused by miscommunication on your part was making your blood boil. Nevertheless, Yuichiro doesn't seem to notice or if he does, he doesn't care.

"And what reasons are those? Huh? Were those reasons so good that you had to throw everything away for it? Was your reasons so amazing, so damn irresistible, that you had to push our relationship and my trust aside as if it meant nothing to you—As if I meant nothing to you? Huh? Tell me!" Yuichiro's letting his emotions get the better of him, he knows and is painfully aware of how embarrassed he'll be afterwards but he doesn't care right now. Right now, he just wants to know what happened, why it happened, and why he wasn't able to prevent it from happening.

"Just tell me the truth. Was this all my fault? Did I do something back then that upset you so much that you wanted to get back at me like you did? Were you tired of me complaining about my step-parents? Did I come off as if I didn't care about you or something?" He wraps his arms around you and to your surprise, he buries his face in your chest, "I can't take this feeling anymore.. Feeling as if I wronged you in some way yet not knowing what I did wrong. I hate it, I despise it, and I'm losing mind over it! So please! I'm begging you, tell me what I did wrong. I- I promise never to do it again! I..promise to treat you better.. I promise anything, just don't leave me alone again! I can't do this without you anymore.."

No. No. You can't. You can't tell him. As much as your heart aches to see him in such a desperate state, ( Even worse since that desperate state was caused by your absence ) you can't tell Yuichiro why you did what you did. That because you couldn't be like him and handle the pressure—because you let your intrusive thoughts get the better of you—you stole from him and left him to fend for himself in order to pursue your own selfish desire of escapism..

"You did nothing wrong," You push him away as gently as you can, ignoring the way you can almost hear your heart breaking as you say, "..I no longer felt anything for you and that's why I did what I did, plain and simple."

Through all of this, you had completely forgotten that you're still in his home. If he wanted to, he could scream and kick you out and leave you alone in the rain like you did to him. ( And you wouldn't exactly be mad if he did, it's an understandable reaction in your opinion ) But he doesn't and instead turns his back to you, his bangs covering his eyes like a stage curtain.

"I see.." He says, tone low, "..I'll go get you some blankets and some fresh clothes then. It's getting late and I don't want you to have any excuses tomorrow that I kept you up all night or something.."

Without hearing your response, he walks off and as you watch him, you fail to notice ( or pretend not to notice ) how his fist remain clenched—a desperate attempt at controlling the tears that threaten to fall as he begs to the gods above not let his sobs escape his throat before he can make it to the not so comforting confines of his bedroom.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #yuichiro tokito #tokito yuichiro x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #yuichiro tokito x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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