#they have called my mom to tell me it is my teeth cleaning time again and my mom called me and I just didn't react

[mae-gi-writes]

rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)

You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.

Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick

———

“Fuck you, Minho.”

“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”

You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”

”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.

It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.

And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.

“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.

“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.

“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”

“Minho and Y/N.”

Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.

If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.

But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.

And the worst of it all, you miss home.

You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…

You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.

“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.

“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”

Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.

Fucking. Great.

———

“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”

“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”

“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”

“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”

“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”

It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.

Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"

"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."

There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.

Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I tell you, of all people?"

"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."

You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"

"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.

You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"

Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."

It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.

Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.

It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.

But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.

You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.

It feels lonely.

------

You're kind of sick.

Not physically sick.

Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.

Sick of being here.

For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.

Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.

So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.

"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.

He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"

"You're not packed."

"Wise observation, smartass."

He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"

"None of your business."

He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"

"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."

"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."

"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.

It stings, "why?"

"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"

"My dad died. Two years ago."

There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.

There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.

"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"

"I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't. You never asked."

"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."

You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."

It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.

Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.

And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath

To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.

"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"

"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"

"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”

The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.

Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.

“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.

Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

———

“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”

You stare.

Your reflection stares back.

Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.

However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?

Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.

So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.

“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”

“The dude’s standing right here.”

Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.

“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.

Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.

The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.

“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.

“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.

Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.

In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.

“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.

“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”

You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”

Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.

Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.

“What is it?” You ask instead.

“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”

“About?”

His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.

“About me. And you.”

You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“

“I like you.”

You blink.

He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.

So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.

Wait…your mind backtracks, what?

“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"

His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.

"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."

You sense a but. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."

"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"

"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."

Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.

Cute. Your brain chants.

"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."

"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."

"Tomorrow? But wait I--"

"You better be there, doll."

And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.

---

Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.

Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.

Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.

The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.

Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!

Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.

Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!

Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.

Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!

Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?

Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?

So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--

No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.

That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.

His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”

“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”

He grins, “we’ll see.”

Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.

“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”

“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”

You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.

“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”

“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”

“Not what?” He scowls.

“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”

Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.

As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.

"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."

"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."

Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"

"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."

Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.

"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."

“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”

Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.

You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.

“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”

He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”

“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.

“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”

“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.

You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”

“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“

“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.

You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.

And you’re all here for it.

“Why not, though?”

His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”

“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“

“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still went out with them.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“

That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.

And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.

“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”

Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.

You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.

———

“Was that romantic enough for you?”

Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.

Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.

“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“

“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”

“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.

“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.

You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”

The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.

It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.

“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.

“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”

Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”

“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.

“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”

Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.

“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”

“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.

“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.

He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.

You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”

“Do me a favor?”

One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.

“Hm?”

“Stop talking.”

And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.

Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.

You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.

Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.

He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.

Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.

Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.

He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.

The curfew bell sounds and he curses.

“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.

The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.

“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”

“Curfew’s in two minutes.”

“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.

“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.

“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.

———

A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.

#Minho #minho xo kitty #minho x reader #minho imagines #xo kitty #xo kitty netflix #xo kitty imagines #kitty song covey #lee minho #xo kitty series #xo kitty minho #min ho x reader #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop drabbles #romcom #angst #enemies to lovers #min ho x kitty #xokittyedit

[emmyrosee]

you asked for angst and I hate angst but imma give you some bc I love you.

It is widely accepted that the Miya twins dad is not in the picture. Mama Miya is a single mom and is worshipped by her twin boys. They always prioritize taking care of her bc "she's got no one else but us". Which is great, its one of the reason why you feel in love with your man. But it becomes a hindrance when he starts missing out on things important to you. Esp when their mom didn't even need them there at that moment.

Could work for either Osamu or Atsumu.

I hate my brain.

LIT RALLY HAD A PIECE SIMILAR TO THIS IN THE WORKS BUT I GOT TOO SCARED TO POST IT ABDBEJSBEEI SO THIS IS NOW MY OUTLET 😯🫶🏻

—-

The moon is high in the sky when Osamu finally comes home, your hands buried in the sink as you wash dishes that have been sitting there far too long.

You’d asked osamu to do it, but he hasn’t even been home to look at them. A phone call from his mother took him straight from work to her house almost two hours away, leaving you to your own thoughts and feelings.

You adored Ms. Miya. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was your feeling of neglect brewing in your chest, with each time he leaves you with no regard for your needs.

“Hey Angel,” he hums as he finally crosses over the threshold, toeing off his shoes and tossing his keys on the hook. He says nothing when you merely grunt back, but he does make his way over for a kiss.

You return his kiss, despite your own desires to not, you just wanted to be close to him again, feel his hands cradling your body and relight the love in your soul.

“How was your night?”

“Quiet,” you sigh. “Just… cleaning up from dinner.”

“Shit, you made dinner?” At that moment, his stomach growls, “I was so busy at Ma’s I didn’t get the chance to eat. Do we have leftovers?”

You nod sadly, “yeah. Help yourself.”

“…everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

He clears his throat and picks up a plate from the strainer, “are you sure…? these used to have a design on them.”

You scrub harder.

“Talk to me, baby. I don’t like us keeping secrets from each other.”

“We don’t have secrets. If you can’t use your cognitive thinking skills as to why the person you’re going to marry is mad at you, that’s not my problem.”

“Is this about today?” He asks, voice dropping in defeat.

“Usually is.”

“Baby, you know I-“

The plate snaps under the force of your scrubbing, but you don’t focus on that, though osamu’s brows shoot up.

“Your mother needs you, your mother comes first, your mother asked you, your mother this, your mother that, I KNOW, OSAMU!” You bark, wet fists balled angrily and teeth gritted sharply. “I know the damn drill!”

He takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender, but his brows are furrowed in worry, “hey… it’s okay-“

“It’s not okay!” You yell. Your hands come up to grip your chest, “what about when I need you? Hmm? Where’s my turn to be selfish and need you-“

“My mother is not selfish,” he growls. His brows furrow, “you damn know that.”

You roll your eyes, “no, she’s not. But I want to be. I want to be the big important thing in your life for once, I want to be the thing you run to; I want to be the one you drop everything for.”

“You are, but she needed me today, atsumu couldn’t make it-“

“Yeah, what was the big emergency today, huh? Problem with the internet? Phone bill? Fridge cleaning?”

He doesn’t say anything; merely scratches the back of his head, looking at you with tired eyes as if you’d done this dance far too many times. Which you had- but that’s not your fault.

“Tell you what,” you begin, using your wet hand to grab the engagement ring from the edge of the sink and grab his hand to put it in, “when you can give me more than 4 hours out of the day, you can propose to me again.”

He grips your hand sharply, and for a moment it snaps you back to reality for what you were saying, how venomous and toxic your words were, and your jaw slacks softly, “I… didn’t mean that-“

“We are not going to be this couple,” he snarls. “We are not going to weaponize our engagement when we get into fights. Understand?”

“It just came out-“

“Then keep it in. Do not question my love for you in such a meaningless fight. Do not give me the ring that I decided to give you back, sheerly because you’re mad at me. We’re not going to be a couple that threatens our love from each other. You know better than that.”

The room is silent, the only noise coming from the creaks of the house and osamu doesn’t let go of your hand. His eyes are firm but they shine with betrayal, and his Adams Apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

You sniffle under his intense gaze, “all I wanted was for you to come home,” you whimper. “I got a promotion at work. I cooked dinner, I bought a cake, I-I-I just wanted you to show up.” Your bottom lip wobbles as he simply nods at your words, encouraging you to speak up more if you need to. “I hate sharing you all the time. I want to be selfish and have you come home to me, and not have to wonder about when or if you’re going to come home because of how far away she lives.” He lets go of your hand to wipe a stream of tears that dribble from your eye.

“I just miss you, ‘samu…”

He takes a deep inhale in before pulling you in for a hug, cradling you close and letting you cry in his chest. “Thank you, for being honest,” he says softly, kissing your head. “It must be frustrating to have to share my attention, especially when you have something important to tell me.” He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, before squeezing you closer, “but you have to communicate with me. You have to tell me if you’re feeling neglected. I can’t be here if I don’t know, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m sure you wanted to surprise me today, and I’m sorry that fell through.”

You nod in his chest, relishing in the smell of rice and cologne, mewling and squeezing him tighter.

“How about we take tomorrow off?” He hums, pulling back to cradle your cheek in his big hand. “We can celebrate your promotion, and be together, yeah?”

“W-What about the shop?” You whimper. “That’s more important-“

“No.” He pulls back and looks down firmly. “Don’t finish that sentence. The shop will be plenty fine for one day.” He smiles softly, “after all. Need to celebrate my baby’s big break.”

You give him a watery laugh before inching to be closer to him again, more than anything just glad to be in his vicinity after so long.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you whispered.

“Hmm… what was that?” He asks, cheekily.

Brat.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you repeat, this time with some giggles.

“One more time?”

“Osamu!”

He snickers and places a kiss on top of your head, “I’m so sorry I was busy with Ma all day. I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“What did she need?”

“Eh, she needed her oil changed and god knows atsumu’s not going to do that.”

You laugh against his chest and nod, “he’d never risk messing up his hair like that.”

“Never.”

#osamu miya #osamu miya angst #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x gn!reader #osamu miya x reader angst #osamu miya imagine #osamu miya haikyuu #miya osamu #miya osamu angst #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader angst #miya osamu x gn!reader #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hurt to comfort #hurt/comfort

[traveler-at-heart]

The Tooth Fairy

Summary: Your daughter gets a generous visit.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Sorry for the weird format, I’m on my phone. Also, fun game, drink everytime you find the word fairy in this fic 🧚

“Mom!”

Your daughhter’s scream puts you immediately on edge.

Her voice is quivering, as if she’s not sure she should be crying over what’s happening.

“What is it, sweetie?” you kneel next to her on the playground, mentally counting all her fingers and checking for injuries. You have to stay calm for her sake.

“My tooth fell off” Anya says, showing it to you. “Does this mean that I can’t eat chocolate anymore?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s fine” you pick her up and carry her to the park bench. “These are called baby teeth. They’ll fall off and then you’ll get your new ones. And those are for good.”

“Promise?”

“Well, yes. Unless you eat too much chocolate. Then you’ll get cavities”

Anya keeps looking at the tooth in her hand and then offers it to you. Closing one eye, you examine it as if it were a diamond.

“The tooth fairy is gonna be real happy with this one”

“There’s a fairy?” Anya perks up and you smile.

“Oh, yes. You have to leave it under your pillow with a small note and then they’ll pick it up. Leave you a dollar or two if they think it’s a good tooth”

“I wanna write the note, can we go home now?”

“Yes, sweetie” you carry her, relieved now that Anya seems happier.

—-

It’s not an easy task, but you persuade Anya to wait for her other mom to write the note. You’re sure Natasha wouldn’t wanna miss it.

After all, this is the same woman that almost cried when she was away on a mission and your daughter sneezed for the first time.

“I’m home” you hear the door open and close. Anya smiles, eager to tell her mom about the highlight of the day.

“Mama” she jumps to her arms, wavy red hair flying as Natasha catches her.

“Someone is very happy to see me”

“I’m happy to see you too” you say, leaning forward and giving her a quick kiss.

“Then why aren’t you jumping into my arms?”

“Mama, I’m going to meet the tooth fairy!” Anya interrupts you, pulling her tooth from the pocket of her pants.

“Your first tooth? And I missed it?”

Damn it, she’s gonna cry again. You can’t have that.

“Baby, you didn’t miss it. Anya still has to write a letter. She’s been waiting for you”

“Yeah, come on” Anya bounces on her arms, encouraging Natasha to go to the living room.

“I’ll work on dinner while you two do that, ok?” you kiss Natasha’s cheek and let her enjoy the time with Anya.

From your spot on the kitchen, you can hear Anya asking all sorts of questions about the fairy lore.

She’s a smart kid, so all Natasha does is hand her the crayons she requests. Anya falls silent, and then begins to write the letter.

“All done?” your wife says and Anya covers the sheet of paper with her tiny hands.

“This is a secret letter”

Natasha looks at you, both struggling to hold your smiles.

“Dinner’s ready” you announce, serving pasta.

Anya giggles when the spaguetti goes through the whole her tooth left.

“Baby, don’t play with your food like that” you scold. Then you turn to Natasha for support, only to find her creating a spaguetti mustache that leaves her face full of sauce. “Honestly, Natalia”

“Mama is in trouble” Anya laughs.

“She’s doing the dishes, that’s for sure” you agree.

After dinner, Natasha prepares a bath for Anya while you clean the kitchen. You both know you’re too obsessive to leave the cleaning to anyone else.

You go to the study to write a small thank you note for Anya from the tooth fairy. You even add some glitter for extra flare.

Tucking it in the back of your pocket, you walk into your daughter’s room to wish her goodnight.

“Is it under your pillow?” you check and she nods, yawning.

“I wanna wait for them”

“Oh, the fairy only shows up when you’re asleep, darling. Like Santa”

“Are they friends?” Anya says, quickly falling asleep.

“Yeah, you could say they’re practically the same person” Natasha whispers and you nudge her with your elbow. Anya is already asleep, so it doesn’t really matter if she heard that last part.

Quietly, you take the letter from under her bed and place yours instead.

“Why are your hands all shiny?” Natasha asks as you’re getting ready for bed.

“Welll, I am a fairy, baby. Haven’t you heard?” you tap the tip of her nose, leaving some glitter on it.

“I’m happy I was here for this” Natasha says against your shoulder as you cuddle.

“Me too” you say, your eyelids heavy. “Oh, crap. I forgot to leave the money under Anya’s pillow”

“That’s ok, I’ll do it”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. You’re the stealthy spy here” you smile when Natasha kisses your neck and leaves the bed. You’re so tired you fall asleep before she comes back.

—

The smell of coffee wakes you up.

Coffee and pancakes. Stretching, you get out of bed, feeling relaxed and happy.

“Hey, baby” you greet your wife, admiring her toned arm muscles accentuated by the white tank top.

“Morning, detka” she smiles, adding more pancakes to the plate next to the stove. “Breakfast is ready”

“I’m hungry for other things” you lift the edge of her tank top, scratching Natasha’s abs with your nails. She follows your lead, tilting her head and parting her lips to let your tongue explore her mouth.

“Mom, mama!” Anya says, running out of her room. You sigh against Natasha’s lips and step away. “They were here! I woke up and there was a letter with some glitter”

“That’s awesome, sweetie” you smile, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You turn to your daughter as you take a sip.

“And look! She left me this!”

Anya waves a hundred dollar bill in front of you, making you choke on your coffee.

“Wow, that fairy won the lottery since the last time I saw her” you catch your breath.

“Is this enough to buy a pony?”

“No, darling. Go set the table, I’ll bring you some juice and pancakes, ok?”

“Can I watch tv while having breakfast?”

“Fine” Natasha answers and you wait for your daughter to be out of earshot to talk to her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, baby, did you leave all that money for Anya?”

“Yes, I didn’t know how much to put and you were asleep”

“Ok, for future reference, five bucks is more than fine” you smile, placing your hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry” she looks defeated and you try to cheer her up.

“Don’t be, it’s fine. We’ll use the savings we have for the rest of the teeh and then send her to community college”

“Stop!” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Come on, it’s ok” you kiss her softly. “We’ll tell her that the fairy had to pay her mortgage and is broke. I’ll even add less glitter on the next letter”

“You’re taking this glitter thing too seriously”

“Well, we have to rely on Alexei to play Santa. At least I get to have some fun with this”

—

Later that day, as your friends get together for a barbecue, Anya shows everyone the place where her tooth once was; luckily, she left the money at home.

That doesn’t stop Billy and Tommy from finding out. Pretty soon, they’re asking their mom about the tooth fairy and if there’s a special deal for twins.

“They left 100 dollars for Anya” Billy shouts and everyone falls silent.

“Oh, wow. Maybe the fairy can visit me as well” Sam smiles. You kick him under the table.

Unfortunately for Natasha, you have to explain everything when Wanda convinces the twins to go back to play.

“Don’t sweat it, Red. Everything’s so expensive nowadays, it’s only fair Anya starts saving now”

“Oh, you’re one to talk” Pepper points at Tony. “He left a blank check under Morgan’s pillow the first time she lost a tooth”

Everyone laughs at that, Tony adjusting in his seat.

“Would you like to adopt me?” Sam asks after a minute.

—

“I got the door” you whisper. Natasha is carrying Anya to her room. It was a fun afternoon of playing with friends and then doing the math on how many plushies she could get with all that money.

She’s fast asleep, and you wait by the door as Natasha tucks her in.

“You ok?” you want to double check, knowing she can be insecure about motherhood.

“I just wish I knew everything”

“Well, so do I. I wish I knew how to stay calm. Remember last week when she hurt her hand with the stove? I thought I was going to throw up and you handled it while I panicked”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s a lot, Tasha. We love you. And we need you” you kiss her softly and she smiles against your lips.

“Wanna read the letter?” you offer once you’re settled in bed. Your wife nods and you take it out of your nighstand. “Dear Miss Fairy - very formal. This is my tooth, it felll off while I was playing. Mom told me you take them and leave some money. My Mama helped me draw this. I love my moms and I want to buy them ice cream and chocolate with the money you give me. Hugs, Anya Romanoff”

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You both are” Natasha says as you cuddle, kissing her neck.

“We love you”

“So, what do we do next time?”

“We tell her the fairy is getting heer a car at 16 and hopefully she’ll forget about it by then” you smile, confident.

Of course, she doesn’t.

#natasha romanoflf x you #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“You know Felix!”

“You know Felix!”

“You know Felix!”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and if he’s anything like the rest of your family that point isn’t very convincing.”

“I’m fucking telling him you said that,” you best friend said with a grin, shaking his head

“Go right ahead. Tell him this too.” You flicked him off and grabbed a 2-liter of sprite from the counter behind you. “Tell him it’s from me, with love.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“Great. Can you pass me that?”

“This?” Han asked, holding up a bottle of vodka. You nodded. “If you’ll go on the trip.”

“Asshole,” you muttered. You swiped for the bottle, but Jisung held it above your head out of your reach. “Fine, I’ll fucking drink sprite and tequila, happy?” 

“Jesus Christ, just take the vodka,” he said and held it out to you, “I’m not going to be the reason you get sick.”

“Such a gentleman.”

He rolled his eyes. “How many times have I saved your ass from dates with losers this semester alone?”

“That’s different and you know it!” you argued. “You’re only playing the boyfriend card for like fifteen minutes max and we always get takeout afterwards.” 

“All I’m saying is, you’ve been on a lot of shitty dates this year. It adds up.”

“Not to two fucking months it doesn’t!” You twisted the cap off the bottle of vodka with your teeth and eyeballed a shot and a half into the cup. 

Jisung leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, giving you that knowing half smile you were all too familiar with. You scowled in annoyance and took a sip of your drink. He knew you better than anybody, and if that smile was any indication, he knew you were going to break soon. But you weren’t about to give in without a fight. 

“I’ve bailed you out of dates as well, so don’t act like I’ve never done you any favors.”

“I only called you once this semester, but nice try.”

You shrugged. “All that’s telling me is that I get laid way more than you do.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You really want to do this right now? In the middle of this party?”

You didn’t offer a response aside from pursing your lips before taking another sip of your drink. Realistically, it was too close to call which one of you slept with more people, and you knew that. Han just didn’t usually take his lays out to dinner first like yours did. 

“Come on, you’re always going on about how you want to travel!” he insisted. “This is the perfect opportunity, and it’s all already paid for.” 

“That’s not what I meant by traveling.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just, I don’t know, I want to explore places, meet people, bar hop- I don’t want to follow an itinerary and wear matching t-shirts… you know?” Jisung grimaced. “We’re gonna have to wear matching t-shirts aren’t we?”

“My mom’s been working on them for a month,” he admitted sheepishly. “But we’ll have free time! We can do whatever you want then, promise. We can bar hop to your heart’s content” 

“I don’t know, Ji…”

“Just say you’ll think about it?” he asked, giving you puppy dog eyes. 

You sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

-

“Y/n, I swear to God if you don’t call me back within the hour I’m calling campus police. I can’t keep leaving messages because I know your inbox is probably almost full because you never clean the damn thing out so this is the last one- if you’re freaking out about what I sent you and ignoring me because of it can you just text me or something so I know you’re alive? If you’re not ignoring me I- just call me, okay? I’m getting worried.” You could hear him take a breath like he was about to say something else, but the message cut off there. 

It was his fourth call to you in a row, and all of the other voicemails were basically the same thing- aside from him mentioning that if you were dead in a ditch somewhere he wouldn’t email Dateline and get you an episode like he’d agreed to do if you were ever murdered just because he was mad at you for not answering his calls in the third message. 

You squinted at your phone and typed out a quick text back just to let him know you were okay. You read it over once before sending it to make sure it was coherent, but the words were blurring together on the screen and the light was hurting your eyes. Whatever, if there was anyone who could understand your gibberish it was Jisung. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the throbbing in between your eyes. The room was dark, save for the single ray of sunlight shining through the gap in the curtains right into your eyes. Your luck never failed you. 

You weren’t a stranger to hangovers, unfortunately, but that didn’t make them any less of a bitch. Apparently it came with the territory of being a lightweight with a best friend who was a heavyweight. Keeping up with Jisung was like an olympic fucking sport that you were in no way qualified to compete in, but that had never stopped you from trying. 

It was only when you reached for the glass of water you always kept on your bedside table that you realized you weren’t actually in your bed. Your first clue should’ve been the curtains. You didn’t have curtains on your window. 

“Fuck.”

You mustered up some energy and tried to sit up, taking a brief look around the room to try and get your bearings. It was a standard college apartment bedroom from what you could tell. There were several doors, one of which was cracked open to reveal an ensuite bathroom. You didn’t even have to look at the person sleeping beside you to know you were in a boy’s room. The bed- if you could even call it that- was just a mattress on the floor and the only decoration in the whole room was a barstool flag hanging on the wall. You always picked winners. 

You carefully peeled back the covers, pushed yourself to your feet, and made your way into the bathroom all without waking whoever was next to you. One look in the dirty mirror told you everything you needed to know. What was left of your makeup was smudged around your eyes, making you look like a very hungover racoon. Your underwear was still on, but your pants were gone and you were wearing someone else’s t-shirt. It was a tour shirt from a band you’d never heard of that probably either hadn’t released new music since 2009 or broke up over a decade ago. Whatever, just another to add to your collection.

It had been an hour and twenty minutes since Jisung had left that last voicemail, and you were banking on the hope that he hadn’t contacted the police yet. 

“Y/n, what the fuck, where are you?” You held the phone away from your ear as he shouted at you through the speaker. Your headache was already bad enough. 

“I-uh, I don’t know. But I’m fine,” you assured him. “Can you pick me up?”

“How do you expect me to pick you up if you don’t even know where you are?”

“Is my location o-”

“If your location was on, do you think I would’ve called you a thousand times?”

“Okay, okay that was stupid of me, sorry.”

“Is there a window you could look out of and like describe the surroundings to me?”

You looked back up into the mirror and noticed a window in the shower behind you. You scrambled over to it, unceremoniously stepping into the tub to get a closer look. 

“I see a bunch of cars, and a street sign…”

“What does the street sign say?”

“I don’t know, it’s too far away.” You could practically hear Jisung roll his eyes over the phone. “Uh, there’s also a playground like a block to the left and a house with a big tree.”

“You know you’re describing every suburban neighborhood ever, right? You do know that?”

“Shut up, I’m trying my best,” you mumbled and squinted at what looked to be lights twinkling in the distance. Someone already had their Christmas decorations up a few houses down. “Oh, shit! I know where I am!”

“And where would that be?”

“I’m at the same house from last night, the one that had the party.”

“Are you- are you fucking kidding me? You’re just now realizing that? How could you not recognize it before?”

“Well I’ve never seen the upstairs! And I wasn’t in the bedrooms last night,” you reasoned.

“Alright, alright spare me the details. I'm on my way.”

You grinned. “Thanks, Hannie, you’re the best.” 

“I know.” You heard the jingle of keys in the background and then the sound of a car ignition turning over. “Stay on the line with me, okay?”

“Okay- I’ll climb out the window and meet you on the lawn.” 

“Hold on, did you say you were going to climb out the window?” Jisung asked.

“Yeah, it’s not too-”

“Why aren’t you going down the stairs and through the front door like a normal person?”

“Uh, a couple of reasons, namely that I don’t have any pants. I can’t find them anywhere.” There was a lapse of silence on the other end of the line. “Jisung?”

“I’m still here, I just don’t know what to say to that, honestly.”

“I wouldn’t either,” you sighed. “So I’m just going to,” you grunted with effort as you pushed the window open, “there we go.”

“You’d really rather crawl out of a window than just do the walk of shame and get it over with?”

You didn’t answer, instead hoisting yourself up and over the ledge head first then tumbling onto the roof. The roof wasn’t very slanted, thankfully, so you didn’t have to worry about accidentally rolling off. You shakily got to your feet and brushed yourself off before sliding the window closed behind you. 

“Y/n?” Jisung’s voice echoed through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Not really.”

A sigh came from his end, but nothing else. You smiled, despite yourself and took a deep breath as you looked down at the ground below you. The drop was a little further than you had anticipated, but you couldn’t turn back now. What would someone say if they saw you climb back in through the window? What would you say to them? The situation was already bizarre enough as it was. 

You squatted down at the edge of the roof in preparation to jump, trying to psych yourself up as Jisung’s  prius rounded the corner down the block. 

“How is this less humiliating than the walk of shame?” Jisung huffed, you assumed mostly to himself. “You look ridiculous.”

“I think you’re underestimating the lengths I’m willing to go to avoid awkward social interaction,” you countered. “And I slept with a stranger last night, my decision making is questionable at best right now.”

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” he said, sighing as he parked in front of the house. “Please be careful, okay? Don’t hit your head. You can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.”

You glared in his direction. “Ha ha, very funny.”

You sucked in another breath and squeezed your eyes shut before pushing off the edge of the roof with your hands. You landed on your feet, but the momentum from hitting the ground made you lose your balance and you fell face-first onto the lawn. The grass was freshly cut, clippings littering the sidewalk, and you knew without even looking that your clothes were stained to all hell. 

You picked yourself up with a groan, and jogged the rest of the way to Jisung’s car. You slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind you, unable to make eye contact with him as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Jisung tossed you a pair of basketball shorts he’d grabbed from the back and put the car in drive.  

“I think that might be your best performance yet,” he said smugly as you pulled the shorts on. 

“Please tell me you didn’t film-”

“It’s already on my Instagram story.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He pursed his lips like he was trying not to smile. “But hey, who saved your ass just now? Oh that’s right, me.”

“Yeah yeah, thank you,” you grumbled. 

“What was that?”

You smiled sweetly. “Thank you for picking me up, Jisung.”

“You’re welcome. Was that so hard?”

“No comment.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence as he drove. He turned up the radio to drown out the sound of the tires against the asphalt as he merged on the main road and gunned it. The morning was still gray and dewey with fog lingering over the street like something out of a horror movie. It might have been unsettling if the weather wasn’t always like this here. 

You pulled down the sun shade and looked into the small mirror, trying to wipe away the excess mascara and eyeliner underneath your eyes. You hadn’t gotten the chance to yet and your reflection was still winter soldier-esque. 

“Do you want coffee?” Jisung asked. “My treat.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. Jisung never offered to pick up the tab unless he wasn’t sober… or unless he wanted something. Still, you ignored your better judgment and thought maybe he was just being nice after your rough night. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” 

He handed you his phone so you could put in the order for the two of you. Cold brew with almond milk for him and an iced caramel vanilla latte with oat milk for yourself. They were saved under his favorites on the menu along with his debit card. You sent in the order and handed the phone back to him just as it buzzed with a notification from his dms. 

“Oh yeah, did you end up going home with that girl last night?” you asked with a smirk, remembering how he’d spent most of the party pressed up against a stranger with bright green hair. 

He shook his head. “No, she told me she had a final today.”

“Today’s Saturday.”

“I know.”

You made a sympathetic face. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Don’t Prince Zuko me right now.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” You gave him a not-at-all-reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You win some, you lose some.”

“Feels like I’ve been losing a lot lately,” he muttered. “It’s like I’m on a streak or something.”

“I’m sure you’ll turn that around this summer,” you said confidently. Jisung gave you a weird look. “What?”

“Did you not read the emails I sent you?”

You blinked. “The emails-”

“Did you not listen to the voicemails I sent you?”

“I uh- I listened to them but I don’t… you emailed me? You never email me.” 

You unlocked your phone and scrolled to the mail app, ignoring the red 12,848 unread messages icon in the corner that taunted you day and night. At the very top of your inbox was an email from Jisung that had been forwarded from… his mom? You looked back up at him in confusion, but he was concentrated on the road ahead and refused acknowledge you. 

You opened the email, hoping for some clarity, but its contents gave you none. Instead, Flight Information for Jisung + 1 stared back at you in bold font from the subject line. You scanned down the rest of the message briefly, finding yourself more and more lost as it went on. 

“Han, what is this?” you asked. The nausea from your hangover had flip-flopped into dread that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s the stuff for the trip,” he replied like it should have been obvious. “You said you’d go.”

“I said I’d think about it,” you clarified.

“Yeah, and then later you came back and told me you’d go.”

You sat back in your seat, trying to remember. “I-I did?”

Jisung whipped his head in your direction with a panicked look on his face. “Do you not remember?”

“Not in the slightest.” 

“God fucking damn it, I should’ve known you were blacked out. You don’t remember any of it?”  he asked again, perhaps thinking that if he asked enough times you’d magically remember. You shook your head reluctantly. Jisung sighed. “Well, like an hour and a half after you told me you’d think about it you came back and told me you’d do it and we talked about it some more and I texted my mom right then because she’s been bugging me about it for weeks and-” 

 “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” your voice shook as you spoke. Suddenly it all made sense. Why Jisung thought you might be freaking out this morning, the voicemails, the coffee, all of it. Maybe it was the alcohol from the night before talking, or some weird sense of best friend duty, but you knew what you had to do. You probably would have ended up doing it anyway. “I told you I’d go… so I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “It’ll be fun, right?.”

“Yes, absolutely it will be fun. I promise,” Jisung said, letting out a breath and relaxing his grip on the steering wheel. He beamed at you, and honestly whatever shit you’d gotten yourself into was worth it in that moment alone. “Thank you so much, y/n. You’re the best, seriously- I owe you.”

“No shit.”

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #skz x female reader #minho x female reader #lee minho x female reader #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #stray kids series #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #lee know series #lee know fanfic

[luvendiary]

The Language of Flowers

Adrien Agreste x Couffaine!Reader

summary: you work at a flower shop, and one particular day an ex classmate of yours / model / superstar comes to visit with a strange request.

a/n: i've been in a weir place with my writing lately, so i'm not convinced with the execution of this one. the concept is nice tho. as always tell me what you think and also let me know if you'd like to turn this into a series of sorts.

Paris woke you up with the sound of honking cars and screams.

‘Another akumatized villain’ you thought to yourself.

You groan and roll over in your bed before reaching out to your phone and check the time. Three minutes left of sleep before your alarm was supposed to go off.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, no point in trying to sleep now.

After taking a shower and dressing yourself up, you walked downstairs to get some breakfast.

“Morning mom,” you said as you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“How’d you sleep honey?” your mom asked.

“Fine,” you mumbled groggily as you slumped your head onto the table.

You heard her chuckle in response, but she didn’t ask anything else.

“Morning,” another voice intervened.

You couldn’t muster a reply, so instead you groaned once again.

“It’s great to see you too (Y/N)”, your brother said, “are you ready for your shift?”

“No.”

“I’m leaving in ten minutes,” Luca said as he sat in front of you, “If you want me to take you, be ready by then.”

“Mhm,” you replied as you bit into a jam toast.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed as you trotted through the streets of Paris. Thinking back on it, you regretted not having taken your brother up on his offer, since you were now late. Although those few more minutes of sleep were sort of worth it.

After some minutes you finally saw the front of the small flower shop you worked at, and with your head hung low you quickly walked in, where your coworker, Julia, was already arranging a bouquet for the window display.

“I know! I’m late,” you said while treading to the back of the shop were you hung your stuff and put your apron on.

“I’ll forgive you, if you take client duty,” she said without lifting her view from the flowers i front of her.

You groaned, but agreed nevertheless. Client duty was what you called the part of actually talking to the people that came in, instead of the fun part, aka making bouquets and display arrangements.

Just as if on time, the front bell rang, and your eyes snapped to the door. However, it wasn’t exactly a client.

“Hi Luca,” you said as your smile dropped.

“Oh, you made it on time,” he said with a chuckle.

“Not exactly,” Julia interrupted as she came up with a beautiful bouquet of white roses and gave it to him.

“Here, a flower in exchange for a smile,” he said as he took out one of the roses and offered it to you.

You, in exchange, bared your teeth to him and wrinkled your nose in a mocking way.

“Here’s the address, and be careful with those,” your coworker said as she gave Luca a piece of paper.

“I always am,” he responded before walking out of the door.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“No!” you shrieked as you were splashed with water. Your hair had come loose from the ponytail you had tied it on, and it was getting into your eyes as your coworker sprayed you with an atomizer.

However, despite your pleas, she didn’t stop, so in defence, you grabbed a handful of uncut black roses and hit her with them.

“Shit!” she quietly cursed in between laughter.

Your brawl was interrupted by the sound of the front door once again.

“We’re not done yet,” you said pointing the flowers menacingly towards your colleague, to which she laughed in response and signaled you to get out.

“Welcome, what can I help you wi-” you started saying as you cleaned your apron, however as you looked up towards your client you were surprised to see the one and only Adrien Agreste.

You had gone to school with Adrien, and you used to have a small crush on him, however you never got the courage to talk to him. Now you just knew him as the perfume guy.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with a smile. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

“Uh yes, that’s me,” you replied with a nervous hint of laughter while you rocked on your heels. “You’re Adrien Agreste, right?”

“Yes, we went to school together, remember?”

“Yes, I do remember. You were friends with my brother.”

“Still am, I never see you around though.”

“Really? I feel like I see you in every corner,” you joked as the commercials of his perfume came to mind.

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh, anyway, what can I help you with?”

“Right, this might come off as a weird request, but how do I say ‘please leave me alone’ with flowers.”

You laughed and put down the black roses you were still holding on to on a nearby table, “Well, orange lilies might do the trick, as well as yellow carnations.” As you named the flowers you picked them up as well as some paper to wrap them up. “Are you having a lovers quarrel? How’s Kagami by the way?”

He chuckled, “Not exactly… it’s more of a diplomacy thing. I have to be polite, but if I must then I’d like a small win. And, well… Kagami and I broke up a while ago.”

That made you stop in your tracks, how could you be so unprofessional? “Oh- I’m so sorry.. It wasn’t my place to ask.”

“It’s quite alright, she and I are still friends. We just realized we didn’t like each other that way, it was more of our parent’s pressure on us,” Adrien reassured while admiring one of the arrangements that were on display. “How about these? They are really pretty.”

You glanced towards the flowers he was looking at and shook your head with a small giggle, “I think those are not what you’re looking for. Tulips are beautiful, they are my favorite flower, but they’re more of an ‘i miss you’ or even a ‘thinking about you’ sort of flower.”

He paused for a second before nodding, “Right, let’s stay clear of those for now.”

When you finished arranging his bouquet you took it up to the counter, “That’ll be thirty euros.”

Adrien took out his wallet and offered you a fifty note, and you immediately went to give him his change, but he interrupted you before you could. “Keep it. It was nice seeing you again. I hope to see you around, yes?”

You blushed and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “Y-yea! Sure. It was nice seeing you too.”

He offered you one last smile before walking out of the door, leaving you - a semi flustered mess - behind.

“Was that the perfume guy?” Julia asked as she peaked out from the backroom.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Akuma attacks weren’t a weird happening in the city of Paris, however it wasn’t exactly expected the be caught in the way of one while on your way to work.

You stood paralysed as you saw a car hurled your way, if your mind was working to a certain amount, you would’ve maybe said a final prayer and hope that the end of your life was painless; however, the only thing you managed to do was close your eyes and try to shield your face. Weirdly enough, the pain never came. You opened your eyes and was met with the not-so-unexpected sight of Chat Noir. He was holding on to the car that had been flying towards you a moment earlier.

“Thank yo-”

“Watch out!” he said and in a quick gesture took you by the waist and carried you away with his staff.

The air was knocked out your lungs and you held on tightly to the hero. You could feel his muscles working beneath his suit as he held on to his staff. When he deemed you a safe distance away, he put you down, and before you could say something he spoke.

“You work at the flower shop, right?”

You were left speechless for a short moment. It was such a weird thought that Chat Noir might have seen you, and even bought from your flower shop in his civilian form.

“Uh-yes. I do.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but a crash far away, that came from the battle caught his attention. “Right, I have to go. Be careful next time m’lady, and don’t be afraid to catcall me if you need anything,” he said with a wink as he took your hand and kissed it.

You rolled your eyes playfully and smirked at him. “Thank you chaton. I’ll keep you in mind.”

“I sure hope so.”

When you finally arrived to work you saw Julia attending a lady from the cashier. You gave her an apologetic look and immediately walked to the back. A few seconds later, you heard the front bell ring, signaling that the lady had exited the shop, and sure enough she peered inside the backroom with a glare.

“I swear this time it wasn’t my fault.”

“Mhm, of course it isn’t.”

“An akumatized villain threw a car at me!”

“And Ladybug saved you, am I right?”

“Actually, Chat Noir did.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re here now.”

You laughed and set up your working space, before starting to work on the delivery arrangements your brother was supposed to deliver tomorrow.

The day went by in a blur, and it passed amongst clients, deliveries and random conversations with Julia.

“I’m heading out (Y/N)! You can close by yourself tonight, right?”

“Of course, enjoy your date! You have to tell me how everything goes, ok?”

“I’ll make no promises!” she called out before leaving.

As you were closing, something caught your eye. A red bouquet of flowers sat on the check-out desk, you didn’t remember placing it there, or using any red flowers today for that matter. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and upon clear inspection you realized it was a beautiful bouquet of red tulips. You gasped softly and went up to it, there was a note attached to it that simply read: ‘Thinking of you.’

Your cheeks tinted red and you glanced over your shoulder, before gently pressing the flowers to your nose. You smiled to yourself and started your walk home in a happy bliss.

#chat noir #mlb #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #chat noir x reader #adrien agreste #luca couffaine #adrien agreste x reader #adrien x reader #akuma

[piratefalls]

i emerge from my pile of blankets in the freezing midwest just long enough to drop this. there's all kinds of fun stuff this week! and, despite being housebound because of subzero temps, i'm so far behind on reading it's not even funny, so it's a little shorter than usual.

masterlist.

None of my love will go to waste by @kiwiana-writes

Alex had pulled away at the sound of the door opening, is the thing. He’d looked up at Henry with wide eyes and spit-slick, swollen lips, and Henry knows intrinsically that he will never be rid of that mental image. He’ll take it into the shower later, into bed tonight, into the rest of his natural life; if he hits his head tomorrow and winds up with some medically implausible form of amnesia, the key to unlocking his identity will be the enduring memory of a beautiful mystery man and his perfect cock-sucking mouth. Because Alex was—Christ, he was— Or, Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate.

wake and shake by weather_stained

Alex wakes up to find Henry indulging in some...classical literature.

until you're sick of me by rizcriz

Henry hasn't seen his roommate in nearly two months. Alex left for Austin shortly before Thanksgiving for two weeks, and Henry left for London the day before he was set to return. They’ve had the odd facetime call, and several hundred text messages to help them tide their time apart—but that didn’t take away from the fact that Henry fucking missed him. And after three delayed flights, he’s finally standing outside their apartment door, and he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’ll still be several hours before he can finally see Alex again. He sighs and sets down his bag to dig out his keys, carefully tucks the key into the lock, and quietly opens the door, turning his back to it to pick up his carryon and grab his roller bag. As quietly as he can, he scoots backwards into the apartment, flinching as the roller bag bounces off the door frame. -- Or, surprise, it's a love confession

check-in closes at too-early p.m. by coffeecatsme

A passenger plane, even if he was in first class, wasn’t going to wait for the former FSOTUS to stop making out with his boyfriend so they can fly. Or, 5 times Alex misses his flight and 1 time he doesn't.

sometimes we break so beautiful by Anonymous

It’s his own damn fault; Alex knows this. It’s his fault for having everyone over for a small birthday party only to spend the evening whispering filthy things to Henry when no one was looking. (And when they were looking, because it’s his goddamn birthday and he can be as inappropriate with his boyfriend as he fucking wants to be.) It’s his fault for pushing Henry, for bratting off with antagonistic words like ‘what are you going to do about it—give me birthday spankings?’ and ‘do you actually think you could put me in my place? Because I’d like to see you try.’ It’s his fault for taunting Henry by suggestively licking the birthday candles, for doing anything he could possibly do to bring attention to his mouth, to his ass, to his fingers. It's his fault that he’s now on their bed, lying on top of Henry, arms stretched out in front of him on either side of Henry's head and wrists tied to the headboard.

There's Something Missing in My Heart by allmylovesatonce

When Alex goes to London to tell him he loves him, Henry sends him away. How do both of them react to being without each other and what happens when their emails are still leaked?

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge

“I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.” Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.” Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.” “And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

Keep Me Waiting (Give Me More) by bleedingballroomfloor

Alex rubs his face with his hands. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that you got a guy off three times — three fucking times — without even touching his dick? I don’t even think that’s scientifically possible.” Henry’s wine-drunk grin grows a little wider. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Sweet, Like Sugar by everwitch

After Henry dates a series of certified assholes, Pez has had it and signs Henry up for a sugar dating app. Henry doesn’t expect much at first, but that’s before he connects with Alex; obscenely wealthy, devilishly handsome and unexpectedly sweet, Alex sweeps Henry right off his feet. But what does Alex expect in return for his extravagant generosity? And why is he so secretive about what his life looks like outside of his intimate conversations with Henry?

even sleeping you astonish me by accol

The utter irony. To be at a climate conference and have a storm descend upon the proceedings was perhaps poetic. To have the storm be intense enough to flood half the hotel and cut off transportation to the mainland was concerning. But to have it all culminate in Henry having to share a room with Alex Claremont-Diaz was as if Mother Nature herself was having a laugh.

9 to 5 by smc_27

Henry is Alex’s favourite colleague. By a fucking country mile, to be honest. He’s intensely competent, has an insane memory for process and policy, and is kind to everyone. Also? He’s fucking pretty, and Alex might be new to bisexuality, but he’s not that new. He knows what he likes, and what he likes are men with pretty eyes and kind smiles and nice cheekbones and English accents. Other men, too, but like. Be serious. Henry’s top of the list. Unfortunately, Henry lives in London. Alex lives in New York City. They work closely together and meet once a week, if not more, and Slack one another almost every day. Alex is on the legal team, and Henry is in business operations, and the second Alex met Henry for the first time, he knew he was truly fucked.

before the first light by stutteringpeach

“I don’t feel anyone. And I’m not going to feel anyone. Because I don’t have a soulmate.” Alex looks confused. “What? Everyone has a—“ “I don’t have a soulmate,” Henry tells him with a sigh, “because I don’t have a soul.”

Song In My Head by MayQueen517

Henry is an explorer and finds himself in a different situation entirely. === He’s restrained. By vines. His wrists and his ankles are encased in the surprisingly soft vines and around him is the scent of blooming honeysuckle that had charmed him so the night before. Henry groans, tilting his head back and he’s aware, briefly, of the vines gently supporting his head, as if they’re concerned over his comfort.

learning to love (without it having to hurt) by viciouslyqueer

Alex nods. “I get that.” He pauses. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right? If things aren’t great.” Henry’s face softens, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “I know,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” He turns back to the television, and Alex forces himself to do the same. He tears his gaze away from Henry’s profile and focuses on their Star Wars marathon again, refusing to acknowledge how cuddly Henry looks in soft pajamas and fuzzy, mismatched socks. Alex’s heart leaps in his chest anyway. He knew having a crush on his roommate would be confusing, frustrating, and borderline heartbreaking. None of that stopped him.

address me properly by headabovethewater

25. Royalty kink

Pitching a Tent by cmere

Henry looks Alex up and down appraisingly. Alex feels heat rising in his neck and wills it to stop, burning with curiosity about what Henry’s going to ask. He finally says in a low voice, “Are you a serial killer?” Alex smirks. “Even if I was a serial killer, wouldn’t I just say no to get you alone?” “Dammit, you’re right,” Henry says, grinning. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances then.” “Live dangerously, sweetheart.” - or - “our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi i guess we’re spending the weekend together” AU!

take my hand if you can take me as i am by anincompletelist

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked. 

'till the gravity's too much by IndestructibleHeart

He’s been pacing the length of the house for the better part of an hour now, restless after 48 hours of involuntary confinement. The blizzard outside is unrelenting, to the point that city officials have recommended staying indoors until conditions clear. It’s actually a “suggestion” that Alex might’ve tested if a) Henry weren’t taking the ‘sTaTe oF eMeRgEnCy’ so seriously and b) if not for the fact that their door has literally been frozen shut. “Baby,” Alex says, deliberate and slow, because he knows it’ll earn him the long-suffering, utterly helpless expression it always does. “I’m crawling out of my skin here. Can you just… distract me?”

a quick study by @whimsymanaged

Alex is new to bisexuality, and he turns to a friend for some guidance.

where every wish comes true by HypnosTheory

“Locked out?” “I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.” Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?” -- Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

Anything You Want by somuchworse

Alex rubs his thumb against the stubble on his chin, a soothing balm to the fire melting it’s way through Henry’s bloodstream. “You can tell me, baby. Whatever it is, I won’t care. I won’t judge you. Nothing. I’ll just listen.” And that helps. Henry opens his eyes, and his blood cools just enough to let him speak as he peers up at Alex through his eyelashes. “I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve tried on my own, and with other people, and I always get close… But then it disappears. So, yeah. Never had one.”

I did one thing right (starry eyes sparking up my darkest night) by theprinceandagcd

"Sighing happily, Alex focuses on the feeling of Henry’s arm around his back. The tips of Henry’s fingers are brushing featherlight up and down his spine, and Alex can feel goosebumps rising on the flesh in their wake. It’s so fucking tranquil that Alex is pretty sure he could die right now and be perfectly content with his life, except – 'We should get married.' 'Pardon?' Oh. Fuck. He said that out loud."

like strawberries on a summer evening by Anonymous

He saw something wiggle in the blanket pile, and then Alex’s face appeared under a mop of messy curls, frown stuck firmly onto his face. “Ugh,” he said, from his spot on the bed. - Alex is having a rough time, and Henry is concerned, like any good boyfriend would be.

even though we know it isn't true by matherine

For so long, academics had been the one thing Alex could count on when everything else in his life was falling apart, the one thing he had always been good at. It didn’t matter that his parents were getting divorced as long as he could figure out how to factor an equation, didn’t matter that June was moving out to go to UT-Austin as long as he could analyze Jane Eyre, didn’t matter that his mother was on the campaign trail more often than he ever saw her as long as he could balance lacrosse with his position as valedictorian. But now, every time a paper comes across his desk marked to within an inch of its life, bleeding a C – or even worse, a D scrawled in bright red ink, his chest grows a little tighter, his breathing a little quicker. Thankfully, he’d not yet managed to fuck up spectacularly enough to get himself a real, honest to God F. He’s not sure he’d survive it. He’s already not sure how well he’s surviving. Alternatively: Alex is failing a class. Henry learns how to help him cope.

Twice the speed (of you and me) by @myheartalivewrites

“Hey. So, you know Pez?” Alex asks bluntly. No easy way into this, he’s decided. Henry looks up from his phone, frowning. “My best mate?” “Yeah, that one.” ——— Alex has an idea.

Don't Quit It by inexplicablymine

“And goddamn last but not least on my Hit It and Don’t Quit It list would be the Saracens rugby player Henry Fox. That man has great depths, and he could so easily plumb my depths, if you know what I’m saying. An all-around fantastic player, but also someone who is ridiculously smart off the field. And we all know by now that everyone on this list features my mile-wide competency kink. Henry, if you are seeing this, we could play around with some balls that aren’t just in play.” Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Alex has just accidentally outed himself to 6.7 million people. And according to the comments section, they seem to be all too aware. Or... Announcing your crush via viral TikTok... that's one way to get his attention ;)

Hall of Fame by politics_and_prose

“It is an unbelievable honor to be inducted into the New York Mets Hall of Fame. If I could tell the eight year old boy sitting in the stands at Shea that we would end up here, I don’t think I would. This journey has been … it’s been everything to me. Thank you, New York, for loving me as much as I love you. Thank you.”

Sip You Like Cosmic Juice by @sparklepocalypse

“There’s this… charity rugby match in Windsor next month that my mate, Percy’s foundation organizes. I, um… I was wondering if you might want to… be my guest.” Here’s the thing – Alex knows that Henry is athletic and strong. He’d felt and, to some extent, seen evidence of this in the way Henry’s hands had gripped at his waist and back in the Red Room, the ease with which Henry had manhandled him onto the sofa in his bedroom, and in how solid Henry had felt beneath him as they’d tumbled into the supply closet at London Children’s Hospital. And Henry’s a royal – being sporty seems to be a baseline job requirement for modern royals. So yeah, Alex knows Henry’s got some muscle, and as he walks toward the stands that line either side of the rugby pitch in Windsor, Alex thinks he’s prepared. He finds a seat in the stands among spectators wearing the colors of Henry’s team – red, white, and blue – then scans the pitch for a familiar head of blond hair. It’s probably for the best that he’d sat down first, because when his gaze alights on Henry out on the field, Alex promptly swallows his tongue. (Movieverse; what if everything's the same, except the charity sporting event is rugby?)

if you ever want me to tag you, let me know!

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #do yourselves a favor and mind the tags!

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Wisdom Teeth Removal

Your girl is getting her wisdom teeth yanked today so here's how I think the cast reacts on anesthesia

Heartslaybul

Riddle: He's so so sleepy, and starts crying when he's told he can't sleep yet. He's very emotional, just wants cuddles, BUT he gets really excited when he can still eat like the custard part of a tart.

Trey: He's just Not Present whatsoever, he's in a different dimension. Just leave him to his thoughts and make sure he eats he's fine.

Cater: Does a tiktok with a before and after audio. However when he sees himself in the camera he starts crying and calling himself ugly, he needs cuddles and reassurance. In relationships where it is appropriate, he will try to kiss his partner and get So Sad when they won't kiss him

Deuce: Also pretty spacey, starts crying when he hears/sees his mom, but is also convinced he's spiderman.

Ace: Flirts with the nurse on the way to the car, is convinced he's being kidnapped like....

"Y'all are kidnappin me?"

"no we'r-"

"Its cuz I'm hot ahaha" *fuckboy face*

when he notices his bandaid he gets mad "I ain't a fuckin pussy, take it off"

Savanaclaw

Leona: He doesn't have wisdom teeth this son of a bitch. and although I really want to imagine Leona on anesthesia, chances are hes still just sleepy and gets mad when he cant have burger

Ruggie: Is convinced his gauze falling out is his tongue and panics, "I cant afford that" and while crying tries to stuff it back into his mouth

Jack: my poor baby is bullied so much by his upperclassmen that he's convinced that they took his legs too and just starts crying. They let himvideocall with his siblings and he starts crying and telling them how much he loves them.

Octavinelle

Azul: wough baby boy is so out of it, he doesnt even notice when smoothie starts dripping down his chin bc he can't feel it. He starts crying if you tell him he's making a mess, but is fine the moment he's shown he's clean.

Jade + Floyd: Wakes up during surgery around the same time as Floyd and both of them are trying to talk to each other and laughing because they cant with peoples hands in their mouths. Also this links to a tiktok thats like them. After.

Scarabia

Kalim: I can't find the video, but when he's sitting in the chair after surgery he notices a nurse leave the room and starts crying. "They should be here. Everyone should be here to see me"

Jamil: He and Najma get them done at the same time, he's emotional, she's making fun of him, gets confused in a funny way when he cries and tells him to stop being a baby

Pomefiore

Vil: He gets mad if you record him, he's still coherent enough to know he doesnt want a phone in his face, but the audio clips are immaculate. Compares himself to god more than once.

Rook: Son of a bitch doesnt have wisdom teeth >:(

Epel: Pulls his shirt away from his chest to look down and gets sad "they didn't gimme my muscles" and is absolutely miserable

Ignihyde

Idia: Ortho fucks around with him some, puts pringles cans on his arms and convinces him he's ironman/some equivalent from an anime or something. Mans is hyper in attitude but wont get up from his chair. Yes Ortho livestreams it to the rest of Ignihyde.

Ortho: N/A

Diasomnia

Malleus: he's really weepy after getting his wisdom teeth out. Lilia convinces him that his horns have grown legs and walked away and Malleus proceeds to cry more until his favourite person shows up and all is right in the world again.

Lilia: He's a runner he's a track staaaar, someone put him on a leash because he will unlock and open the door of a moving vehicle to try to jump out (HC that medical practitioners can enforce magic restraints so that while a patient is incapable of making an informed decision they cannot use magic) also dances a lot. Looooves to talk on the phone,ven if theres nobody on the other end.

Silver: Sleepy baby stays a sleepy babyyyy

Sebek: He has the widest fucking eyes at everything, everything feels waaaaay too fast for him, but its the first time hes so quiet , hes like dead silent

Masterlist

#twst #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #deuce spade #ace trappola #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil shoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmeir #idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver #sebek zigvolt #v talks

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 ao3

Eddie helps Steve upstairs, lets him go in the bathroom first. By the time Eddie has gone in there himself, has finished brushing his teeth… he overhears Steve on the phone in his bedroom.

Eddie pauses. He hadn’t heard the phone ringing, but he might not have been able to catch it under the sound of running water. He will never know who called first.

Then he wonders why that even matters so much—or more, what kind of difference it would make. Whether it makes a difference at all.

He doesn’t know whether to leave Steve to it, but his gut tells him to follow the sound of Steve’s voice.

Steve is sat on the bed, the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. His hands are in his lap; he’s pinching at the skin just before his thumb again. Pinching hard.

“No, no, I’m good. Yeah, the… no, the news must’ve exaggerated, mom. Well, a window broke here, but… yeah, lucky escape, right?”

He lies so easily, lies with a smile… even while he’s crying.

Eddie thinks that if he closed his eyes and just listened, he might never have known. Steve’s tears are perfectly silent, his voice steady. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you go. Hey, mom?” And Steve’s breathing hitches just once. Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who can really hear it. “Thanks for the tapes.” He laughs, voice wavering for only a second. “Just came into my head, that was all. Thought I’d better say.” He swallows. “Love you, too.”

It’s only once he’s hung up that Steve allows himself to let go, and even then he’s quiet—passing a hand roughly over his eyes, sniffling very occasionally. Then he looks over at Eddie, left frozen in the doorway.

“They don’t know, okay? I don’t want you thinking…” Steve sighs. “I changed my emergency contacts ages ago. Hopper, Joyce, Robin—hell, I even put Claudia down ‘cause Dustin’s a nosey little shit and I know he’d pick up. It’s… easier this way,” he says.

And Eddie suspects that while Steve’s ostensibly talking about The Upside Down stuff, he also means something more.

Eddie thinks of Wayne, of how easy he makes everything—how all he said was Try me in the hotel room, right before his understanding of the world was changed forever. How Eddie has never, not once, had to doubt his love.

Steve wipes perfunctorily at his eyes then reaches for his crutches.

“Come downstairs with me? I wanna show you something.”

-

Steve directs Eddie to a video tucked behind the musicals collection. Eddie puts it in to play before taking a look at the cover.

Simon and Garfunkel - The Concert in Central Park.

“You educating me on more music, Steve?”

But instead of taking the opportunity to make a joke, Steve hesitates. “Yeah… if you like.”

Another pause, like he’s readying himself, lining up to the edge of a diving board.

Steve breathes in and out. Nods at the screen. “September 19th, ‘81. I was there. And I, um…” His hand briefly rubs over his sternum, like he’s not even aware that he’s doing it, then taps more deliberately on his temple. “I ran there, too.”

Eddie’s breath catches at the implication.

“Worked for a bit, too. But it was—everything was hard to, like, hold onto. Like water slipping through your fingers kinda thing.”

Eddie nods. Clears his throat. “You don’t have to… to say, but. Why were you in New York? Late vacation?”

Steve winces, clearly tries to cover it up.

But Eddie sees. He sighs and closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re—” Steve shakes his head, laughs a bit. “No, you’re not. How were you s’posed to…? No, not a vacation. My Grandpa, on my mom’s side—he lived in New York. And, um… my Grandma, she died a couple of months before, so my mom was already… struggling. And then, when he died, she… there was a lot left for to do, I think. I don’t remember what—just that she was left trying to clean his big house, and my dad was being an asshole, and her brother—my uncle—he might as well have not been there. So she booked a hotel room for me, just so I wasn’t caught up in the screaming match and stuff, y’know? And that day, I just kinda… wandered.”

Eddie can picture it: Steve, a little lost, perhaps, while trying to appear anything but. A boy trying to be a man.

“And I saw whole groups of people heading to the park, so I asked about it. The concert was free, so…” Steve looks off to the side, sighing. “And I just thought… they were my mom’s favourite, y’know?” His voice goes just slightly higher in pitch, strained with emotion, like he’s that kid all over again, unable to solve his mother’s problems. “Her favourite, and she couldn’t even go see them ‘cause it… it was just so shitty. Shitty situation all round. Figured I might as well see them for her. Like that could make things better. Sounds stupid out loud, but…”

“No,” Eddie says, “it doesn’t.”

Steve’s mouth ticks upwards in brief acknowledgment. “It rained while we were waiting, off and on. But, man, I got a great view. There were these two girls—God, they seemed so much older to me at the time, but they were probably only mid-twenties or something. Anyway. They saw I was alone, got kinda concerned I hadn’t brought a jacket, so they gave me one, let me sit on their picnic rug.” This time, his smile has more strength behind it. “Guess they kinda babysat me, huh?”

Eddie smiles back. “Makes a change.”

I’m glad they were there. I’m glad that you weren’t alone.

Steve laughs to himself when America plays, as the lyric, “She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy,” is sung.

He answers just ahead of the words that follow, delivering them with a grin as if he’s having a conversation with someone: “I said, ‘Be careful, his bow-tie is really a camera.’” He snorts at Eddie’s questioning look, says, “At Starcourt, Dustin had me looking for Russian spies through a pair of binoculars, it was fucking ridiculous… I loved it. Anyway, he didn’t get the bow-tie reference, just went on about how ‘this isn’t James Bond, Steve, this is serious.’ What a butthead.”

And Steve laughs even more as a cover of The Everly Brothers begins: Wake Up Little Susie.

“Oh, dude, I gave Dustin so much shit with this song, you don’t even know. Told him he brought it on himself, like, don’t tell me your girlfriend from Camp Know Nothing’s name, that’s just giving me ammo.”

But as Steve imitates Dustin whining, all Eddie can think is that he’s seeing something far more than just Steve delighting in riling Dustin up. That what he’s really seeing is Steve showing how deeply he cares… How he does it so easily, so inconspicuously, as if it’s just a little thing, just I heard a song and thought of you—like he can’t help it, that’s just how he loves: his mind making connections that spread out everywhere, as large and generous as his heart.

They chat leisurely for most of the setlist, Eddie gasping when someone storms the stage during The Late Great Johnny Ace.

“Shit, I forgot that happened. And you were there, man!”

They both keep quiet all the way through Bridge over Troubled Water. Eddie’s heard the song before, but now it suddenly seems like he’s hearing it for the very first time, his throat tight. Like it’s only now that he’s truly understood it.

From the silence, maybe Steve is thinking something similar. Maybe.

The room lightens with 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.

“This one always makes me think of Robin,” Steve says, smiling as the brass kicks in, miming like she does: a little wiggle of the fingers to simulate pressing down on a trumpet’s valves.

“Thought you’re meant to be helping her find a lover, not lose one.”

Steve chuckles.

“No, I meant… like at work, if we’re arguing over who takes out the trash or whatever, I’ll call her Jack, y’know, like ‘slip out the back, Jack’? Or ‘make a new plan, Stan.’ Stuff like that.”

That’s fucking adorable, what the fuck.

Out loud, Eddie says, “Cute,” just so Steve makes that abashed sort of half-smile.

In the middle of The Boxer, Eddie briefly plays his guitar. He gets the melody down by ear—it’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, his fingers clumsily moving through the chords.

But Steve watches like he can’t notice any of the obvious stumbles made, gives a soft, awed, “Wow,” when Eddie is done. Then he adds, almost a whisper, “Was it… did you learn it like that back when…?”

Eddie pauses. Remembers hearing that faint whisper of My Little Town as his head nodded in spite of his fierce efforts to stay awake. Seeing the hint of a frown flicker across Steve’s face. The slimmest hope.

Learning Steve’s song had been unlike any other. All he had to go on, lying on the bed of that hotel room in the early hours of the morning, was that little snippet he had heard—just that, and perhaps faint memories he had no concrete hold of, ones that felt dreamlike: a snatch of Wayne humming along to it on the radio, when he couldn’t have been more than ten or so.

Eddie sang the words that he could, skipped the ones he didn’t know—prayed that it was enough; it had to be enough.

It had felt like time didn’t exist, just him and the song, slowly getting stitched together—even now, he can feel it under his fingertips, as if the notes are like splinters forever embedded in his skin. But not painful, never that, just an inevitable part of him.

Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes.

“No,” he answers softly. “It was… easier, almost. Had to be.” He smiles, a little bittersweet, as Steve’s brows knit together in thought. “Couldn’t afford any mistakes, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Sorry.”

Eddie laughs, light but disbelieving. “What the fuck for?”

Steve glances between Eddie and the guitar. “‘Cause you love playing, Eddie. And I… I don’t know, I didn’t want you to have… like, pressure? And, um… bad memories tied to it, I guess.”

Eddie shakes his head and sets the guitar aside. “Okay. You better listen close, Steve.”

Steve huffs through a smile. “Listening.”

“It’s… all of that, Steve, s’not tied to a bad memory, man, not even close. It brought you back, that’s… words can’t even fucking…” Eddie shakes his head again. “And fine, even if it had, even if I really thought after this, I can never play again, guess what? It would’ve been worth it. Fuck, I would’ve chosen it a thousand times and never regretted it. Got it?”

Steve stares at him. He blinks, and for a moment it looks like he might cry, but then he just nods, chin wobbling ever so slightly.

“Got it,” he says hoarsely.

They’ve talked right through the encore. Eddie distantly hears Paul Simon yell at the crowd, “Let's have our own fireworks!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, and Eddie can see a memory spark in his eyes.

You’re so beautiful, Steve Harrington.

“I remember this. They were gonna use, uh, pyrotechnics but they weren’t allowed, so—look, see how everyone’s getting lighters out? I didn’t have one, but one of the girls gave me hers. And I remember…” Steve’s voice softens. “It was dark, and when I got the flame going, I just—I saw it out the corner of my eye. The girls, they were holding hands on the rug. And like, I knew it… it wasn’t for me to… y’know, and I didn’t say anything obviously. I didn’t really know what to… what I was feeling, right?” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Fucking rare for me to know anything about what I was thinking, back then. I was kind of an idiot. More than.”

Eddie says, gently, “I dunno, Steve. If you ask me, being a kid isn’t the same thing as being an idiot.”

Steve hums, tilts his hand back and forth as if to say debatable. “God, I talk a lot. Didn’t plan on… guess I just.” He shrugs. “Guess I just wanna tell you things.”

“Fine by me,” Eddie says. “I like listening.”

I always like listening to you. Tell me everything, if you want. I’ll be here.

There’s another shot of the crowd on screen, and Eddie crawls forward as he asks, “Where were you?”

“It’s too dark to see, man.”

“Try me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think I haven’t tried to find myself already? Ugh, fine, fine. We were kinda near the front, so…” He thinks, clicking his tongue, then points to just a few rows back from the stage, near the far-left of the screen. “Thereabouts.”

Eddie follows Steve’s direction, presses a fingertip there. Feels the warm static of the screen. And though he can’t really see anything, doesn’t even know if Steve is right with his guess or not, it’s like he can sense it anyway; he doesn’t need proof. Like he’s reaching back in time to a boy from five years ago, and he thinks…

Hey, Steve Harrington. The world’s gonna get… fucking crazy for you soon, but it’ll be fine in the end, trust me. You’re one of the bravest people I know. You’re gonna be okay.

During the final encore, Steve inhales like he’s about to say something, but he yawns instead—covers his mouth with the back of his hand a beat too late, like it’s caught him by surprise.

“Mm, sorry. Used to put this on when I couldn’t sleep. Guess it still works.”

Eddie looks over at him, at how his eyes are drowsy, like a child lulled by the gentle rocking of a car journey. Feels his heart give a little twist at the sight.

He ejects the tape, turns off the T.V. When he turns back, he sees that Steve has made room for him on the couch without saying anything about it.

Eddie slips over the arm of the couch, nestles in so smoothly that the couch barely sags at all, so Steve’s leg won’t be bumped; it comes so naturally now, the two of them slotting together like the easiest jigsaw puzzle in the world.

There’s a short silence, and then Eddie speaks in an undertone, just in case Steve has already fallen asleep.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Your, uh… your song. It didn’t play at that concert.”

He glances over, catches Steve’s fleeting grin, as if he’s thinking well spotted.

“Good, um, what is it Henderson says, in D&D? Good perception thingy.”

Eddie laughs in surprise. “Sure, something like that.”

Steve smiles at him. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable, more honeyed. Slow.

And Eddie feels a warmth atop his hand: Steve’s fingers overlapping with his. For a moment, he thinks it’s just an accidental brush, but then Steve doesn’t move away.

And neither does he.

Steve sighs. Squeezes Eddie’s hand, like he’s trying to reassure him of something, but for the life of him Eddie can’t work out what it is—just knows that Steve looks almost sad, and he wishes he wouldn’t. It’s breaking his heart.

“I just… I need some more time.” There’s something in Steve’s eyes that’s so vulnerable, suddenly. “Is that… is that okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eddie says immediately, because nothing would stop him from saying so, even as his mind whirs in thought. “Don’t need to ask, Steve. Yes.”

Steve smiles, squeezes his hand again. Eddie can hear what he means this time: Thank you.

“Think I’m gonna fall asleep on you now,” Steve says with another long yawn.

“That’s fine. I’m kinda used to it,” Eddie says, letting out a huff of amusement when Steve mock glares at him through heavy eyes, fighting to keep them open.

“Shut up. Can’t help it.”

“Oh, so I am boring?”

“No. Told you b’fore. No.”

Eddie slowly reaches out—smiles when Steve’s eyes close before his hand even touches his forehead.

“What, then?” he asks quietly.

Steve hums. Sighs again. “You want the… all cards on the table kinda answer?”

Eddie breathes in. Holds it. Breathes out as silently as he can. Feels Steve’s hand still on his, fingers trailing over his knuckles, slowing as sleep approaches.

“Only if—if that’s what you want, too, then… yeah?”

Steve smiles. “Hmm, ‘kay. Here it comes.” His breathing deepens, and for a moment Eddie thinks that he’s already drifted off, but then Steve says, “I really… really like you, Eddie. You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s nose stings. Shit, he might be on the verge of crying. He bites his lip to keep himself from making a sound.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

And the thing is, he knows he’s said it before. But it feels different now—feels louder, somehow, even though he’s only whispered it. Because Steve isn’t asleep, not yet. Eddie knows that he’s heard.

Steve’s finger taps softly on the back of Eddie’s hand, spaced out slowly. Three times. Like heartbeats.

“Mm. R’lax, Eddie. Don’t need to… stop yourself.”

“…Stop?” Eddie asks, voice small.

“Been called worse things, y’know?” A yawn, almost silent. Slow and sweet. “I don’t mind it.”

A minute, maybe more. And then Steve falls asleep just like that, looking so…

So peaceful.

“You’re… safe.”

Eddie’s eyelashes are wet.

Here it comes, he thinks. It’s like the tide coming in.

Here it comes.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs.

He says it even though he knows Steve is sleeping, says it right through the inevitable aching of his heart.

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thank u for all the kind words & messages as ever ❤️ #steve and dustin #steve and robin

[aalyssah]

Thirsty

Pairing: Austin Theory x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Choking, Degradation, Fingering, Hair Pulling, Praise, Protected Sex, and Quickie. Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 2438

Summary: When sunbathing outside, your brothers best friend, Austin, thinks it's a good idea to cannon ball in the pool, splashing water all over you and when you cry to your Dad, he is forced to help you clean up.

A/N: Austin is your Brothers Best Friend in this story. Hope You Enjoy!

The sun was beautiful outside when you woke up, and the weather was just as perfect.

You instantly made plans to get a tan, slipping your bikini on and going outside. You made your spot on a lounge chair, letting the sun soak up your body.

The door opened in your home with it being your brother and his friend Austin. "Alright man, I'm gonna go pick up my Mom from work. Dad's been planning a surprise party for her, so my Dad is here and Y/n's probably at the pool, since 'It's a good day outside.'" Grayson said, imitating your voice at the end.

Austin chuckled, watching as his friend left the house and back into his car. He then made his way towards the backdoor, seeing you laying on the lounge chair.

He snuck up behind you, slowly tip-toeing until he got right behind you. "BOO!" You let out a scream, jumping out your chair, turning around only to see Austin. He was cackling up a storm at your reaction.

A frown came to your face as you put together that it was him who scared you. "You asshole! You scared me!" You yelled at him angrily. Austin wiped a tear away from his eye. "Oh man, and it was funny too!"

Your frown was permanent on your face. "I'm gonna tell my Dad, and we'll see who's laughing then." Austin rolled his eyes, sucking his teeth. "Of course you will." You cocked an eyebrow.

What did he mean by that?

"Well, my throat is kinda parched. Go be useful for once and fetch me a lemonade from the fridge." Austin jerked back a little, looking shocked at your demanding order.

He was gonna say something snarky, but if he had to deal with your Dad. He would never hear the end of it from you. "Fine. Bitch." He whispered the last word on his way to the fridge.

Who do you think you are, demanding him around when he's the guest? An idea came to his mind as he grabbed the pitcher and poured lemonade in a glass cup with ice. You're thirsty? He's gonna make sure your whole body is hydrated.

He came back out with the lemonade, handing it to you. "Here you go, my majesty." He joked, taking a bow. You snatched the glass out his hand, taking a long sip. "Thank you peasant, now run along."

Austin turned around, only going into the living room. He stripped from his shirt and pants, only leaving him in his boxers. Once again, he crept around with slow steps, watching you look up at the sun.

It was all quiet until he ran full speed, yelling, "Cannon ball!" You didn't have enough time to react and then you felt it. The cold water, splashing all over you. It felt like a bucket of water was literally dumped on you.

You gasped for air as you quickly sat up, wiping water from your eyes. "You did not." You said in an angry, but calm tone. Austin smiled as he got out of the pool. "I just did."

You opened your eyes, throwing him the most hateful look. "I can't believe you just did that!" Austin laughed, reaching to rub your shoulder soothingly.

"I was looking out for you. I thought you were thirsty since your body was sitting out in the sun all day." You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, an annoyed groan coming out your mouth. "Dad!" You yelled, stomping into the house.

Austin's eyes grew big as he watched you make your way towards the door. He rushed into action, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you into his chest. "Dad- mmm-"

Your voice got muffled as his hand came to your mouth to quiet you down. "Shh, please don't call him." You then bit his hand, earning a cry from him. "Ow! W-Why’d you do that?" He asked, looking down at his hand that began to turn red from your bite mark.

"You had your hand on my mouth! Why are you trying to stop me? I told you earlier that I would call my Dad. Did you think I was joking?" Austin let out a sigh, his head hanging low. "Alright, look I'm sorry, just don't call your Dad. He's gonna yell at me home, and then Grayson gonna be in my ass, and I'll be bored as fuck."

Now it was your turn to smirk. Now all of a sudden, the cocky Austin Theory was begging you not to call your Dad because he didn't want to get in trouble.

"Okay, I won't call my Dad, but on only one condition." Austin groaned, knowing that 'but' was coming. "You have to do everything I say for the rest of the day."

Austin rolled his eyes, knowing you were gonna say something like that. "You always wanna be in control, huh?" You giggled, picking up your sunglasses, and sitting back down in your lounge chair.

"Sure, now go fetch me some grapes, and feed them to me." Austin stood there, looking down at you in disbelief. "Are you serious?" He asked.

You pulled your sunglasses down, peeking at him from over the lenses. "Did I stutter? Now go, peasant!" Austin went back inside, going to the kitchen and getting some grapes before coming back out.

He picked up some grapes and held them up to your mouth. One by one, you ate each grape, a satisfied hum coming from you. "I'm done with those, get me my lemonade." Austin put the bag down on the table and gave you your lemonade.

You took small sips before handing it back to him. You sigh, sitting up in the chair. "I think I wanna take a dip." You stood up and walked to the pool. Austin watched you like a hawk as you slowly stepped in the water.

The bathing suit hugged your body just right. You looked really good and it took everything in him to not pounce on you, but he can't. You're his best friend's sister.

Austin tried to get in the pool with you, but you stopped him. "Uh, no sir, you're not allowed to get in. You better sit on the floor, and watch me swim." Austin didn't even try to argue this time as he took a seat on the hot floor.

He had to watch you swim for 20 minutes, eyes not leaving your body. It was then you finally got out, water dripping from your body.

You fixed your top as it started coming up in the water and Austin had to sniffle a groan. You walked right past him and into the living room. "Come on!" You called out and Austin got up to follow you into the house.

You ended up in the laundry room, hands on your hips as Austin looked at you, not knowing what to do. "Well?" Austin cocked an eyebrow. "Take this wet stuff off me, and put it in the machine." Austin gulped, looking at you.

Like said before, you're his best friend's sister. This is very appropriate and he doesn't think he'll be able to control himself if he sees you naked. It doesn't help that he's still in his boxers from earlier.

"Turn around." He ordered. He reached up and pulled the tied knot in your bikini top and it fell down. He then went for your bottoms, pulling at the knots on each side.

Now you were fully naked, but back still turned to him. "Get my clothes and put them in the machine, and then go upstairs and fetch-" Austin cut you off. He was done. "Y'know what, no! I'm tired of doing this and it's only been an hour, there's no way I'm gonna survive this for a whole day." You turned around to face him, breast swaying at your movement.

Austin's eyes were wide and trained on you. He tried so hard not to look down. He really did, but his eyes looked down at your breast and back up at you. That's when a smirk came to your face. "Oh, I see. You're distracted aren't you?" You chuckled.

"How about this? If you fuck me right here, right now, you can stop being my peasant, if not, I'll tell my Dad everything you did." Austin thought real hard and long about this deal. It was a win-win for him, but it's so wrong. You're his best friend's sister, that's all he could think about.

Something in him told himself to ignore that fact and he picked you up, setting you on top of the washing machine. You let out a surprised squeal, your hands cupping his cheeks. "I knew you wanted to-" Your sentence was cut off by Austin's lips roughly smacking on yours.

You moaned into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Austin pulled back with a groan from the taste of you. Your lips were so sweet and he bet you tasted even sweeter.

Which is why he pulled your legs apart and ran his hand down your heat. "Fuck, you're so wet.” You whined at his touch, bucking your hips into his hand.

Austin chuckled at your needy reaction, a finger circling your entrance. "Can I?" You nodded, grabbing his wrist and pulling it closer. "Please." Austin slowly pushed his finger in, groaning at how tight you gripped his fingers.

"Oh fuck." You whined, letting your head fall back against the wall. Austin smirked, seeing your cunt suck up his finger and as he pulled it out, he could see the wetness drenching it. "God, you're so wet and I don't think it was from the pool."

Through your pleasurable expression, you gave him a glare which caused him to laugh. "I have a finger inside you and you're still giving me that glare." You wanted to argue back, call him names, or even threaten to call your Dad, but his finger, that damn finger was giving you pleasure.

His thumb came up and circled your clit, as his pace increased. Your legs clamped shut around his arm, a hand coming to your mouth. You couldn't be too loud. "Gotta stretch you out for me. Think you're ready now."

You whined when he pulled his finger out, sucking your juices off it with a hum. "Just as sweet as your lips taste." A blush came to your cheeks at his compliment.

He quickly pulled down his boxers, stroking himself while you reached over in the dirty clothes and searched through a pile of your Dad's jeans. You searched through his pockets and pulled out a condom.

Austin looked puzzled for a second. Were you planning this all along? "My Dad always forgets to check his pockets. And I know him and my Mom be fucking." You winked, Austin's eyes growing wide.

"Hey, they're only 38 and 40, whenever they can get some alone time is when they do it, and trust me, they have a lot of alone time." Austin chuckled, taking the condom out your hand and ripping it open with his teeth.

You watched as he rolled the condom in his cock, stroking it a couple of times. He then rubbed his tip against your entrance, teasing you. "Austin if you don't put it in I'm gonna-" You were cut off with a moan as his cock slowly pushed in you.

"What? You gonna tell your Dad?" Austin said in a teasing tone. He started off with slow thrusts, pushing his hips forward, watching as his cock disappeared inside you.

"You're so tight, and warm." He breathed out, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. "C'mere." You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

He was now skin to skin with you and god did it feel good. Your warm body and cunt squeezing around him so nicely.

He fucked you in a slow rhythm, making sure you felt every vein in his cock. "Austin-" You mewled, arms wrapping around his neck. Austin's head went to your neck to muffle his moans, placing small pepper kisses on your flesh.

You even felt him nibble which caused you to whine. "Austin, don't leave any marks. My Dad will kill me." You cried out, but your protests went deaf in his ears. He was too deep and focused on you and your pussy.

He hasn't seen you with many men so it really shouldn't be surprising that you're this tight. "God I don't know how long I'm gonna last. You're- you're gripping my cock so hard- fuck!" Austin groaned as you clenched down on him once more.

Your nails were raking up his back as his hips increased their pace. A small clapping sound was heard in the room as the washing machine shook and it wasn't even on.

His hand then reached in between your connected bodies and played with your clit, rubbing and punching at the sensitive bud. "Oh my god!" You cried out, hands gripping his hair as you came. Austin grunted, his balls tightening up.

The sound of footsteps were missed in your hearing, but the knock on the door. "Sweetheart, you okay in there?" It was your Dad.

You felt Austin tense up as he gave you a look. "Answer him." He whispered quietly. "Uh, y-yeah. I just stubbed my toe and it hurt really badly." You mentally cursed yourself out in your head.

That was a bad excuse.

"Oh okay, I heard you yelling and I thought something was wrong. Anyways, let me get outta your hair." You heard your Dads footsteps walk away, making Austin's body finally relaxing.

Austin pulled out of you, pulling his boxers back up his legs. "That was too close. Imagine if he opened the door." Austin said, worry all in his tone. "Austin, calm down he wasn't gonna come in here." Austin nodded his head, taking a deep breath.

You were right. Your Dad was too busy focusing on planning your Moms party.

You picked up a shirt from the dirty pile, putting it on your body. "Grayson should be here soon. Go clean yourself up." Austin frowned at your words. Part of him was sad that you just let him fuck you and now you wanted him gone.

"Okay, I'll leave, but promise me one thing." You were silent waiting for him to continue. "Promise me the next time you get thirsty, you'll call me?"

At first you didn't understand what he meant by that, but thinking over the whole situation made you realize.

#austin theory #austin theory smut #austin theory fluff #austin theory imagine #austin theory x reader #austin theory wwe #wwe austin theory #wwe smut #wrestling smut

[girls-alias]

Sisterhood - Winchester Brothers

Title: Sisterhood - Winchester Brothers

Words: 1,278

Relations: Brothers - Sam and Dean Winchester.

TW: Bed wetting, fluff, strong language (1).

Request: @taylorifg

"Heyyy! I was wondering if I could request a supernatural fic. Dean and Sam's little sister (10) has been having really bad nightmares and one night she wakes up in a wet bed. This fic would mean a lot because I struggled with this for a long time🤍🤍 Lots and lots of comfort!!"

Thank you so much for the request as well as consent to post this. I'm so happy you feel comfortable sharing this with not only me but also my readers. I am so sorry for the wait but without further ado...

Taglist: @qinnroki, @moldyorangees, @littlemadamred, @deans-baby-momma, @creative-writing92, @lokischickadee, @take-it-on-the-run, @daisy-the-quake, @ilikw, @selfdestructionandrhum, @globetrotter28, @deans-spinster-witch, @pycobutterpie, @deans-queen, @suckitands33, @pizzagirlxnsfwx, @seasoning-spam, @cxmitrbl

I woke up breathing heavily, tears staining my cheeks and Sam shaking me awake. My bottom lip quivered as I looked around, finally taking a deep breath as I recognised where I was and that I was safe.

"You okay, monkey?" Sam asked softly, his eyes showing how concerned he was. I gulped, breath trembling before the tears fell and sobs consumed me. His arms instantly wrapped around me. His hand flattened my hair as I sobbed into his chest. I jumped when a soft thud sounded beside me.

"Ow," Dean exclaimed annoyed. There was a silence filled with my sobs before shuffling made it apparent that Dean was getting out of bed. "Hey," He spoke softly, something he only did for me. The bed shifted slightly and I knew he was sitting behind me, I looked up confused when he stood up again. Sam looked at him confused. "It's wet," Dean shrugged to answer why he stood up but it only made me cry harder.

Sam and Dean bickered slightly as I wept into Sam's shirt. "You couldn't just live with it for two minutes?" Sam asked, hitting Dean's arm with the back of his hand.

"I just woke up, what did you want me to do?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Be compassionate," Sam spoke through gritted teeth. I could practically hear Dean's eye roll as he groaned. I chuckled softly, moving back from Sam as he looked at me with loving eyes. I forced a smile, my eyebrows twitching as I tried not to cry.

"Alright, come here princess," Dean commented, reaching to pick me up from under my armpits.

"Dean," Sam practically sang his annoyance.

"Shut up," Dean scoffed, holding me close to his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. "Clean the bed," Dean instructed with a smirk as he walked to the table. I giggled as he grinned at me cheekily, sitting me on the table. "What happened? We were doing so well, 4 days without a nightmare," Dean's voice was filled with encouragement. I sniffled as he wiped my eyes. "Was it the same nightmare?" Dean asked softly, he knows just mentioning makes me cry. I nodded softly as my eyes filled. "Oh, baby," He comforted as he pulled me in to hug him. I wrapped my arms around him. He pretended to strain. "Can't breathe," His voice was struggling making me laugh. He chuckled as he pulled back, smiling at me as he moved some hair from my face.

"Keep doing it, monkey, maybe he'll pass out and we'll get some peace and quiet," Sam joked, I laughed as Dean looked at him annoyed. Doing a face Dean calls 'Bitch Face', Sam always tells him off for swearing in front of me but when he isn't around Dean's teaching me as many swear words as he can. I laughed as they bickered again. I smiled happy in the moment. It's times like this when I wish I had been with Sam and Dean my whole life, I've only known them for almost a year but they're everything I've ever dreamed of.

We have the same dad but a different mom. They told me their mom died when they were little and it helped me to bond with them because I knew they understood me. My mom died in a car crash when I was 5, that's what my nightmares are about. I was in the car but got out with just a few scratches. Dean's always saying my scars are cool and he's jealous of them. Sam thinks they make me more interesting. He had to explain it to me but he thinks that it shows character and strength. Sam and Dean have a lot of that. I wish to be like that when I'm older. Just like my big brothers!

People always think I'm one of their kids because of the age gap, Dean likes to tell everyone we're just best friends, and Sam then always says 'She's our sister, don't worry.' It always confused me a little but they say that they'll explain when I'm older. They say that about a lot of things. They say it about why they have guns, what their job is and why we have to move so much. Dean says we're touring America but I don't think that's true.

Their bickering stopped with a final huff from Dean. I chuckled as I watched him roll his eyes before smiling at me. "You know, we still have time," Dean practically sang. I grinned widely knowing exactly what he meant. He helped me off the table, running to grab his blanket while I ran to the couch.

"Dean, she's 10, she's supposed to be sleeping," Sam groaned.

"Hurry up and clean her bed then," Dean snarked back before jumping on the couch. He gave me the blanket, sitting with his legs open waiting for me. I giggled as I wrapped the blanket around myself and sat on the floor between his legs. He instantly started stroking my hair. I hummed happily while he worked the TV to put a random movie on.

We spent the rest of the night watching the movie while Dean braided my hair. He was getting better every day, he liked to joke that Sam was next but it hadn't happened yet. Once Sam finished cleaning my bed, he sat on the floor beside me, hugging me while we watched the movie. Dean was the first to fall asleep. Snoring softly on the couch, Sam and I had a giggle about it before Sam got me ready for bed, he picked out new PJs and helped me clean up.

"It's nearly been a year, have you decided yet?" He asked excitedly. I grinned and chuckled. Sam and Dean have been saying for months that we have to do something special when it's been a whole year since they saved me from my foster parents. They weren't terrible people but I wasn't part of their family. Dean's trying to get me to say I want to go to a waterpark he's been wanting to go to and Sam's telling me that I can choose anything I want. In all honestly, all I want is another day with them. There's nothing I feel like I'm missing out on and there's nothing they wouldn't give me or take me to so there's nothing I really want.

"I just want to be with you," I shrugged, smiling as Sam rolled his eyes playfully.

"Well, of course. We could go anywhere, do anything," Sam prompted hoping to find something I wanted to do. I smiled softly.

"We already go places and we always do fun things." I shrugged but Sam smiled a little sadly.

"Are you happy?" He asked, somehow the question felt easy, simple. I know they struggle to answer it but they're smiling more and more every day.

"Always." I shrugged earning a chuckle from Sam. He smiled at me softly as he moved some hair from my face.

"Let's get you to bed, you can sleep in Dean's," He chuckled cheekily. Scooping me up in his arms before carrying me to Dean's bed. He tucked me in, kissing my head before poking the tip of my nose. "Close your eyes," He whispered. I giggled as I closed my eyes. Sam stroked patterns on my forehead lulling me to sleep as I snuggled in closer to Sam as he sat on the edge of the bed. I smiled, sleep catching up to me as I knew Sam and Dean would chase away any nightmare. Nothing can beat my brothers, they're not scared of anything.

Masterlist

Working On

Taglist

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean #dean winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam #sam winchester #spn fanfic #spn #fluff

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Whumptember 15th: Broken Bone

Oh my! I'm so sorry everyone. I got so busy yesterday that I forgot to upload my story! So here's yesterday's story and as an apology and because we are halfway through Whumptember, today's post may get a little spicy. I don't know if it will be full smut, but I'm going to at least try to add some steam. Sorry again for the delay in this one and I hope you like it! --Anna

You rushed through the doors to the emergency room, walking up to the main intake desk.

“Can I help you?” The lady at the desk asked without looking up from her computer.

“Yes. My son was brought in about thirty minutes ago.”

“What’s the name?” She asked, still seemingly uninterested.

“Theodore Y/L/N”

Upon hearing your answer, she finally looked up. You could see the wheels turning in her head. 

“Y/L/N? Is your son around 10 years old?” When you nodded your head yes as her question, she continued. “You know that the Winter Soldier brought him in right?”

You felt your anger spike. “He’s not the Winter Soldier. His name is Sergeant James Barnes. Please address him as such. Now can I please see my son?”

At your response, her face turned red in embarrassment. “Of course, my apologies. If you’ll follow me please.”

She led you down the hallway to an exam room. Knocking on the door, she then opened it and motioned for you to step inside. Inside was your son, Bucky, and someone who you imagined to be the physician on call. As soon as Bucky saw you, he breathed a sigh of relief, however, you could tell that he was still stressed and nervous.

“Mom! The doctor said I need a cast and I get to pick the color for it!” Your son seemed cheerful and excited and in less pain than you expected, which you were grateful for.

“That’s great Teddy! Be thinking of what color you want while I talk to the doctor for a bit.” You said as you placed a kiss on his forehead and went to sit next to Bucky, taking his metal hand in yours.

The doctor spent the next few minutes explaining that your son had broken his Ulna but luckily the fracture was relatively clean and wouldn’t need surgery to correct anything. A simple plaster cast for the next 6 weeks. After that, they would x-ray it again to see how it was healing but that it shouldn’t need recasted. He said that Bucky had done a good job immobilizing and icing the break before they got to the hospital. It probably saved your son some pain and also kept the injury from getting worse. Bucky forced out a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. The doctor said that someone would be in shortly to apply his cast and he exited the room. 

Your son was busy playing games on his tablet while he waited to get his cast. You turned to Bucky and stared at him long and hard. “What’s going on Buck? I can practically see your wheels turning.” You were still holding his hand and gently caressed the back of his hand. You knew he could feel it but he didn’t acknowledge it. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. We were busy running around the playground and being wild. I should have been more careful. I saw him lose his balance but I couldn’t get to him fast enough.” He shook his head and seemed really upset by the whole scenario.

“Bucky…” You tried to get him to look at you and he just kept looking down at his lap, chewing on side of his cheek. 

“James.” You said more firmly, using a bit of your “mom” voice. Even your son looked up for a moment, until he realized that you weren’t talking to him. He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with apprehension and guilt.

“None of this is your fault. He’s a kid, and a rambunctious one at that. This is not his first time in the ER for something like this, and I highly doubt it will be the last.” You smiled at him kindly. “Do you remember when he chipped two teeth playing hockey last winter? Or when he sprained his ankle trying to jump from one couch to the other. Kids get hurt. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Especially not yours. If anything, you being there kept him safer. He is less hurt and in less pain because you were there and knew what to do.”

He still hadn’t responded, but you nudged him a little with your shoulder. “Hey, I mean it. Thank you. I would have been so much more scared if you hadn't been there with him. I love you.” He finally smiled at you and you could see that he was starting to relax.

You held his hand and rested your head on his shoulder as you waited for the orthopedic tech to come in and cast your son’s arm. When they finally came in, they asked your son what color cast he was going to pick.

“Black.” He said very assuredly. The tech nodded their head and went about wrapping his arm in gauze and padding.

“Really? I thought you would have gone for blue or green?” You questioned him, knowing that those were his favorites.

He shook his head. “No. I want black.”

“Well, okay then.” You let him have his pick. It was his arm anyway. 

“Hey mom, before we go home can we go to the craft store?” 

“What for, bud?” 

“I want a gold paint marker.”

“Why?” You asked him, confused.

“I want to put lines on my cast. That way Bucky and I can match.” He said with the biggest smile on his face.

“W-what?” Bucky sputtered out his question, taken aback by your son.

“Well, my cast is on my left arm and I thought it would be cool to match arms. I mean, if you’re okay with that.” He gave Bucky a small smile, hoping that he hadn’t crossed some line.

“Y-yeah, bud. I’m okay with that. I mean…if your mom says it’s okay.” Bucky looked at you, his eyes slightly misty as he felt your son's love for him. You smiled bigger than you had in a long time.

“I think that sounds like a great plan.”

#whumptember #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader

[rebelliousstories]

Poinsettia

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Selina Kyle x Reader

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Mentions of Death and Angst

Word Count: 1,627

Masterlist: Here

Summary: A little Christmas cheer in their dreadful New York apartment.

“Selina! Sel? Where you at girl?” A voice called out as the door to the shabby New York apartment opened and shut behind the figure. She carried something in her gloved hands, but hid it behind her back when the young woman she shared her home with came through. Her cropped hair was wet, indicating it had been freshly washed. Along with that, the smell of soap crept through the apartment from the shower that had happened before she arrived home.

“Hey baby. I’m here. Sorry, I needed a shower. I felt gross after the club.” Selina came over and pressed a small kiss to her lover’s lips. Her hands wrapped around her waist and felt something behind her back.

“What’s behind your back?” She asked directly. Her girlfriend looked away impishly but refused to offer a response.

“It’s nothing.” She drawled out. Selina leveled a look at her partner and soon retracted her hands to look her more directly in the face.

“Babe?” Selina asked yet again, staring her dead in the eye.

“It’s your Christmas present, okay? Just, let’s go to bed and promise me you won’t look under the tree?” She pleaded and stepped closer to her girlfriend yet again. Selina did not move away, but did cross her arms as her lover tried to be sweet on her. It took several minutes of big eyes, and a smile before Selina relented.

“Fine. I won’t look. But you better hurry up.” She pressed a loving kiss to her girlfriend’s lips, and walked away. The woman, still standing with her hands behind her back, watched her girlfriend’s hips sway as she walked away. She brought her hands back around the front of her body as she walked over to their tree. There were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but that was okay. They did not need much, just each other. She set the big box down behind the other gifts almost out of view, before she stood back up. Her outer layer was shed before she left the living room; her scarf, gloves, and coat were placed on the couch before making her way to the bedroom.

When she got in there, Selina was already reclining on the bed beneath the covers. She held something in her hands, something that her partner recognized immediately. The only remaining picture of her and her mother that Selina held in her possession. Often times, their nights would end with her pulling the picture out of Selina’s hands after she had fallen asleep to keep it from getting lost or damaged. It comforted the woman to hold it; the last remaining thread of innocence she had left. No words were spoken as the other woman got ready for bed. Cleaning her face, brushing her teeth, covering her hair, all of it was done with speed and accuracy you only get from doing the same routine for years and years. Eventually, she climbed into bed with her lover and pulled her into her chest. Selina’s hands still held the photo as she laid her head down on her girlfriend’s chest.

“Your mom would be proud of the woman you have become.” She whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. Selina continued to stroke over her mother’s face in the photo, but her eyes were drawn to something in the corner. A brilliant splotch of red and green were in the corner.

“Did I ever tell you about this photo?” Selina asked, sounding very far away in her own head. She had, in fact, told her lover the story behind this particular photo. But that was not going to stop her from encouraging Selina to tell it again.

“Tell me.” She whispered, pressing another kiss to the head on her chest.

“When I was a kid, my mom couldn’t afford to do a big Christmas. But she would take me to the heart of the city to look at the lights. The one thing we got every year, from the same vendor, was a poinsettia plant. They would sell it to us for a fraction of what they were originally selling it for because they knew my mom. After she died, I never went back. I couldn’t without her.” Her voice trailed off, still lost in her own world as she remembered the snow filled nights where she went into the city to get those plants. Selina felt another kiss placed to her hair, and her lover’s hands rubbing up and down on her arms to soothe her.

Her lover stared at little Selina in the photo and smiled to herself. But her lover’s breathing slowed and eventually Selina was fast asleep. Her body went limp, and the photo dropped on her girlfriend’s stomach. She picked it up and stared for a moment longer, before placing it on her nightstand to protect the picture, turned out the lights, and went to sleep.

Snow filled the air when the couple awoke Christmas Day. They stretched and laid in the warm bed as they tried to wake up. However, with the day off, neither one cared too much about getting started on their day at a reasonable time.

“Merry Christmas, Sel.” She whispered to the woman that was now face to face with her on their sides in bed.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” She replied, laying a kiss upon her lover’s lips. Selina laid there for a moment more before she pulled away, and got out of the bed to head into the bathroom. She began to brush her teeth when her girlfriend came and hugged her from behind.

“My morning breath really that bad, huh?” She joked as she began to brush her own teeth. Selina chuckled lightly, trying desperately not to choke on the toothpaste in her mouth at her lover’s comment.

Once they were both done, a quick breakfast was had of a couple sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but it was enough for the couple on their budget. They made their way to the couch, where she had to move her outerwear from the previous night, and laid down on the couch. The radio in the corner of the room was on a station that played Christmas songs non-stop, which provided some noise for the couple to have in the background. They watched out the window for a while, just enjoying their time together. But eventually, Selina got curious about the large box that was tucked near the wall behind the tree with the rest of the presents.

“Can we open them now?” She asked her girlfriend, turning in her arms to look her in the eyes. When she nodded, Selina excitedly got up and immediately went to the large box behind the tree.

“Wait!” Selina stopped at her lover’s exclamation. She looked like a little kid with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Just, save that one till the end? Please. Trust me.” She explained, and while Selina was upset to not find out what her lover brought home last night, she relented. They spent a considerable time opening the gifts from one another. Their gifts were usually practical, but there were a couple that were pure wants rather than needs. A new wig, a refill on Selina’s favorite perfume, and a beautiful leather skirt graced Selina’s hands but she was itching to go look at the present behind the tree. Seeing her lover’s eyes drift over, she gave Selina a nod to go to the mystery present.

She got excited and ran over to grab the present. Placing it in front of her on the floor, Selina tore into it like a little kid. This was much bigger than their usual presents to each other, which got her curious. She tore off the wrapping paper and used a nearby knife to open the tape that closed the box before her. When she opened the flaps, however, she stopped. The smile fell off of her face, and her hands froze. Her lover sat on the couch, watching her from a distance with a tense stance. She was no sure how she would react, but this was making her nervous. Selina reached her shaky hands into the box and pulled out what was inside. A poinsettia plant with a very specific tag attached to it. The tag of the business she used to get it from as a child. She was at a loss for words as she looked towards her girlfriend on the couch with watery eyes. Without saying anything, her lover took over.

“I thought it might make you happy. It wasn’t difficult to find the business. And when I mentioned the Kyle girl was who I was getting it for, they were really excited to hand it off. Said they wanted me to bring you by at some point.” She explained gently. Selina wept as her hands traced the petals delicately, but she still said nothing. In a flash, the plant was set gently on the ground, and she had found a place in her girlfriend’s lap. She kept pressing kiss after kiss to her, cradling her face in her hands. Finally, coming up for air, Selina spoke for the first time since she opened the box.

“Thank you.” She whispered. Repeating her thanks, she kissed every inch of exposed skin in between her words. Her lover rested her hands on Selina’s waist and allowed her to do what she needed without impediment.

“You’re welcome.” Her girlfriend finally replied.

And there they sat. Selina perched in her girlfriend’s lap, pressing kisses and sweet words of endearment and thanks to her. And her girlfriend, happy to be able to bring just a little bit of happiness and light to their gloomy apartment in an equally gloomy city.

#rebelliousstories #writing #25 days of ficmas #25 days of christmas #ficmas 2023 #christmas imagine #the batman imagine #the batman #selina kyle x reader #selina kyle imagine #selina kyle #catwoman imagine #catwoman

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Cashmere and Cradles

Jean Kierstein x Pregnant!Reader

summary: y/n gets sick, and Jean worries sick. then, they’re both in for the sickest surprise of their lives.

word count: 3226

a/n: I was inspired to write this by the always lovely @quiveringdeer! this is also something close to home for me due to me incorporating my personal experiences, so plz be nice in the notes ya’ll (everyone always is but I like putting the disclaimer there for certain fics)

masterlist

I haven’t stopped being nauseous since I woke up. Is this really all because I had an anxiety attack from that one asshole? I already googled it, maybe it’s the fact that I drank a ton of water right when I woke up. I don’t know. I could barely touch the alfredo noodles we had last night, but I thought that was just me being anxious. Jean looked a little concerned at dinner, but I told him I was fine when he kissed me goodbye this morning. Just tired.

Really, I’m exhausted. I feel my stomach lurch, and I realize, I’m going to throw up. I run to the bathroom as fast as possible, nearly missing the toilet, and the last bits of undigested dinner from last night come up, along with bile and all the water from earlier. When I stop retching, I flush the toilet, and stand up dizzily. I brush my teeth to get rid of the remaining vomit, gargle a million times, and wipe my face, which has tears streaming down from the pain. Without fail, my body always feels like it’s been shoved into a trash compactor when I throw up.

When I’m finished cleaning myself up, I decide to go back to bed. The thought of trying to keep food down right now is an awful one. I text Jean to tell him I think I got a stomach bug, and he immediately texts me back asking why. I smile to myself, rolling my eyes a bit. He’s such a worry wart. Just puked, but I feel a lot better. Must’ve been why I was tired, I reply.

Do you need anything? He asks me, and I can imagine his furrowed eyebrows right in front of me.

You’re so sweet, baby. No, I just need sleep.

Have you eaten today?

No. If I eat right now I probably won’t keep it down. I never can after throwing up. I’ll eat when I wake back up. Love you xo

Ok, love you too babygirl xo

I smile to myself, then set my phone down on the nightstand. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

I’m woken by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. “Hello?” I answer groggily, and am spooked by Connie’s annoyingly loud voice.

“Y/n! Someone’s pregnant!” He yells into my ear. I hold my phone far away from me, pinching the bridge of my nose. Somehow, he’s already given me a headache. “Who?”

“I don’t know, but Sasha said her mom had a dream about fish! And you know what that means!” He says. I do not know what that means.

I yawn, asking, “Does it mean she misses her son-in-law’s cooking? Niccolo should visit her again soon.”

Connie pauses. “Hey, were you asleep before I called you?”

“Yes. Very peacefully, I might add. I have the flu.”

“W-why didn’t you tell me?!” He yells at me, and I wince.

“Connie, shut the fuck up! I have a migraine because of you! And because, I thought it would be obvious!” I say.

“Huh?” Connie asks in exasperation. “It’s three in the afternoon! How am I supposed to know you took a midday nap?”

“I never took a nap…” I trail off when I realize that means I’ve slept for basically 14 hours straight, excluding my short time being awake this morning. “Damn. I didn’t think I was this sick.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up, y/n.” Connie apologizes, panic gone from his voice.

I wave him off, not realizing he can’t see me for a few seconds. “No, no, it’s fine. I needed to get up anyways, I have commissions I need to work on, sick or not. Anyways, what’s your point? About the fish and somebody being pregnant.”

“Oh! Right!” He exclaims. “So, dreams have meaning. There’s symbolism in them that rings true.”

“Why are you using the word symbolism? That has no business being in your vocabulary, it’s out of your intelligence bracket.” I say, snickering to myself when he pauses to process what I’ve said.

“Hey! I know things, okay?!” Connie defends himself after realizing I called him stupid. “Anyways, when someone dreams about a fish, it means someone they know is pregnant. And there’s always someone who’s pregnant.

“Mhm.” I say. “Well, if you figure out who that pregnant person is, tell me so I can congratulate them on making a terrible financial decision for the next eighteen plus years. I’m tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.”

Connie says, “But didn’t you just talk about how much work you were gonna do?”

“Times change, Connie,” I respond, “That, and I just got even more tired than I was when I first answered the phone. I think you’re just exhausting me with your idiocy.”

Connie gasps, and I swear I can hear him clutching his imaginary pearls. “Hurtful!”

I sigh. “Goodbye, Connie.”

He groans, like I’ve just ruined his plans to gossip about pregnancy candidates. “Bye, y/n.” The phone hangs up with a beep, and I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I think to myself. There aren’t many options, in all honesty. Ymir and Historia could have decided they wanted to start a family, Eren and Mikasa, Annie and Bertholdt, even Sasha and Niccolo. I’m sick as a dog, so I’m already counted out — can’t have a baby when you’re busy having stomach flu. Before I know it, I’m lulled back to sleep by the comfort of the plush mattress and cushy blankets.

When I come to, it’s sunset, and the offending noise that wakes me is Jean’s keys jangling in the doorknob. I would get up to unlock the door for him, but I’m too groggy to move more than a finger. The door squeaks open, and I hear him put his keys down on the counter, stepping out of his shoes. “Y/n?” He calls, concern laced in his voice.

“Over here!” I respond in turn, yawning and stretching a bit. Jean’s footsteps make the apartment vibrate. He’s not heavy, but the infrastructure isn’t immune to jiggle physics. He turns the concern and I can see the wrinkles forming in real time, all because of me. Then, I can see flowers and a card. “Baby!” I exclaim in surprise, “Is that for me?”

He smiles, and he’s no longer aged by seven years. “I couldn’t come home to my girl empty-handed now, could I? How are you feeling?” He sets the flowers down on the bed, along with the card, and gathers me into a gentle hug, kissing me on the cheek.

“Babe,” I argue, “Don’t, you’ll get sick.”

“And get to take time off to spend with the most beautiful person in the world? Sounds great to me.” He grins when I roll my eyes, then asks, “Did you stay in bed all day?”

I nod. “Yea, I felt pretty shitty. No throwing up aside from the one time, though. Oh! And guess what? According to Sasha’s mom, somebody’s pregnant. The fish in her dreams told her so.”

He meets my eyes with a knowing look, his smile ever-present. “I am taking this so seriously right now, I swear. And who did we hear this fish dream news from?”

“Connie, who dared to wake me from my slumber.” I sigh, sitting up in the bed so I can be on eye-level with Jean.

Jean says, “I see, I see. Sounds like indisputable fact, if you ask me.”

“No, babe. We’re asking the dream fish.”

He laughs, and I laugh with him. “Okay, enough bullying people for being superstitious. You need some water, and soft foods. You probably haven’t eaten all day, have you?” I shake my head no. Jean says, “Well, I’m not Chef Niccolo, but I can make something pretty saucy. I’ll see what I can manage.”

“Do we have…” I start, but trail off, realizing it was a stupid question. Of course we wouldn’t have Kraft mac and cheese. “Nevermind.” I say with a smile at Jean as he looks at me inquisitively.

Fifteen minutes later, he brings me a bowl of noodles with shredded chicken in it. “Is this alright?” He asks me, and I can see he genuinely is worried I won’t like it.

I smile gratefully at him. “Of course, thank you baby. You don’t have to worry about me, the nausea seems to be the worst of it.” I feel a twinge in my stomach looking at the food, but I know it’s just me being finicky because I’m sick. I have to eat something if I want to get better.

He pats my back. “All right, I’m gonna hop in the shower. The door’s unlocked if you need anything, as per usual.” He kisses my forehead, then leaves me to handle business.

When he’s out of sight, I stare at my food like it’s insulting me. My stomach feels like it’s doing flips, and I would rather go back to sleep, but I know if I don’t eat anything, Jean will freak. His mom used to get sick all the time — bad immune system — so now, after everything I’ve been through, he watches over me like a mother hen.

And what is it that I’ve been through? Well… a miscarriage. And an eating disorder. It was for the better that the miscarriage happened, because neither of us were ready for a kid, but it was grueling. I only found out I was pregnant because of the miscarriage, and it left me even more physically and emotionally drained than I already had been for the month before. It explained the nausea, and the inability to eat most foods, but after the miscarriage, I continued being unable to eat. I lost a lot of weight, and when I finally went to the doctor’s office, they recommended I start eating protein bars to regain what I’d lost. I did, and I haven’t lost the weight again since then, but Jean fusses over me, because he knows my eating disorder is a daily battle, not one that just goes away. I tell him not to worry, that as long as I’m keeping my current weight then we have nothing to worry about, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. Or, for accuracy’s sake, it’s like talking to a magical brick wall that finds the most anxiety-inducing message in all of your words and echoes that back to you.

The miscarriage and the events after it happened years ago, but I remember it like yesterday, and so does Jean. Every now and then, we whisper to each other at night, talking about what might have happened if I hadn’t miscarried.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this right now. Maybe it’s because the nausea I’m feeling now reminds me of back then. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, then mentally prepare myself to take a bite of food. I stab the fork into my noodles and twist, twist, twist, until I have a reasonable lump of noodles around my fork, ready to be eaten. I lift it up into my mouth, and when I smell the noodles… it’s over.

I throw my fork down, quickly setting my bowl down on the nightstand and run to the bathroom faster than the speed of light. I nearly slam the door open, and start puking as soon as the toilet seat and lid are propped up. I hear Jean pull back the shower curtain as I heave, splatters of liquid and mush landing in the toilet. The room is already steamed up – he loves hot showers. We both do, to be fair. “Babe? Are you okay?” He asks me, and it takes literally everything in me to not snap at him and say that I’m obviously not okay.

I give him a thumbs up. “I don’t know why, but just smelling the food made me nauseous. What was the expiration date on the canned chicken?”

As water trickles down his bare chest, sculpted abs dividing my attention, Jean says, “I just bought that on Saturday. No way it’s expired. If you can’t eat, why don’t you try taking a shower? You’ve been in sick clothes all day.” I put the lid down and flush the toilet, slowly nodding as I stand up. I strip down, joining him in the spray as he holds his hand out for me to take. Always the gentleman. I’m sandwiched between him and the warm water, and I sigh, feeling some relief for once. He slides his hands around my waist, kissing my cheek and leaning his head against mine, sighing with me. “I’m sorry you’re so sick, baby.”

I turn around to face him, the water hitting my backside as I wrap my arms around his neck, looking up at him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” I get up on my tip-toes to kiss him, and where nausea once was in my stomach, a fire suddenly rages – a fire of want, of desperate need. I close my eyes, deepening the kiss and pressing my body against his. “Baby.” I pant out, reaching down for his member as I feel the slick growing between my thighs.

He grunts, stopping the kiss and holding my arms, stepping away. “Not right now, y/n. You’re sick. It would just make you worse. Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, yea?” I hadn’t actually touched him yet, but I can already see that he’s clearly aroused.

I frown to myself. I’m disappointed, but he’s right. “Yea, right. Sorry.” I don’t know what came over me in that moment, but right now, I feel riled up for no apparent reason. What is happening to me?

We finish our shower, and he grabs out the silkiest pair of pajamas for me, helping me dry off and put them on before helping me into bed, and I note he removed the offending food from the area. I don’t know how I managed to meet someone as kind as him. “Hey,” He asks me, “Weren’t you supposed to start your period a few days ago?”

I think to myself, then nod in confirmation. “I think I was. No big deal, though. I’d probably be miserable if I had to deal with that and this at the same time.” He looks deep in thought. “What is it?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “I’m just worried about you, is all. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll run to the store to get some hot cocoa for you to try?” Hot cocoa sounds delicious right now, I’ll give him that. It’s not usually something I crave, but maybe some sugar is just the thing I need after all of this bullshit.

I smile, then lay back in bed. “Okay, baby. See you then.”

When I wake up, it’s to Jean sitting at my feet, holding some kind of stick in his hand, eyes wide in shock, jaw completely slack. I look to my right and spot two mugs of cocoa sitting on my nightstand, one half-drunk. “Baby? What is it?” I ask him, unable to push myself up.

“I… I… I didn’t think… I only had an inkling of a hunch as to what it might be, but…” He stammers, more to himself than to me.

I sigh forcefully. “Jean. Baby. What is it?”

“Baby.” He says.

“Yes, I’m listening, Jean,” I reply, a bit annoyed that he isn’t listening. It’s not like him. “What is it?” I ask again, with more emphasis.

“A baby.” He says, and when he lifts up his hand to show me, I realize he’s holding not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests. And they all are positive. “You forgot to flush the toilet when you peed after getting out of the shower.”

Now, my face matches his. “What???” I say, suddenly jolting up into a sitting position, but not without a wave of nausea rolling over me. “I… what are we gonna do?” I say, panic setting in.

Jean answers, “We’re gonna do what you want to do, of course.” He leans over, setting the tests down on my nightstand and grabbing my hand, squeezing it. “If you don’t feel ready…”

“I–” I cut myself off when I feel my lip wobble. Tears suddenly well up in my eyes, and I fight the urge to let them loose. “Jean, I can’t.” I see the disappointment in his eyes, and I start to cry. “I can’t lose another one, Jean, I can’t. Please.”

He pauses, taken aback, but quickly hugs me to comfort me. “Oh, y/n, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m an idiot, I thought you were saying ‘I can’t’ as in, you couldn’t keep it, I’m an idiot, ignore my initial reaction.”

I sniffle and wipe my eyes. “Wait…” I ask, “You mean you would rather me keep it?”

Jean laughs, and I almost puke from the vibrations alone, but I don’t care right now. “Yes, yes, I absolutely would rather you keep it, but I’ll support you either way.”

I start crying even more. “Oh, thank God, thank God, I thought…”

Jean pulls back slightly, but only to place kiss upon kiss all over my face. He pauses, looking me in the eye. “Put that thought away. It doesn’t have any place here.” He then places his arm behind my back, laying me back down on the bed. He starts unbuttoning my pajama top, just a few buttons from the waist up. He kisses my stomach, right below my belly button. “Hey, baby.” He whispers against my abdomen, and I lightly push him away with my arms.

“Baby. As cute as that is, please don’t. The vibrations make me nauseous.” I smile tiredly, but beckon him to lay next to me. He happily joins me, throwing an arm over my stomach and sliding under the covers.

Quietly, he says, “How does the cocoa smell?”

“Good.” I whisper.

He chuckles. “My mom said she liked that when she was pregnant with me.”

Sassily, I say, “Oh, so the baby has your taste, does he?”

And he says, “Possibly. Is it selfish of me to want them to be a girl? I’d love to have two of you around here. Plus, then Connie won’t try to make me name them after him in honor of him being the first one to share the news of your pregnancy.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, the fish gods.”

“I thought they were dream fish?”

“Same shit.” I scoff. “Can we just… never tell him?”

Jean hums. “Mmm… unfortunately, that might be a little suspect. We have to tell my mom first, anyways. Gramas always have seniority. Want me to wait a bit?”

I respond, “Maybe for a week, that way you can say I got you sick and you can’t go into work.”

Jean groans. “Babe, how are you so hot, so smart, and so pregnant with my kid, all at once? I feel so lucky right now.” He kisses my collar bone, laying back beside me like I’ve knocked him out with my grand idea.

I laugh, hand resting on my stomach. “You’re an idiot, Jean.”

“Just a fool in love,” He says, “Thinking about cashmere blankets and cedarwood cradles.”

#outsider writes #fanfiction #fanfic #attack on titan #AOT #Jean Kierstein #jean kierstein x reader #pregnant!reader #TW!pregnancy #TW!miscarriage #TW!EDmention #fluff #TW!puking #slight angst #near-smutty moment

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 12

CW: PTSD, drug abuse, recapture, regretful Whumper, mention of past torture, Lima syndrome

PART 11 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 13

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Now comes the best part!" Brooke whispered, quickly sliding the pot from the stove top onto a coaster. The golden liquid inside was bubbling up to the rim, but without a chance to spill over, it was already poured down onto a blanket of crushed ice.

She had to be steady now, line for line of sticky syrup was traced back and forth, patiently waiting for her guest to join in.

Elliot did, eventually, by placing popsicle sticks down and coiling the already hardening candy around them. Although he always kept his left hand in his pocket, far away from any curious eyes, he managed to roll them along the lines of syrup quite well, until a stack of sweet rewards was formed.

"And you never did this when you were younger?" Brooke mumbled while her teeth were desperately trying to unstick from each other.

Elliot nibbled at the corner of his taffy, clumps of ice were still stuck to it: "I don't think so, our snow was too dirty. My uncles took me to winter festivals, though."

He wouldn't have come, if his guilty conscience hadn't forced him this time. He declined invitations and outings over and over since he moved back home, so many had stopped prodding after a while. Except her, she was stuck in his messages like a tick, coming up with all sorts of reasons to meet up again.

When asked if it wasn't a bit early for winter traditions, without any snow to be seen in August, Brooke was determined that it was never too soon for maple taffy. She didn't wait for the seasons.

She didn't question his absence either, and they never talked about the job - how it used to be. As the days grew shorter, so did his hope to join her once more.

All in all, Brooke hid her interest very well, even after he had to take his daily meds in front of her: little chalky pills he swallowed down with the help of tart and sticky candy.

"So, I thought," she started after they cleaned up all the dishes, "we could watch a movie, to get the Christmas spirit going."

"No space for Halloween in your holiday plans?" Elliot asked with a tired smile, though he wouldn't mind leaving horror movies on pause this year. Or however long it would take until he felt like himself.

Brooke shook her head: "Not really my thing, but we could call it even and watch Nightmare Before Christmas."

A part of him wanted this more than anything, this comfy sliver of normality, but a glance out of the window was enough to tell that Elliot had overstayed his welcome.

"It's getting dark already," the quiet apology towards his host was rewarded with a scrunched brow, "My, uh, mom wants me to help with dinner."

She didn't mind the shitty lie, that's what she got for gossiping around with strangers in the restroom. Brooke was sure Elliot had been told about the quick chat in every detail.

"No problem, what about next week?"

He agreed eventually, planning to cancel if he felt like it. Or maybe they could do it at his place, his parents would love this sign, him linking-up with friends again.

Elliot was a bit embarrassed by it, more so scared, but Brooke even walked him to the train stop. Standing engulfed by a crowd should've made him feel secure, at least he desperately waited for it.

I'm safe, I'm safe, nothing is going to happen. Nevertheless, Elliot recognized him sometimes: in advertisements, in the bus, as sneaking shadows at the corner of his eyes.

It was nice being out again, exhausting, but nice. He waved Brooke goodbye.

Everything is okay. It hadn't been a bad day, so why did he feel so uneasy? It's been fine so far, no need to start whining. Especially back home, I'll just upset mom too.

Another pill should soothe his racing mind, but that's it, he didn't want to act plastered in public. It was all agreed upon, he could increase the dosage as-needed: doctor's orders.

It. Is. Fine.

He could taste the rumbling heartbeat in his throat, and his left arm woke slowly from its medically-induced slumber. Too much, just too much at once.

Home- a bad idea. If whining upset her already, a full on panic attack wouldn't help either.

He tried to tune the people around him out; were they staring? Of course, they were. Sour spit collected at the back of his mouth, begging to be let out, but no matter how much he tried to keep focus, he stumbled out of the train one station too early. 

Elliot needed air, a second to breathe.

Automatically, he started fidgeting with the cap of the pill bottle. How many did he take by now? Whatever, one more wouldn't make him hurt any worse than he was now. Elliot finally got a grip on it and forced the tablet down dry.

There he was again: climbing out of the station to stroll along a lonely sidewalk in the dark. Exactly what he was trying to dodge.

Great plan, fucking brilliant.

A forced calm finally started to spread. Fatigue hit him with a gentle fist, but it was welcome, the better of the two moods.

A new message popped up on the phone display, making Elliot jump weakly:

Are you home? 

So to speak. He sent a thumbs up for Brooke because "- she seems so well organized."

Illusions made his head spin with every step.

Don't think about that, look for a place to rest.

Elliot was sure he fell at some point, but was right back on his feet, stumbling over to a bench. An inviting offer in the abandoned street.

What did dad tell me? Five things you can see- five things you can...hear...five thin...gs...

Tired breaths began to calm his system slowly, and the tight warmth in his chest kept his pain down.

He closed his eyes to rest for a bit, just a moment of-

--------

Elliot woke up slowly. Keeping his eyes softly closed, he tried to assess how bad it hit him this time.

After a night out in the cold, he counted himself lucky if his feet were still attached to the rest of him. It would take hours to shake the frost out of his bones, to creep back home for breakfast, but that's what one gets for overreaching.

He waited for the biting cold on his face, for the wind licking at the shell of his ears. But every painful itch turned out to only be a passing tickle, not even the traffic noise had woken him up.

His body felt warm and relaxed, covered by a soft blanket. He still couldn't manage to peel his eyelids open, too confusing was the silent murmur that this was off. That something was wrong.

First, both his jacket and shoes were missing. A sigh of relief echoed through the room.

Elliot had made it home, thank goodness! No future adventures in the evening for him, he knew being with Brooke had been a bad idea; not because of her, of course not, but he just wasn't... made for this anymore. As new waves of anxiety tried to stir up, a heavy weight pressed down on his chest: weird, he would never let Ginkgo run around at night.

Oh, quick, I need to feed her and clean up the cage.

While at it, his mother was in dire need of a hug until she would forgive him for still keeping up with his bullshit. Making her worry to death about her son, Elliot knew better than that.

Finally rubbing the grainy dust from his eyes, the first thing Elliot noticed was a blurred shape at the foot of his bed. The more his vision cleared up, the louder his heart pounded against the blanket and the hand above his own. No face was needed to recognize the person sitting next to him, he knew exactly who decided to haunt him today.

Oh, this again. Elliot quickly shut his eyes back to familiar darkness, cursing his stupid brain for dreaming up these memories. Sleep paralysis, very original, thank you.

They would fade, like they always did. He was home, he was safe...

...

..

.

Something was wrong.

Maybe the sun shining through the window that made his eyes water in face of brightness, an impossible task in his own windowless bedroom; maybe the fact that he'd rather die in a ditch than sleep without his wrist brace.

He had to know, and opened his eyes one final time - this was not his room, not his home. A trick of the tired mind, it simply had to be, Elliot prayed while looking the man of his nightmares straight in the face.

"Hi," Morris whispered, hand on top of broken hand.

No.

Not this.

Not again.

That wretched man slowly leaned forward to let his elbow rest on his knee, an expectant smile on his lips.

Staying horribly numb, Elliot's left arm automatically jerked back to his waist. He felt himself being dragged to that house and if he finally dared to be honest with himself, a part of him had never left.

--------

His guest gave Morris nothing, maybe he just didn't hear him right. Even though he specifically refrained from sitting on the bed and gave him some space to breathe, all the effort didn't seem to be enough. Elliot snapped up to sit ramrod straight under the covers, his breathing hastened to let his restless stare stop on Morris. 

Here they were at last, and this time nothing would go wrong.

"Uhm, do you want me to start or-" Morris said, a bit flustered and picking eagerly at the sheets. The answer came instantly: "I don't know where she is!"

"Who?"

"Wha-"

"Are you still high? It's been hours, that can't be right."

Much to Elliot's relief, Morris let go of him to turn around with a worried frown and fumbled for something at the foot of the armchair he was sitting in. Through blank fear, getting up and walking out was not even considered yet; but one thing came to Elliot's mind despite it all. The thing the world spun around.

"Amber. I don't know-"

"Ohh," Morris cut him off with a small laugh, forehead wrinkled in reassurance, "No, no, this is not about her. I think she had her claws on me for long enough."

Elliot fucked up bad this time. All the simmering fear, anger and helplessness pushed down on him with crushing force. Brooke - the crowd - Morris, it went over in the blink of an eye, his emotions couldn't catch up to the shock and the pills; and he was thankful for it. For letting himself hide inside a little longer.

Still, the icy-blue stare demanded his attention. He had called himself paranoid, laying awake at night to let his fears flirt with this exact scenario again and again, now he knew it had been warranted. Elliot felt it the first time he dragged himself home, just as intense as when he lied to his doctors all those times. Cluelessness spread and made Elliot trip over his own heartbeat.

"I-I didn't tell anyone either." he swallowed thickly, "I know what you said, I didn't forget."

Morris gaze softened, somehow relieved that he wasn't the only skittish one of them.

"You thought about me a lot, huh?"

He meant it to be playful, but seeing how much this comment made Elliot flinch back, he needed to choose his next words more wisely. Nothing but smooth sailing from here on.

He wants to know if I'm still in line. If I fear him more than I look for justice. Elliot would grant him that, gladly so: "Every day."

Much to his confusion, he just needed two words to make Morris empty eyes glow with joy.

This was good, great even, right? Keeping him satisfied, not provoke the anger that cost them so much already. Old survival methods slowly clawed their way back to the surface.

"Really?!“ Morris tone was laced with pure satisfaction, and if asking his guest, it was won out of superiority. Another fallacy that wouldn't be corrected anytime soon.

Instead, he just managed a weak nod above his sweaty hands. Elliot didn't trust his own voice, but still had to push forward.

"I don't really know why I'm here. If it's not about her...can I go then, please? My...my dad will be home in a few days, I miss him so much," his shaky tone somehow pushed out, helpless to stop the tears that started collecting and threatened to flow over. He should've watched that damn movie with Brooke; too late, all in vain.

Somehow, Morris didn't like this at all. Screaming and crying: no fun. How did Elliot already forget that?

"Why are you upset? Don't- no, that's not how it's supposed to go!"

Staying calm to ignore this dreaded feeling took everything out of Morris; if anything, he was the one allowed to be upset! He had been lied to, that old whore kept him away from her son, let him stew in pain for nearly a year. He was deprived of everything he deserved...

But wait, this was perfect: a gradual start. They both had been given time to process, hopefully enough of it to reward Morris for his good behavior. The lean years are over.

"One second," he finally huffed out, a tense hand running through his hair, "this is all wrong, I have a whole plan made up. Wait, wait!"

Knowing how this man's plans usually worked out, Elliot could do nothing but brace himself. Even trying to shrink further under the covers was only commented by a crooked smile: "I practiced, don't laugh!"

Elliot would never dare to, he hadn't in weeks. A quick clearing of his throat gave the go-ahead.  

"I'm really sorry for what happened. I lost control: of you, of the...situation. I'm sorry you were hurt, and I will make it up to you. But first, I just have to know:" stabilizing himself on his twitching knees, Morris finally let the dreaded question out, "Can you forgive me?"

Nothing but static whirred throughout his mind.

"Yeah," Elliot stuttered, "S-sure. It's alright."

In an instant, a pressure inside the room was lifted. Exhaling with a deep sigh, Morris steadied his forehead on his folded hands: "That's great, thank you. You're just great." We can go forward then.

A guilty conscience does weigh heavy, it seemed. That was it? This was no tasteless joke, all he wanted was absolution, granting at least one of them their piece of mind.

Suddenly, Elliot felt unreasonably bold.

"I need to leave."

"No, not yet," came the firm answer.

There it was, the catch. Who needed to call back this time?

Morris read the hollow why off him in a second and replied with a look Elliot couldn't place. Pity, maybe, with an unhealthy glow of hunger.

"Elliot, I know a junkie when I see one."

Don't let it be fentanyl, Morris prayed, otherwise he would tie him to the bed frame and never let him set foot on a street again. But he wanted to keep this topic on the back burner for now, to let new trust sprout.

Junkie - the nerve to even imply that had Elliot heat up in anger. Especially when it came from him.

"In my jacket," all Morris found was a bottle of Tramadol 100, half empty, "That's my medication, my-my painkillers. I need to take them every day, I got a prescription!"

Perhaps Morris' stock was running low. Elliot would help him make ends meet freely, however much he liked. Well, he had to be let go for that first.

"Sure you do. That's how it usually starts."

Elliot hesitated a second too long, thinking of another way out.

Meanwhile, his newest host had talked himself into a passionate monologue: "Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much shit they are stuffing down people's throats, but you're good, aren't you?"

"Yes, it's okay. I-"

"That's why I found you in Yaletown, passed out cold and begging to get robbed, mhh? Because you have everything under control."

This left them speechless. Elliot noticed the urge to cry freely this time, he was out of wits and excuses that wouldn't get cut down in a heartbeat.

On the contrary, Morris seemed triumphant about Elliot's little slip-up. Happy even, if one dared to look closer.

Somewhere at the foot of the bed, a phone started ringing. For the first time during this short waking-nightmare, Morris gave a nervous glance towards the door, biting his lip and clenching his fingers into a fist.

"Doesn't really matter," he decided quickly, "we have enough time to catch up later."

Later? That would imply stretching out this farce.

Finally, Elliot was awake.

"Morris, please listen-"

"Call me Chris."

Elliot was dead, he finally managed to fuck up the rest of his life and go straight to hell.

Make him like me. No, no, stop it. As if that ever helped.

Gathering his racing thoughts, Elliot hoped there was still a chance to steer things in his favor.

"Thank you for..." Abducting me? Helping me? Those words would never leave his mouth, "...letting me crash here. But we both know that I can't stay; with you." Wherever here was this time.

"You're nervous. That's alright, that's understandable. We can work through that!"

The steady anxiety collecting under his heart finally came to the forefront. Five - five things - things I can - His little tricks didn't seem to gain traction, he couldn't even hear himself think through the phone's incessant hum.

"D-don't you want to get that?"

Morris stretched out to snatch and softly cradle Elliot's left hand again. After the medicine's sweet numbness that held him together would fade, every touch will retaliate itself.

Dead focused on him again, caught between seconds that spanned hours, the man calling himself Chris now kept him close. Elliot was never spared, they had never parted ways.

"No, I don't think I will."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

#stack the deck #christoph morris oc #i hope i feed you well with this one #this is a romcom #Morris is still tame here #elliot ribera oc #whump series #recapture #captivity #kidnapping #whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #obsessive whumper #yandere whumper #lima syndrome #disabled whumpee #carewhumper #PTSD #drug abuse #unhealthy coping mechanisms #obsessive behaviour #past torture #emotional whump #anxiety #regretful whumper

[yourlocalmikankinnie]

Ohshit request are open for a limited time I’m doin my favorite HC I aint missing this shit

may I request headcannons for Maki, Mikan, Mahiru, and Kaede

as older sisters (platonic of course stfu pedos) catching her little brother in the middle of a fight with a kid from his middle school he hates? And lil bro aint losing by any means He’s actually like, REALLY fucking the other kid up; swollen eye, missing teeth, bloody mouth and nose, you name it. They’re in the middle of a field and there’s multiple kids also from the school recording the fight. The lil bro is undamaged for the most part, with a couple of minor cuts, scrapes, and bruises. When he notices his big sis is present he literally goes “Aw shit….”. How do you think they’d intervene IF YOU THINK THEY WOULD?

Anyway hope your break is going well and I had a quick question if you don’t mind me asking; what happened to your poetry blog? If it’s personal or something like you don’t gotta answer. Okay have a great day

Hi! I can absolutely do this! And it's going alright! I had deleted my poetry blog tbh, I haven't really posted anything on it so I felt like it was a bit of a storage box just sitting there 💀 but maybe I'll make it again, it depends 😘

Thank you so much for requesting! ❤️

Characters: Maki, Kaedes, Mikan, Mahiru

(platonic, siblings)

Male reader but can be interpreted as gn or female if you so wish❤️

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Maki:

She shows up once she heard from Kaito and everything silences. If you saw the look on her face you'd be running (and people did-). She wasn't having it and told you to stop.

She then took you too see Mikan (she didn't trust the nurse at your school), she didn't give a shit about the other kid. Maki sat you down and told you,

"hey kid. Listen, as much as I'm proud of you for not losing the fight, you can't go around beating people up. Don't want you getting hurt. Okay? Be more careful"

After Mikan aided you she took you home (Mikan insisted it, she didn't want you getting more hurt than you are). Once you guys got home, y'all watched some TV till she had to go to work (assassin 🤭) and kaedes and kaito came over to hang out with you (Maki totally didn't tell them to check up on you while she was gone-🤫) she came home to you in bed asleep and kaito eating your chips 💀 he sure as hell learned a lesson from that

Mikan:

She ran as soon as she could to your school when she heard from one of your friends that you were in a fight.

She's disappointed but knows she can help you get better with her ultimate, so she takes you to her school because she's scared to leave you home alone while she's gone.

Once she patches you up, she asks her teacher is you can stay with her and ms.yukizome let's her. Once gotten home she lightly scolds you and tells you to eat and get some sleep.

"p-please get some sleep, I'm sorry for not coming sooner! I-ill try talking with your teacher about your classmate. Please don't try doing that again unless absolutely needed!"

She's a sweet sister, she just worries about you! ❤️🥺

Kaede:

She had got a call from the office after the fight and came to your school, she didn't really care if she missed class. shuichi would help her catch up with school work.

She scolded you once you guys got home. Your mom (if you have one, you can replace with your guardian) was home and She told her what happened. Let's just say you were in trouble 🥶

"little man 😡 you can't just go around fighting people. Don't do it again okay? Okay! Now go take a shower you stink"

Mahiru:

She got a phone call from the nurse in your school as your father wasn't answering the phone (she has daddy issues so you do too) and was angry. She walked all the way to your school to pick you up and then scolded you on your way home.

Once home she told you to clean up GENTLY while she cleaned and made dinner. She contemplated on getting one of her classmates to ensure your okay but decided against it since she didn't wanna bother them. Honestly you got off lucky in terms of the fight. Shed probably have to have a talk with the kids parents.

"listen. Your supposed to be the bigger person. I don't want to get anymore phone calls that you've been in fights. Got it?"

I hope you liked this!! ❤️ It was fun writing and I'm sorry for the delay on it

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa v3 #kaede akamatsu x reader #kaede x reader #kaede akamatsu #kaede #maki harukawa x reader #maki x reader #maki harakawa #maki #mahiru koizumi x reader #mahiru koizumi #mahiru x reader #mahiru #mikan tsumiki x reader #mikan x reader #mikan tsumiki #mikan