#//so i took the the time to get some new clothes and items and spent a lot of time making my avatar cuter :>
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mechahero · 2 years ago
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//yeah this is gaming
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pretentious-blonde · 5 months ago
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never second best
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick
warnings: 18+ this is smut, graphic depictions of sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), tears, insecurity
a/n: part 5 but can be read as a standalone. half of this is super long, pure filth, AND my first time writing smut so pls feedback is welcome. thank you @andvys so so much, hopefully, i didn't let you down <3
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Steve perched on the edge of his neatly-made bed, hair painstakingly combed into that signature swoop, the red knit jumper hugging his broad shoulders just so. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms—a look he recently realised drives you a little wild, and one he now makes an effort to wear often. 
He liked to catch you staring. 
He’s wearing his go-to faded jeans, and every time he glances your way, his eyes take on a softer appearance. You’ve already spent some time in his room before, but every time he sees you there, he still can’t believe you’re in his space.
He’s trying—really trying—not to grin too widely. If he breaks into the excited smile he’s been fighting all morning, he worries he might come off too eager. But truth be told, he is too eager. Hosting Dustin’s birthday party is one thing, but now he has the honour of introducing you to everyone. Officially. 
He’s practically bursting at the chance to show you off, the very thought turned his mind all giddy. Knowing that you would be the one with his arm around your waist for everyone to witness. 
The idea distracted him from the real drama occurring not four feet away from him. 
From your spot by the mirror, you can see him watching you, and it sets your stomach off again. You’re not sure why today feels so monumental. You’ve met Dustin in passing, shared a few laughs with Robin over coffee after she basically saved your relationship a few weeks back.
But tonight is the full show. Everyone. All at once. And for some reason, your carefully chosen outfit no longer feels quite right. You tug the hem of your top self-consciously, tilt your head, and scrunch your nose at your reflection.
“I look awful,” you say, voice laced with the sort of frustration that’s all nerves. “This looked so much better in my head.”
His brow furrows, and he pushes off the bed in a single fluid motion. “That’s nonsense,” he replies, crossing the room to you in three quick strides. He rests his hands lightly on your shoulders, gaze flicking to meet yours in the mirror. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. Always do. You know that."
You huff out a breath, trying not to get lost in the warmth of his praise—easier said than done.
“No, I don’t,” you insist, staring critically at your clothes. “I should’ve brought something else.”
“Well
do you have anything else here?” He asks gently.
There were little traces of you scattered around—a few forgotten items here and there, most notably, the new toothbrush sitting beside his. Still, nine times out of ten, you took your clothes home, leaving behind only your pajamas.
“A set of pajamas.” You sigh dramatically, cursing yourself for not packing more than one option. “That’s about it.”
“Hey, that could work,” he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s one of my favourite looks on you.” His hands slide down your arms, his grin growing as he watches your reaction.
Under normal circumstances you would lean into his teasing, but this was not the time. You turn to give him a shove, but he catches your wrist before it can make an impact.
“Steve,” you whine, trying to see the humour in this the way he is.
“What? I’m just being honest,” he says, eyes dancing. “Would you rather I lie?” 
Truth is, he does love you in those pajamas—almost as much as he loves you wearing his old shirts. Honestly, you could throw on a trash bag, and he’d still think you’re stunning.
“Please stop,” you groan.
You’re not smiling the way you usually do at his jokes—no little giggle, no playful roll of the eyes. 
The shift clicks for him: you’re actually stressed. 
Concern crosses his features, and the jovial edge in his voice softens. He lowers his tone, warmth flowing through each word, and slides his hands down to cradle your waist.
“Alright,” he murmurs, thumbs drawing gentle circles against your hips. “Talk to me. What’s not working here?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, exhaling as you sink into him. “I just feel
 unprepared. I mean, I’m meeting everyone. Should I have brought something? I should’ve baked. Everyone likes baked goods.”
A breathy chuckle escapes him, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 
Like you’re not already sweet enough.
“Angel, Robin is bringing the cake. And you”—he squeezes your waist a little firmer—“are a guest here. Your only job is to relax and look pretty. Can you do that for me? Please?”
The earnestness in his voice steals the protest right out of your throat. You look up at him, heart thumping in that heady way it does whenever he turns on the charm full-blast. 
Damn those big, stupid brown eyes. 
You turn back to the mirror, pulling at your shirt once again. There’s a crease here, a wrinkle there—things no one else would ever notice, but to you, it’s just off. You can feel his eyes on you, his concern and affection practically radiating from behind. 
He’s been so excited, so patient, and yet you can’t shake the last bit of anxiety churning in your stomach about today.
In the reflection, you watch him hover, trying to be casual even though you can see every thought flit across his expressive face. He wants you to be happy and comfortable. He wants to show you off and make sure you feel like a million bucks doing it.
“Can I wear something of yours?” you ask softly, turning to meet those wide, hopeful eyes. “I want something more comfortable.”
Comfortable.
His heart practically leaps at your request. He’s not sure why that single sentence sends a jolt of excitement through him, but it does—and it’s powerful. He tries to school his expression into something normal, but the eager beam that spreads across his face betrays him.
“Absolutely,” he says far too quickly, glad to be of use. “Knock yourself out. Have at it—any one you want.”
He opens the wardrobe, stepping aside like he’s unveiling some prized collection. You slip past him, still self-conscious, but the warm brush of his hand on your lower back comforts you. 
Leafing through the soft fabrics, you finally find one that matches the rest of your outfit—a cosy, oversized number that’s equally stylish and undeniably Steve’s. You hold it up, glancing back at him for approval.
He grins—big, unabashed. “Fantastic choice,” he declares, in an exaggeratedly formal tone meant to make you laugh.
It works—you giggle. The sound washes over him like a balm, chasing away the worry in his eyes. 
He lives for that sound.
Then, your focus shifts back to the mirror. You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion, baring your bra and the long, graceful stretch of your spine. 
The air feels cooler against your newly exposed skin, and you instantly sense the spark of awareness coming from the boy behind you.
He goes still. A part of him wants to look away, to be respectful, yet he can’t stop his eyes from drifting along the curve of your waist and the softness just above your navel.
He’s had the privilege of touching your bare skin before—tentative, lingering caresses that never ventured too far. He’s wanted more, of course he has. He’s human—he’s got a pulse. 
But you deserve slow. You deserve a careful pace, no pressure. He’d beat himself up about it for weeks if he even thought he made you uncomfortable.
But that didn’t stop his mind from running. 
He wanted to trail his fingertips down every inch of your body, to feel you melt under his touch. Imagining the way you’d arch into his palms, voice breathless as it tickled his ear, egging him on. Images of pressing you up against the mirror, sliding his hands across your hips, your ribs, your chest, discovering every inch he’s been dying to explore. 
He tears his eyes away, cheeks heating at his own explicit thoughts. 
You slide his jumper over your head, letting the fabric fall into place. Instantly, you’re enveloped in the faint smell of him: cologne, fabric softener, a hint of hairspray. 
You turn, a playful, knowing smirk on your face, you catch the flush on his cheeks—his pupils slightly dilated, his posture taut with the effort of keeping his hands to himself.
“More comfortable?” he asks, managing a wobbly smile.
“Yeah,” you smooth the jumper over your sides, nodding. “Much better.”
A smile spreads slowly across his face, relief flooding his features. He steps closer, gently adjusting the jumper on your shoulders, as if making sure you’re perfectly bundled in his warmth. His knuckles skim your collarbone, the gesture sends a pleasant shiver through you.
“Good,” he murmurs. In the silence that follows, you can almost hear the unspoken thoughts swirling behind his eyes. He drops his hands, brushes a quick kiss to your temple, and lets out a breath. “Come on, let’s get downstairs before the others barge in. The peace isn’t gonna last once the party kicks off.”
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The house was buzzing with the kind of kinetic energy that made the walls hum. You can feel it reverberating through the soles of your feet the moment you step back into the living room. The cosy space was adorned with colourful streamers and a Happy Birthday! banner—Dustin’s own insistence, of course.
Steve had nearly suffered a heart attack watching you put it up single-handedly earlier, bursting into the room just in time to steady the wobbling chair beneath you.
I mean, Jesus, were you trying to take years off his life?
You had been blissfully unaware of the impending disaster, balancing precariously as if gravity was a suggestion. 
He had been right there. You could have asked for help. But no—apparently, terrifying him was just part of the fun.
None of that mattered now the party was in full swing, chatter overlapping, laughter weaving in and out of a sweetly melancholic track Max had just dropped onto the record player.
He had introduced you with obvious pride, making sure to state—loud and clear—that you were his girlfriend. Watching you greet everyone with a tender smile. His attention lingered on each reaction, quietly noting how they took in the girl he was lucky enough to call his.
It felt like unveiling a winning hand in a game he never expected to play so well—like holding onto something rare and knowing, deep down, that he’d beaten the odds.
You quickly spot your host—your boyfriend—hovering near the stereo console, running a hand through his hair, trying to appear unruffled while Max and Lucas sift through his precious vinyls. And in typical Steve fashion, failing at appearing calm, because he can’t quite hide his grin when he sees you looking. 
From across the room, he gives you a gentle wave, checking that you’re still alright. His eyes stay on you as you maneuver around the coffee table and dodge a crumb-strewn plate that might have once held cake but now looks suspiciously empty.
“Hey,” he greets, sliding an arm around your waist the second you’re within reach. His hand settles warm and comforting at your side, fingertips lightly pressing into the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. 
“Hey yourself,” you reply, leaning into the contact without a second thought.
He seems to shine in a way you haven’t seen before. Surrounded by the people he calls family, he’s the best version of himself, brimming with confidence and a natural leadership that emerges when he’s trying to make sure everyone else is okay. 
You see it in the way he’s just handed Max the next record she was eyeing (despite complaining it’s not appropriate music for a birthday party), the way he’s offered Dustin a refill on his drink twice in the last ten minutes, and the way his entire face softens whenever he looks at you.
You hear Will’s loud gasp behind you—apparently, Jonathan just teased him about some underground album you had never heard of. The brown-haired boy claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder, spinning him into an ongoing argument about what to play next. 
Meanwhile, Robin’s perched on the arm of the couch, describing some comedic fiasco at work with her trademark flair for dramatics. You catch only snippets—something about a misfiled horror movie in the kids’ section, a frantic parent demanding a refund, and Steve heroically stepping in to salvage the day.
He rolls his eyes at that particular story, mouth curving in a half-smile. “She’s gonna exaggerate it,” he mutters to you, “just watch.”
You grin, nudging him gently. “Hey, maybe it’ll make you look good.”
“What, me saving the day?” He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I already look great,” he says in a faux-arrogant tone, then immediately flushes when he realises how that might’ve sounded. But you know him well enough to catch the joking glint in his eye, so you laugh.
“C’mon, Steve,” comes a voice from the left—Nancy, stepping forward with a cautious smile. Her hair is pinned back, a few strands framing her face, and she looks surprisingly at ease despite the chaos around her. “Give yourself some credit. You’re basically running a daycare every shift the amount of times the kids are there,” she teases, though her tone is warm, not biting.
“Yeah, well, if it keeps me from being bored outta my mind, guess it’s worth it.” He snorts.
You shift, letting Nancy into the conversation fully. She meets your gaze with an inviting smile, and it strikes you how nice she is. 
Steve had mentioned her coming, and at first, it rubbed you the wrong way. Not in a dramatic, soap-opera kind of way, but in that small discomfort that settled in your stomach before you could talk yourself out of it.
You didn’t want to be that person—the one who couldn’t handle a little shared history, who needed their partner to rewrite the past just to make the present more comfortable. But still, the thought sat with you longer than you liked.
Steve had noticed, of course. He was too perceptive when it came to you, reading the tension in your jaw before you even had the words to explain it. So he reassured you—gently, patiently, with that soft-eyed sincerity he always had when something really mattered.
Without hesitation, he’d offered to uninvite her. But you shook your head because that wasn’t fair. If they were all part of the same friend group, who were you to come in and break it apart? Nancy was part of his history, but that didn’t mean she had to be an issue in his future.
And if he could move forward without looking over his shoulder, then so could you.
She was not the intimidating figure you’d somewhat imagined— the girl he had cared about so deeply in the past. Instead, she’s approachable, her eyes bright with curiosity as she acknowledges you.
“Hi,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think we’ve had a real chance to talk yet. I’m Nancy.” She offers her hand, and you take it, noticing the gentle, firm shake.
“It’s really nice to finally meet you properly.” You tell her, giving your name in return. “Steve’s told me a bit about you.”
She arches a brow at him, a playful glint there. “All good things, I hope?”
“Nothing but the best.” He raises both hands, half-defensive. 
She laughs quietly, then turns that inquisitive gaze back to you.
“So, I heard you’re, um
 you work in—”
“Journalism,” you supply with a small nod. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, but I really like it. Kinda took your place at the Hawkins Post.” You joke. “They treat me a lot better now though. It’s not anything huge, but I get to read new articles, help shape them a bit, get the occasional coffee run
 it’s fun and sometimes totally insane.”
Steve leans in, beaming with pride. 
It had gotten easier—less and less often did you show up at his house on the verge of tears after a shift. Turns out, grown men get pretty uncomfortable when you call them out on their bullshit directly. And damn, was he proud when they finally started taking you seriously.
He always knew they would. You’re a smart girl, after all.
“She’s underselling it.” He says, without the slightest bit of shame, gently nudging your shoulder. “She’s great at what she does.” 
“That sounds so much better than when I was there.” She shakes her head, reminiscing about her experiences. “I still do a lot of writing myself. I’m working at a local paper in Massachusetts right now.”
Something about her tone clicks into place for you, like a puzzle piece sliding in. 
“Right, Steve mentioned. You like it?”
“Yeah. It’s
 challenging, to say the least.” She nods, crossing her arms loosely. “Still a small paper, still small stories. But I’m building my portfolio, hoping to maybe do bigger pieces eventually.” 
A warm sense of camaraderie blooms in your chest. You completely understand that hustle, that feeling of needing to push through the drudge work to get to the fulfilling stuff. 
“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “I used to think I’d be working on these huge headlines right off the bat, but it was mostly basic editing work. Still,” you add, “I’m kind of a sucker for persevering.”
Her eyes crinkle with a real smile, and for a moment, it’s just you two, connecting over the rollercoaster that is words. 
“I know exactly what you mean. It’s exciting to be at the start of something, you know?”
“Makes the early mornings and late evenings worth it,” you tease, and she laughs. 
This was easier than you thought.
The conversation flows so smoothly that you almost forget the context—that this is Steve’s ex you’re talking to, that the only reason you even worried about her presence was because of that shared history. But here she is: easy to talk to, friendly, and—if you’re honest—reminding you a bit of yourself in how she lights up when discussing her work. You could understand how Steve fell for her in the first place. 
And that’s when it happens: Dustin bounces by with a half-eaten cake slice, eyes going wide as he sees you and Nancy chatting. He glances between you, leans in—crumbs falling from his mouth as he finishes eavesdropping. 
“Whoa, you guys are so alike.”
“Took you long enough to notice.” Erica chuckles, passing behind him.
Steve nearly chokes on air. “Excuse me?”
“I told you—” Dustin smirks at Steve, “both super nice, pushy in a good way, and way too into all that reportage stuff.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Patterns, man. I see them.”
Nancy, amused, shakes her head but doesn’t deny it. Meanwhile, you feel a curious prickle in your stomach. 
Even though you haven’t felt threatened by Nancy at all, it’s
 interesting, hearing Dustin phrase it that way, noting how similar the two of you are.
Before you can dwell on it, Steve is in full damage control mode, waving Dustin away. 
“All right, all right, that’s enough outta you, birthday boy.”
Dustin, unbothered, snickers, then scampers off to deposit his napkin onto Jonathan’s pile of party rubbish. You catch Nancy’s eye, and she looks like she wants to say something, but a flush of colour creeps across her cheeks instead. You wonder if she’s embarrassed at the topic or if she’s also noting how the conversation just positioned you and her in the same category.
“Anyway,” Nancy says softly, clearing her throat, “it was really nice talking to you. And I do want to chat more about writing. Would be great if our paths were to cross again.”
“Sure. ” You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”
She dips her head in a polite goodbye, departing to rescue Mike from an argument with Lucas. That leaves you and Steve standing there in the aftermath of Dustin’s remarks.
“Uh
 sorry about that,” he mumbles, glancing down at you. “Dustin’s always been, like, embarrassingly direct.”
A wry smile tugs at your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”
The evening drifts into its final hours with a soft sun lingering in the corners of Steve’s living room windows. Most of the balloons have deflated a little, and the noise has died down into pockets of lingering conversation. 
Dustin’s boisterous laugh echoes one last time as he heads out the door, hauling an armful of presents. Max trails behind him with the rest of the kids, carrying a few he couldn’t manage. She pauses to give you a small nod and a grin—her quiet way of saying, I like you.
You thought at first she was a tad standoffish, but her actions made you feel accepted into the small group. And if they approve of you, that's a sign that maybe you do belong here, in this makeshift family. 
Not that you’re getting ahead of yourself or anything

Robin departs next, hooking her arm through Erica’s at the last second to drag her into some half-joking conversation about finally getting a break from babysitting Steve. Which she wholeheartedly agreed with, even if she was multiple years his junior. 
Nancy laughs, glancing your way as if to share the humour, and you wave goodbye with a soft smile. Jonathan, her hand in his, offers you a polite nod. They looked so in sync, bodies unconsciously angled toward each other, moving as a unit. There’s no tension, no leftover drama—just two people who found their other half. 
The thought made you more anxious than relieved. 
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When the door finally shuts, the hush that falls over the house is unsettling. You can still hear the faint crackle of the record player, the needle resting in a quiet groove before you switched it off. Now, there’s just the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen and the soft hum of Steve’s voice—he’s singing along to the old radio as he stacks up the glasses. He told you he had it under control, and knowing you didn’t like the feeling of leftover food in the sink, he took this job for the team.
You’re left gathering discarded wrappers and balled-up napkins, your mind spiraling in circles you really don’t want to follow but couldn’t help yourself.
Nancy is lovely. Infuriatingly so. 
In fact, she was so kind, so pleasant, that it almost stings more than if she’d been cold. Because it means you can’t hate her. Not that it was your goal to do so, but you couldn’t just dismiss her as some memory in Steve’s past. 
She was right for him once, and the knowledge of how closely her life aligns with yours—similar ambitions, the same drive for success, the spark of curiosity—makes your throat feel tight.
What if Steve also sees her in you? What if every moment you thought was unique and special was just him trying to relive something he used to have with her?
You can’t stand the idea, but the rational side of your brain doesn’t seem to be cooperating. 
Steve isn’t cruel. You know that. 
He’s never been anything but considerate, thoughtful, patient with you. Hell, the amount of times he was there for you—without hesitation, without needing to be asked. Holding your hand when you were nervous, pressing a kiss to your temple when you overthought, making you laugh when you wanted to cry.
He had never once made you feel like an afterthought. He was all in. And yet, the thought gnawed at you—was he here because he chose you, or because he was still reaching for a shadow of the past? Was he even aware he was chasing her ghost?
Your fingers tighten around a crumpled paper plate, and you swallow against the lump forming in your throat. You wonder if you really are just a Nancy 2.0 as you step into the kitchen, tossing the rubbish in the bin and retreating back to the now clean living room. Not wanting to talk to him just yet. 
The water stops running, the tap squeaking as Steve turns it off. You hear him dry his hands on a dish towel, then he appears in the doorway, face lighting up for a moment—until he sees your expression.
“Finished in the kitchen,” he starts, voice warm and a little proud, then pauses. “...What’s wrong?”
He settles beside you on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight. Your shoulders tense a little—his proximity normally soothes you, but tonight, your mind won’t quiet down, and every small gesture feels magnified. He notices immediately.
“Nothing,” you say, forcing a small, tight smile. “I really liked your friends. They’re all super sweet. I can see why you get along so well.”
“Oh yeah?” There’s a warmth in his tone, a hopeful rise.
You nod, dropping your eyes to your hands. He slides closer, until his knee brushes against yours. 
“You even got Erica to like you,” he points out, sounding genuinely impressed. “It took me weeks to win her over, and you waltz in and manage it in a few hours? So not fair.”
You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes. “I’m sure she’s just being polite.”
A quick scoff breaks from Steve’s throat. “Erica doesn’t do polite unless she means it.” He places his hand lightly on your arm, and despite the tension coiled in your chest, you feel a rush of affection at the contact. “No, seriously—I loved having you here, angel. Made the whole day so much better.”
“Really?” you ask, voice wavering just enough that he picks up on your uncertainty.
“Well, yeah,” he answers, brow creasing. “I’m just glad they didn’t scare you off.”
Your lips form a weak smile. “Oh, they didn’t.”
But there’s something about your tone—some waver you can’t quite hide—and his eyes sharpen. 
“Okay, spill,” he says, leaning in. “What’s going on?”
“Huh?” You try to keep your expression neutral, but his gaze pins you.
“I know you,” he insists, a furrow carving between his brows. “You’re stressed about something.”
“I’m so not,” you counter, folding your arms tight against your chest.
“Yeah, you are,” he replies, undeterred. “You have tells.”
“Tells?” you echoed.
“Yes, tells.” He shifts forward, voice low. “So tell me—what’s on your mind? Did someone say something? Because I swear to god—”
“Steve,” you cut him off, irritation sparking. “Nobody said anything.”
“Then what is it? Was I too much? I swear I just wanted people to know how much I—”
“Steve,” you say again, louder this time, frustration rolling through you in a hot wave. “I’m fine. Drop it.”
His expression crumples the instant your sharp tone slices through the air. It’s like someone yanked the rug out from under him, and he sits there, quiet and unsure, those warm eyes losing some of their usual shine. It kills you to see him look so hurt, and you can practically feel the guilt creeping up your spine.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs at last, voice soft and almost hesitant. “You
 you don’t have to come to the next one. If it wasn’t fun, or if it was too much—”
“That’s not it,” you say, cutting him off. You watch the confusion linger on his face, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse. 
He just wanted to have a good time, to share his world with you. 
And now here you are, turning what seemed like a perfect day into something heavy and complicated.
“Then—what?” His shoulders sag. “I don’t know what else could’ve gone wrong.” His gaze flits over your features, looking for answers you haven’t yet spoken.
You swallow, steeling yourself. 
“It was just
 Nancy.”
“Nancy?” Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you two got along really well tonight.”
“Yeah,” you admit, speaking around the lump in your throat. “We did.”
He pushes a breath through his nose, like he’s sifting through every possible explanation and coming up empty.
“I thought you’d, I don’t know, bond over books or something. I mean, I know you were anxious before, but you’re both so
 nice. She’s already with Jonathan, you’ve got me—”
“Steve.” You cut him off again, trying not to let your voice waver. “We’re similar. That’s the problem.”
He blinks. “What d’you mean?” His tone is gentle, even though you see the concern in his eyes.
You rake a hand through your hair, fighting for the right words. He shifts forward, bracing himself.
“Steve, we’re really similar,” you say at last, voice low. 
“Okay?” He nods, urging you to continue. “So you have some shared interests. Where are we going with this, sweetheart?”
A shaky breath escapes you, and you force yourself to look him in the eye. 
“Are you sure you’re not still
 looking for her?”
He frowns, confused. “Looking for her? I don’t—”
“Yes, Steve. Searching for someone like Nancy because you couldn’t have her. Like I’m just the next best thing. Even the kids picked up on how alike we are.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how vulnerable you sound. “I don’t want to be some bullshit replacement, filling up the space she left behind.”
All it takes is that one word—bullshit—and the floor drops out beneath him. 
You’re looking at him, voice trembling with hurt, and the realisation that you think you’re not enough guts him. Because he knows that feeling too well. He’s been there, on the other end, wondering if he was any good for anyone. But this? This is a thousand times worse. Because it’s you—and if there’s one thing in this world he’s certain of, it’s you.
He can’t stand the heartbreak in your eyes. Can’t stand the idea that he might be the one making you feel that way. His mind scrambles for something, anything, that might put your mind at ease—words to counteract that awful notion of being not enough. 
Then, suddenly, clarity strikes. He can’t think of anything else but to go full-force, stern, direct, because you’re far too precious for soft reassurances that could be mistaken or ignored.
“Hey,” he says, voice firm enough to startle even himself, “listen to me and listen to me good, all right?”
He can see how shocked you are at the tone he’s using; you go still, your gaze locking on him in a way that assures him every word will sink in. It has to.
“Never—and I mean never—are you some kind of half-ass replacement. You hear me? So get that thought out of your head right now.”
He’s never spoken to you quite like this before, but desperation thrums under every syllable. 
I can’t lose you. Please believe me.
“I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to say it—you are not second place. You are not a replacement. I didn’t settle for you, I chose you. You think I’d waste my time with someone I didn’t want wholeheartedly?”
He asks the question as though there’s no logical answer except the truth: Of course he wouldn’t. And he can’t stop now; your silence pushes him to continue. He needs you to know.
“God, if you could see yourself the way I do, you’d never think this again. You would never doubt how much I love you. How stupidly lucky I feel every day just to have you. You are not some ghost of my past. You are my future. And nothing—no one—could ever change that.”
There’s a ringing in his ears from the intensity of his own words, and he breathes hard, every muscle coiled with tension. Your eyes are wide, shining with an emotion he can’t decipher—shock, relief, maybe both. He hopes to God his message got through.
And then—amid the silence—your voice comes out soft, almost a whisper. 
“You love me?”
The question slices through him like lightning. He falters, suddenly off-balance. 
Fuck.
Because he’s just laid bare his entire heart, more than he’s ever dared to before. But there’s no taking it back. No gentle way to hedge now.
“Yes.” He swallows. His voice is steadier than he feels inside. “I do... Simple as that.”
That was all it took.
The words barely leave his mouth before you surge forward, meeting him in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and urgent, the taste of each other a heady mix of relief and need. 
He gasps when you grip the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer, refusing to let a single breath of space linger between you. In response, his hands slide down your waist, pulling you tight against him until he can feel every curve, every line of your body against his.
“God,” he rasps against your mouth, already sounding relieved. “You—fuck.”
You hum a soft, breathy laugh escapes as he hauls you closer, helping you out as you sit and straddle his lap. His mouth is trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat as you sink your fingers into his hair, tugging, making him hiss against your lips.
He’s so desperate he doesn’t know where to touch first—fingers skimming over the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, sliding boldly beneath the hem of your—his—jumper to feel the heat of your skin. 
Everything about you feels like an invitation, a promise he’s craved for far too long. And each gasp, each little whimper you give him, only fuels that growing ache inside of him.
“Steve,” you whisper, voice cracking with urgency. He glances up, eyes dark, pupils blown. There’s something unbridled there—devotion, longing, raw determination to make sure you never doubt him again.
He pulls you closer, one hand curling around your waist, the other sliding around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans. 
Then, as though a last spark of caution flickers through his brain, he stills, pulling back just enough to look at you—really look, eyes darting between yours. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, lips reddened from your kisses. But behind that is a tenderness, a protective streak that roars beneath his surface need.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, voice so low it practically reverberates through your chest. He needs to hear you say it. Needs to hear you tell him it’s alright. “I want to make sure you’re positive, because I—I want this more than anything—to show you, to make you feel so fucking good, but
”
You let out a noise that’s both a laugh and a moan. 
“Steve,” you repeat, more breathless this time. “I want this. I want you. Please.”
He groans, eyes squeezing shut. Thank God. 
“Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve—” He takes a breath as he shudders against you, every nerve ending on fire. “Angel—fuck—wait, just a sec.”
You blink, momentarily dazed. “What—did I do something?”
He just about melts at the concerned look you’re giving him, hands immediately cupping your face as he presses his mouth against yours as he mutters reassurances. 
“No, sweetheart. You didn’t—you’re perfect.” He wills his brain to formulate a coherent sentence. Easier said than done when he has you sitting on his lap. “But, if I’m going to make love to you, I’m not going to do it on the living room couch.”
A glint sparks in his eyes, but there’s nothing playful about the way he suddenly gathers you up into his arms, hands cupping beneath your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly against his chest as he stands. Your squeal of surprise echoes in the now-quiet house as you cling to his shoulders, heart pounding.
You laugh out his name and his only response is to tighten his hold on you, a grin tugging at his kiss-swollen lips, before he turns and starts up the stairs, carrying you like you weigh nothing. 
Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips brushing the line of his jaw, and his low groan vibrates in your ear, spurring him to climb faster.
He kicks the bedroom door open with his foot, all too eager to finally have you in his arms, in his bed. He sets you down on the edge of the mattress, his hands lingering at your hips as though he can’t bear to lose contact. 
You’re about to tease him for being so careful, but the sight of him—flushed cheeks, hair a disheveled mess from your fingers, lips reddened—steals the quip from your tongue.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. As urgent as he feels, there’s that undercurrent of protectiveness, that need to check you’re here with him for all the right reasons.
Your smile is a little breathless. “I’m more than okay.”
He exhales slowly, like your reassurance is the only permission he needed to keep going. Then he nudges your knees apart so he can step in closer, pressing your bodies flush. The warmth of him is addictive—solid arms, broad chest, that steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your palms.
A shiver runs down your spine when he bends to brush a slow kiss along the side of your throat, teeth just barely grazing your skin. Your head falls back, and he uses the moment to trail more kisses along your jaw, your collarbone, mapping the curve of your shoulder as if memorising every inch.
“Lie down for me,” he whispers, voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep it gentle.
You slide back onto the bed, propping yourself on your elbows, and he kneels near the edge, guiding your legs up so you’re fully on the bed. His hand glides beneath your clothes, pushing it slowly upward, knuckles skimming the bare skin of your waist. His gaze locks with yours as he slips it off over your head, making sure you’re still okay with each inch of exposed skin. You can’t help the small, playful grin that tugs at your lips. 
“Careful, Harrington,” you tease, breath hitching when he plants a soft kiss at the center of your sternum. “At this rate, it’ll be sunrise before you get these clothes off.”
He huffs a little laugh against your skin, the warm puff of air sending a tingle racing across your flesh. 
“You deserve careful,” he says, words muffled by the increasingly desperate kisses he’s leaving along the tops of your breasts, your clavicle. “But don’t think for a second I’m not dying to tear everything off you, angel.”
His fingers drift to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper with a focus that makes your stomach flip. He eases them down your hips, helping you lift so he can slide them all the way off. Then, with a featherlight touch, he glides his hands up your thighs, sending sparks of electricity racing through you.
“Steve,” you breathe, voice catching when he leans down to kiss your newly bared skin. He starts at your calf, working his way leisurely up, each press of his lips driving you a little bit more insane. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re trembling—desperate for him.
“Look at you,” he coos, voice shaking with something close to awe. His fingers slide along the band of your underwear, and he gently pulls them down, letting them join your jeans on the floor. With each inch, he leaves more of you uncovered, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you feeling bare in more ways than one.
You try to close your legs, feeling slightly exposed with the way he is gazing at you, but his hand is firm as it grips your thigh, holding you open. You hold your breath as his fingers skim over your folds, head falling back as his thumb circles your clit slowly. 
“Shit,” he breathes out, second hand joining to gather some of your wetness on his fingers. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, angel.”
“Steve,” you murmur, voice quivering with need. Your fingers thread into his hair, urging him closer, your body already winding tight from the warmth of his breath against you.
“God,” he mutters, words muffled by another kiss to your thigh. “I’ve wanted this—wanted to do this—for so damn long.”
He shifts, situating himself more comfortably. Then, with a half-lidded glance in your direction, he leans in and presses his mouth against your clit in a way that shatters every remaining thought in your head. 
A soft cry tumbles from your lips, and he groans at the sound, pulling you in deeper, his grip on your thighs tightening.
He moves carefully, learning your reactions, letting your gasps and moans guide him. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, is a question: Is this good? More? Show me. And every time you arch your back or let out a ragged whisper of his name, he answers with another fervent, deliciously slow pass of his mouth.
"Fuck, angel, I could do this all night.” He dives back in. “Keep you here, keep you shaking over and over on my tongue."
He’s so tender in his insistence, balancing the sharp edge of hunger with a profound concern for your pleasure. One of his hands slides up to lace your fingers together, and he squeezes—almost like he’s grounding himself in the moment, sharing each pulse of sensation so you know he’s right there with you. The other hand strokes up your thigh and curls around your hip, keeping you anchored against him.
“Oh, God,” you gasp, voice pitching higher when he drags his tongue across your pussy with a pointed languidness. Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, and he shudders, his fingers reflexively pressing into your skin.
He pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard. His voice comes out in a low rasp, intense in its sincerity. 
“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbles dazed as he returns to his ministrations. Lapping against you like he couldn’t possibly get enough. 
A wave of warmth crashes over you at his words—any lingering insecurities vanish beneath the heat of his devotion. You tug lightly at his hair, guiding him back, and he happily obliges. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, building you up in a dizzying ascent, then quickens when your moans become urgent.
Your heels dig into his back, and you choke out something unintelligible—his name, a plea, a broken sob of bliss. He groans in response, the sound reverberating through your entire body, heightening the sensation until you think you might shatter from it. 
There’s something almost reverent in how thorough he is, like he wants to memorise every reaction, every hitch of your breath.
“You’re making the sweetest fucking noises, baby.” He murmurs. “Driving me insane.”
Tension coils in your stomach, winding tighter with each measured flick of his tongue. Your grip on his hand is borderline crushing, but he just grins against you, absolutely thrilled by the desperation in your touch. 
That’s all the encouragement he needs to push you closer and closer to the edge. His name tumbles from your lips again, a breathless entreaty, and he groans, the vibration sending sparks skittering across your skin.
He can tell you’re close—he can feel it in the way your hips jerk, the way your pussy clenches, the way your voice climbs. And he wants it for you, wants to be the reason you come apart so completely that you’ll never doubt his devotion again. 
“Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” before diving back in with a perfect, rhythmic swirl that makes your entire body tense.
The tension snaps. A rush of pleasure bursts inside you, and you let out a cry that would embarrass you if you could think about anything but the ecstasy roaring through your veins. 
Your hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and he moans like the taste of your release is exactly what he’s been dying for. He works you through every pulse, every aftershock, with gentle flicks of his tongue until you’re quivering in oversensitivity, pushing lightly at his head to let him know you can’t take another second.
When he finally straightens up to see you—lying back against his pillows, clad in just your bra—you spot a flicker of pure hunger crossing his face. He swallows hard and you see your release glistening against his chin as he does. He’s trying to keep himself tethered to sanity, but it’s a losing battle.
“Not fair that I’m the only one so
 exposed,” you breathe out, hooking a finger into the hem of his jumper.
 “Impatient, huh?” He lets out a shaky chuckle as he licks his lips.
You roll your eyes in faux annoyance, tugging firmly at the fabric. He gets the hint. In one smooth motion, he yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. You catch a glimpse of toned arms and the lean planes of his chest, and it steals your breath all over again.
But he’s not done—he pops open the button of his jeans, sliding them down until they pool at his ankles, stepping out with a sense of urgency that has you biting your lip. For a moment, he just stands there, letting you take in the sight of him, hair messy, eyes blown wide with desire, wearing only his boxers.
“Better?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
You drag your gaze up and down, unrepentant in your ogling. “Much.”
Steve’s eyes glitter with raw need as he hovers over you, his body pressed so tight you can hardly breathe. Every breath you take is steeped in the mix of his cologne and the sweet, desperate scent of your own arousal. 
“God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters under his breath, his gaze roaming over your curves with a barely restrained hunger. One of his hands grips your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist. “Don’t know how the hell I got so lucky.”
You can’t manage a reply—your breath stutters as he runs his other hand up your side, fingers skimming your ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast in a fleeting touch. The contrast between how tender he’s being and the way his voice drips with a filthy promise makes you whimper, arching into his touch.
He leans in, teeth nipping at your lower lip before he kisses you slow and deep. It's messy and you can taste yourself on his tongue. 
“Fuck,” he whines, “I need you, sweetheart. Need you right now—can I?” His voice cracks with urgency, and you feel every syllable reverberate through your body.
“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Steve. I—”
He cuts you off with another kiss, sliding his hand between your thighs, which have only got stickier. He groans at the way you shiver, so worked up that you feel like you might combust if he doesn’t fuck you this instant.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So wet for me.” Then, in a lower tone. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby—gonna make you forget anything else exists except how good my cock feels inside you.”
His words took you by surprise. Your usual sweet boyfriend was downright obscene with his words.
You knew he had a sharp tongue, but you had no idea how damn filthy he could make it. 
He reaches into the bedside table and tears the condom wrapper off with his teeth, making quick work of sliding it over his length.
The moment he lines his cock up at your entrance, you can feel the tension in his body—like he’s holding back a tidal wave of desire, absolutely determined not to hurt you, to make sure you’re comfortable.
“You good?” he rasps, voice tight.
“Yes,” you pant. “Steve
 please.”
He exhales a ragged breath and pushes into you, inch by inch, until the stretch of him draws a moan so raw from your lips that he answers with a guttural “Fuck.” 
Your head falls back, the sensation an exquisite combination of pleasure and the ache of being so completely stuffed. He stays there a moment, trembling arms caging you in, nose brushing yours as you grip him like a vice.
“Angel,” he chokes out, voice thick, “You—you feel so fucking perfect. Look at me.”
You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the ferocity of his desire sends another wave of arousal flooding through your veins, clenching around his length. 
“You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am?”
All you can do is nod dumbly as his hand presses on your lower stomach. He knows you can feel him there.
He starts a slow rhythm, hips rolling, each thrust calculated to bring you higher. And for all his filthy talk, there’s a sweetness in the way he cups your cheek, kisses your jaw, your collarbone, like he can’t decide which part of you he loves most.
“God, yes,” he groans, each thrust picking up in intensity. “You like that? Tell me you like it.”
“I love it,” you gasp, fingers clawing at his back. “Steve, you feel—God, you feel amazing.”
He lets out a breathless laugh that ends in another throaty moan as he angles his hips just so, making you keen against his lips. His pace quickens, every stroke hitting deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve.
“Fuck—baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses, his mouth at your ear. “So damn tight for me. Never want this to end—wanna keep you like this, under me, always on my cock—cumming so hard you forget your own name.”
Jesus, if you knew this was how he was going to talk, you would have given him the green light weeks ago.
He punctuates the filthy promise with a particularly deep thrust, and your toes curl, a cry spilling from your throat as you cling to him. You’re quickly losing yourself in the haze of his words, his body, his everything.
You utter his name in a choked sob, and it’s like a starter’s pistol. He shifts his angle just enough that the strokes perfectly grind against that sensitive spot inside your walls. The pleasure mounts in a dizzying spiral, your body tensing as you hover on the brink of release.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice gone ragged, snapping his hips more insistently. “God, cum for me, sweetheart. I need to feel it—want to feel it so bad.”
And with one more roll of his hips, you do—crying out, body arching as the orgasm shatters through you. Every nerve in your body lights up as you clamp down, and his guttural moan tells you he’s right there with you, grinding through your climax until he’s spilling himself into the rubber, breathing your name over and over like a prayer.
For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, hearts pounding, bodies tangled in the sheets. Then he sags against you, pressing lazy, tender kisses to your shoulder and murmuring small, breathless praises that make your cheeks burn with warmth.
The afterglow is still pulsing between you—soft, warm, and intimate. He leans down to press feathery kisses to your shoulder, your chest, up the side of your neck, murmuring words of reassurance and awe.
“You did so good,” he breathes, voice low and reverent. “So perfect.”
Heat flutters in your chest at the praise, and you can’t help but giggle, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair and guide his face to yours. Your lips meet in a searing kiss, slow and sweet. When you finally pull back, you find him watching you with those big, earnest eyes.
“Was I
 okay?” he asks, cheeks turning pink in a bashful sort of way. “Like, everything good for you?”
“More than okay.” You let out a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. “That was perfect.”
“Yeah?” he echoes, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah.” You brush a thumb across his lower lip, feeling a spark of amusement as you remember the filth he whispered moments ago. “When were you gonna tell me you had such a dirty mouth?”
Instantly, his face flames. He cannot be blamed for what he said in the heat of the moment. It was hard to have a filter when he had you mewling underneath him.
“Hey, well, uh
 I don’t
 I mean, I—”
“Shh.” You chuckle, placing a finger over his lips “I loved it.”
“Oh yeah?” He exhales, relief and pride mingling. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind—my girl likes it a little dirty.” 
“C’mon, lover boy.” A fresh wave of laughter bubbles out of you. You let him help you up, your legs still a bit shaky. He steadies you with a strong arm around your waist and guides you to the bathroom so you can rinse off the sheen of sweat and bliss.
The shower is warm and comforting, the water sluicing away every last trace of tension as you help each other soap up and rinse off. When you emerge, toweling your hair and feeling the pleasant ache of satisfaction in your muscles, you notice Steve holding out one of his old T-shirts for you to slip on. You beam, tugging it over your head before crawling into bed next to him, the soft cotton drowning you in his familiar scent.
He pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. The hush of the room, the warmth of the covers, and the steady sound of his heartbeat lull you into a sweet, sleepy contentment.
“Hey,” he murmurs, turning so his nose brushes yours.
“Mmm?” you reply, lashes fluttering.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
Your heart clenches at the simple sincerity in his tone. “I love you too, Steve.”
And with that, his arms tighten around you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that in the morning, you’ll both wake up in the same bed, same sappy looks on your faces, same lovesick smiles as you bask in the golden morning light. Steve will probably be watching you already, grinning like a fool, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back, because he’s just that smitten.
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spiderfunkz · 5 months ago
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MEET ME IN GWANGMYEONG
pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader
cw. inspired heavily by the movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind", memory-erasing procedure, established relationship, the use of 'y/n', angst, bittersweet ending.
author's note: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind is my favorite movie ever. reblogs and likes help a lot! the hyun-ju fandom is dying as we speak.. i have a few requests i need to get done, so it might take some time.
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it's been a week and three days since hyun-ju's disappearance.
you're worried sick, you've filed a missing persons report, but shortly after, the case was shut cold. she disappeared without a trace, no letter, no text on where she might've went, no call, no nothing. it was like she was never with you to begin with, she was like a blurry dream that was too good to be true.
you couldn't endure anymore of this sadness, the memories were driving you crazy— she cared about you, you knew that. she's spent so much time with you, the dates with her don't feel real anymore, you wondered if she was still even out there. the chances are slim, and day by day, you lose hope.
lacuna inc. was just around the corner, as deep as you are in debts, you had some change. this procedure was worth it.
it's simple, and yes, it does technically count as brain damage, but it couldn't be worse than the sleepless nights you've spent, with bottles of soju, and hyun-ju's picture nearby.
you would come in wednesday, come again thursday, and the procedure should be done by thursday night. you've booked the first briefing appointment, they told you to gather all the items you have that resemble hyun-ju— even in the slightest, it needs to be gotten rid of.
does it hurt? absolutely. you stared blankly at the two huge boxes in front of you, it was filled with everything hyun-ju has ever given to you, every single letter she has written from the depths of her heart, all the clothes you've shared together— even the first skirt she bought with you. it seems impossible, but you keep reminding yourself that it would be for the better, is this what people call gaslighting?
it took you a moment to erase her texts. there was one text before she left. it was from you, telling her to come home early because you cooked her favorite meal. aw, how sad, you hit the delete button.
thursday felt suffocating. you felt like you were stuck in the corner of your tiny bathroom, huddled up, knees bent and hugged by your chest. it didn't matter how big the room for the appointment was, you felt like you couldn't breathe.
you came home and slept like a baby. you thought to yourself, you'll wake up a new person. for the better, definitely. at this point, no, you didn't consider any other negatives of this. it was too late anyways, it's been paid, and it's far too late to go back.
the birds chirp, signaling the sun rising.
you wake up according to your alarm, it reads, "7 am, go to work."
you do. you get ready, put on your best clothes, simple makeup, hair done like you've always done it— at least from what you remember, for some reason, you forgot how to braid your hair. even though you swore, it was braided every morning.
whatever, you probably had a weird dream. that's all.
left corner, turn, straight, go right. why couldn't you recall your steps to work correctly? you felt cold, you had your coat on. there was a sort of absence lingering in your chest. you can't pinpoint what it was exactly. maybe you just forgot something at home.
at least the day went by fast. you were excited to go back home and take a nice bath. it felt oddly empty, did you sell your furniture? you shrugged it off, but then you heard a knock. sounded familiar, like a wave of déjà vu just hit you.
you peeped through the peep-hole before opening.
"hello? may i help you?" what a poor sight you were seeing. a woman was standing, rather helplessly, at your front door. she was holding a card, you don't know what it is exactly. there were two of them. one had shapes on them, and one had a tiny 'lacuna inc.' writing.
did you go to work with her? maybe she was another passerby you see often, or someone you went to school with. either way, she looked at you with pure fright and confusion. what a strange combination for a.. stranger.
"what?" her voice rasps, "y/n?"
"how do you know my name? sorry, do i know you?"
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entouragestories · 1 year ago
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Second Life
I’ve been were busy recently and haven’t had time to write and I’ve also had writers block, I wanna thank @chavdrone and @kaithescallylad for inspiring me to write this story! ________________________________________________
Oliver was walking home from a friend towards the bus stop when he noticed a new shop. He had been around this part of London many times and had never seen this store before. Its dusty storefront displayed many different styled mannequins in attempts to be trendy, but they just ended up cheesy. Oliver looked at the store and read the half-broken neon sign, “Second life”; it was a second-hand shop. Oliver had time to kill, so he took the opportunity to check the store. It was open, and he went in. He was met by a large arrangement of racks with clothes and shelves; he didn't know where to start. The store seemed to be empty of any customers, and the checkout was empty as well, so Oliver just went around browsing for potential items.
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Oliver was your average guy. He studied at some college in London he had recently turnt 20 and described by his nerdy characteristics: brown overgrown hair, glasses, a lanky build, and an normal clothing style. It was out of character for Oliver to blink twice at the White Nike trainers he just passed. His body felt drawn towards the pair, and even though the pair were size 11s and his feet were size 9, he felt obliged to try them on. He grabbed them and went towards a dressing room, not finding any other mirror or place to sit; he went there. Oliver removed his boots and put on the White Nike Tns. At first, he felt amused seeing these large, comically-looking sneakers on his feet, but that soon changed. The sneakers quickly started feeling moist, wet, and they were smelling; he was confused. Becoming uncomfortable, he quickly tried to yank off the sneakers, but to no avail, they were simply stuck, and the size gap weirdly felt snug.
Unbeknownst to Oliver, Second Life wasn't just an ordinary second-hand shop; no, it was a store offering a new life. Each item dropped off by the last owner transferred their essence into the new owner, ultimately forming a second life for the customer. Oliver's body started to change, and his height increased; his body frame started filling out, his lanky arms becoming toned, and his stomach gaining the outlines of some abs. His body gained a lean look, and his body started to emit the same smell his sneakers had; ultimately, exuding masculinity mixed with a new fragrance coming from his body, some cheap Axe deodorant and cologne. Oliver's face started changing; Oliver originally had slim and feminine features, a round nose and jaw, and a kind-looking face. That dramatically changed as his jaw started to square up, some stubble growing in, and his mouth gaining a stupid expression, a stupid grin. His nose swelled up and got crooked from all the fights he "supposedly" had gone through, and his eyes squinted up as well as his brow ridge squared up, his eyebrows becoming full and dark, and his ears becoming pierced. Oliver's hairstyle went from his long hair to a short-styled fade.
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Oliver's clothes disintegrated all but his underwear that changed into some blue Nike boxers, as well as his bulge growing to accommodate his new length and foot size. Oliver's body started getting new clothes as a black football tracksuit materialized on him, the pants tucked into his socks, and he ultimately got a chain around his neck, finalizing his new look.
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The last step was his mental state; Oliver's mind adjusted to his new persona and changed him into Ozzy, a 20-year-old British chav. Ozzy didn't go to college like those fancy shits; instead, he spent his days hanging with his brothers and working for some money. Gone was Oliver, and the world around him had erased Oliver for good. The store owner watched the whole change back in the storage, checking out another happy customer.
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jlheon · 1 year ago
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ౚৎ — hair dye (sjy)
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pairing. bf! sim jaeyun x fem! reader synopsis. you and jake decide to get matching hair colors genre. est. relationship fluff wc. 1241 notes. if jake goes red maybe i will too! library.
you were a force to reckon with. once you started dating jake, both of you paired together made for many impulsive late-night decisions.
just as tonight did.
it was nearly 2 am when you had sat up from bed with a ‘brilliant’ idea.
you and jake were not sleeping yet, the sunset lamp you purchased was still on to illuminate the room.
you had brought it over since you spent more time at jake's house than at your apartment.
you two mindlessly scrolled on your phones, enjoying the comfortable silence.
“baby why are you up?” jake mumbled, his arm locking around your waist to bring you back to his chest.
“you would do anything for me right?” you asked, looking down at him and brushing some hair strands off his forehead.
“of course,” he sat up next to you, taking your smaller hand in his. “where is this coming from?” his eyes shone with slight worry.
“would you dye your hair to match with me?”
and that is all it took for you and jake to get in the car and drive to the nearest hair supply store. for some reason, your hair supply store was thankfully open when you arrived.
letting out an exhale in relief as you and jake came up upon the ‘OPEN’ light sign, he opened the door and ushered you in first. mostly because neither of you even considered checking if the place was open.
“hi ____! nice to see you and..?” liz, the cashier, greeted.
she had known you as a frequent customer due to your tendency to get bored of your hair quickly.
“hi liz! this my boyfriend jake! we’re looking for some red hair dye enough for the both of us.” you explained, tugging him along when liz led you down an aisle.
“this should be enough!” she handed you a large bottle of developer, which jake quickly took off your hands.
the three of you walked towards the checkout to get ringed up. before liz even finished scanning all your items jake had already taken his silly minion card out to pay.
“ikeu it was my idea, you should have let me pay.” you huffed, settling into the passenger’s seat while he made sure you were buckled properly.
you had no idea when he started checking your seatbelt but he had been insistent ever since he started.
you told him multiple times you could buckle yourself but he said it made him feel more at ease. so who were you to oppose?
“you know that as long as i have money i’ll never let you pay baby,” he said, turning on the car engine, and driving back towards his apartment.
when you reached his building the sky decided to downpour.
making jake run to the passenger’s side to get you so he could wrap the both of you in his jacket and make a run for it.
once you had made it inside you both were completely drenched. sharing many giggles in the elevator, due to you calling him a puppy after a bath. he was just so cute.
unlocking his door he got himself changed into a new set of clothes and got you one of his old t-shirts to change into. picking shirts he wouldn’t mind getting dirty. grabbing some towels from the bathroom so you could start your hair dye escapade.
you sat on the bathroom counter, jake standing between your legs, putting the red dye all over his hair.
you made sure to wear gloves as you had an afternoon lecture the next day and didn’t want it to look like you killed elmo.
jake basked in the fact you were continuously carding your fingers through his hair.
sliding off the countertop when you finished his hair, you kept your gloves on. letting him help you do the back of your head while you handled the front.
he purposely got some on your neck, the coolness of the dye making you shake. in spite, you reached up to put some on his ears.
the acoustics of the bathroom amplifying your shared giggles, which you tried to lessen due to sunghoon being asleep in the room next door.
the soft sounds of your playlist filled the room while you both sat on the bathroom floor with a 30-minute timer for the dye to set in.
the alarm on your phone started to vibrate, signaling it was time to wash your hair.
since you had did your boyfriend's hair first he had to wash his out first. you put on another pair of gloves and had jake lean over the bathtub so you could rinse out the product.
the water from the faucet turned a bright red once hitting jake's hair. you used shampoo and conditioner to make sure jake wouldn’t sleep without the soft hair you loved to play with.
after you checked his hair was fully washed, you had him dry it with a towel as a hairdryer would most definitely disturb sunghoon’s slumber.
you had laughed once you switched places, jake now washing your hair, since he forgot to wear gloves his hands quickly turned a bright shade of red.
he didn’t even bother correcting his mistake, not minding the staining that would last for a couple of days at least.
as both of you dried your hair in front of the mirror you admired your matching hair.
smiling at how quickly he agreed to do his hair just for you.
he saw you grinning at him in the mirror and leaned down to kiss all over your face, rambling on about how the red suits you perfectly.
brushing your teeth and cleaning up the mess of hair products around his bathroom, you both finally headed to bed.
jake slipping into the spot next to you, engulfing you into a hug and intertwining his legs with yours.
by now it was nearly 6 am the sun was starting to peek out.
despite the sunlight creeping into the room through the cracks in the curtains, you both were knocked out like lights.
at around 9 am sunghoon waltzed into jake’s bedroom ready to ask him if he and you wanted anything for breakfast.
only to be met with a lump of blankets and red-stained hands peeking out from under the covers.
“OH MY GOD JAKE WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD!” sunghoon shrieked, ripping the blankets off of you both.
triggering you both to tiredly groan. trying to return to sleep, you buried your head in the crook of jake’s neck, letting him deal with sunghoon alone.
“take a look at our hair hoon,” he rasped out.
“oh i see
” sunghoon lied. “it’s..?” waiting for someone to finish his sentence.
“it’s red hoon.” you deadpanned, shooing him to get out.
“OH! looks awesome guys! when did you do it?”
“at 2 am, now get out.”
“you are so cranky jake,” sunghoon pouted. “i guess i’ll only get ____ breakfast on my way back from class.”
“no please hoon i am so hungry..” jake pleaded.
“all you get is a slice of untoasted toast.”
“isn’t that just bread?”
“he will take whatever you give him just let me go back to sleep oh my god.” you groaned, flipping over.
“goodnight baby,” jake said, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you.
“it’s morning,” sunghoon commented.
“get out hoon.”
“finee,” he sulked, closing the door behind him.
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suhkusa · 1 year ago
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EGOIST 21.
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PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader
CW. angst, hurt with maybe some comfort but you really have to squint, some closure, plot
A/N. it's over isn't it isn't it isn't it over
-> MASTERLIST.
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The team you had signed with gave you about a month to make your move. Which was honestly not a burden, considering they paid for everything. They even paid for your housing and other necessities for when you moved to the states.
A month also gives you enough time to hang out with any of your friends or family.
The week that you accept the job offer, you spend it with your family back in your hometown. Spending 7 days with your loved ones before you left across the globe was bittersweet. It was a jam-packed 7 days, but it was still fun. It felt nostalgic to be in the town you were raised in, seeing many familiar faces and buildings.
You cry when you bid your family goodbye. 
“You tell me if you ever need anything, ‘kay?” your sister mumbles into your shoulder, her own tears wetting the material.
All you’re able to respond with is a frantic nod of your head. You crash into your parents’ arms as they whisper words of love and praise into your ears. It all reminds you of when you first left for college. You always were a crybaby, huh?
As you got into your car, you gave them all one last wave before letting the sound of the car ambience fill your ears.
You, for the most part, pay no mind to your surroundings, letting the colors of nature and architecture outside blur into one. Until you come to a stop. 
Only catching a peek, you realize you’re stopped right next to your old high school. You catch yourself in the midst of a thought, a thought about a certain someone. You instantly crush that thought and throw it to the back of your mind. 
Out of sight, out of mind.
———
The rest of your time before the week of your departure is spent with friends or just relaxing. After all, you’d probably get straight to work when you get settled in your new place. 
After procrastinating and putting it off for so long, you finally get to packing. It’s not too hard, since you find yourself to be a minimalist and don’t have too much in the first place. The most packing you had to do was taking apart your computer. Second to that is probably your clothes. 
When the day before your flight finally came, you wound up tired and lazy on your couch. Part of you was excited, excited to leave the country for a whole new experience. But on the other hand, this country was your home. You were leaving so many people behind. So many memories. But perhaps the latter was for the better.
You could feel yourself dozing off. Your place was dark as the night took over the city. You quickly input 4 different alarms onto your phone before finding yourself relaxing on the comforter. 
Knock, knock.
You chalk it up to your imagination or the fact you’re already half asleep. You ignore it.
Knock, knock, knock.
Realizing it’s definitely not your imagination, you think back if you ordered any last minute items. You didn’t. So maybe it’s a burglar. Or they just got the wrong home.
Knock.
Now you definitely need to call the police, because–
“Y/N, it’s me,”
Your eyes shoot open at the familiar voice. Should you go through with calling the police? You did tell him that you would. 
“I know you’re in there, I just– I just need to talk to you one more time before you leave, please,”
You sigh and weigh your options. Did you really want to carry the burden of what the conversation with him might hold all the way to California? Or would this one time be alright? Would you finally get closure and be able to forget about him once and for all?
You’re up and heading for the door when you choose. You open it to a disheveled Atsumu. He had eyebags and his eyes were halfway swollen and it makes you pity him. When he looks up at you, you swear his eyes sparkle a little.
“What do you want, Miya?” you start.
The name makes him flinch a bit, but he continues, “I know you don’t want to see me, but I just need to explain everything to you,”
Did you really want to relive the betrayal he put you through in extreme detail? Nonetheless, you felt bad, you didn’t think ending things with him would affect him this badly. You kick yourself mentally in rejoicing in the fact that you’d make him like this.
With a nod of your head, you move to the side, “Come in,”
When he enters your place, he’s looking around frantically. It’s definitely changed since the last time he was here.
“Already packed, I see,” he comments, “Are you excited?”
You’re confused at his words, but give him a response, “Yep,”
You both find seating in your living room across from each other. “Out with it,” you say.
It takes him a moment. He looks into your eyes, then down, then back up at you once again. His fingers are fidgety as he tries to find the courage and the words.
“I’m sorry,” is what he starts with. 
“You gave me a chance and I screwed it up, it’s no one’s fault but my own. I never meant for the picture to get out, I promise to you that I never ever sent it to anyone. I even deleted it,”
“Then how did she get it?” you question, desperate for answers. You loved your job, but that whole incident made it basically impossible for you to return to the team with it being how it used to be.
Your voice catches his attention and causes him to pause for a moment, “I– She admitted to going through my recently deleted. I was never going to do anything with it, I took it out of jealousy,” 
“But why? You hated me that day you took the picture. You’ve always hated me,”
“Not always, don’t say that,” his voice is desperate, “I don’t know why, but even before we started talking normally, I’d get jealous of you and Omi. I didn’t like the way seeing the two of you together would make me feel,”
Your silence allows him to continue.
“As for Angie, I don’t talk to her anymore. When she texted me that day when you left, that was the first time I’ve talked to her since the last time I met with her. I’ve been ignoring her texts and calls. I ended things with her because I felt myself getting more attached to you as the days went by, and I felt disgusted when I was with Angie,”
He’s quiet for a moment, and you feel like you should say something. You’re not sure what though. 
“Why’d you say she was your cousin? Why couldn’t you have told me the truth there and then?”
“Because things had just gotten good with you, Y/N. At first, I never wanted anything to do with you. I did everything to drive you away, yet you were always on my mind, it drove me insane. And even after all of that, you still gave me the time of day. I felt so lucky that you’d really given me a chance, that I felt like if I fumbled in any way, you’d slip away. It happened anyway though,”
His words sadden you. But you were definitely the stupid one for giving him a chance in the first place.
“From the very beginning, I just wanted to avoid you, Atsumu,” his name causes his eyes to widen, “But then you treated me like shit, just like you did in high school. And I absolutely hated you for it. But then everything began to shift, and it scared me. You became nice and it felt like you really cared about me. Everything changed and I felt myself beginning to like you, and you’d finally apologized to me so it felt like you really regretted everything you did to me,”
“I do regret what I’ve done to you–”
“Let me finish,” he nods in defeat, “So I gave you a chance, and it was fun. I thought it’d be different, that you would be,” 
“But no matter what, we reached the outcome I truly wanted to avoid. It was inevitable though, I suppose. Whether I had let you in or not, you were always going to hurt me,”
An awkward silence washes over the both of you. You hardly realized you had started to tear up. 
“Even now, I still like you, Atsumu,” you finally admit, “But you’ve hurt me so much, I feel like I’ll never be able to trust anyone ever again. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never even love again,”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” is all he manages. 
“Your apologies mean nothing, Atsumu. At the end of the day, what’s done is done, and I don’t think we’ll ever be able to be what we wanted to be,” 
He’s crying now, but you don’t move to comfort him. Not when you couldn’t even help yourself.
“I’m moving away tomorrow, away from here, away from you,” you sigh through the tears, “I want to forget everything along with you. I want to be able to live my life without everything reminding me of you,”
“Y/N, please– stay. I’d do anything, just stay,” he’s desperate through his own slowly falling tears. And you can feel it yourself, he’s telling the truth.
“Please don’t,” you cry, his words daunting you, “You need to leave, Atsumu. I’ve heard you out, and you’ve heard me,”
You’re getting up and he’s frozen. You could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind. His eyes close and his head drops before he’s getting up.
“Thank you for everything, Atsumu,” you tell him, words caught between sniffles, “I wish you the best in the future,”
As he walks through the door frame he gives you a solemn look back, “Thank you for everything Y/N, thank you for giving me a chance,”
There’s a pause in time as the two of you look at each other, caught in the moment. You force yourself to shut the door, feeling like if you looked at him any longer, you’d fold all over again. You take a few deep breaths before wiping the tears at your eyes. Walking over to your couch, you resume the position you were in earlier. 
You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow, but for some reason you were calm. It felt like the clouds that had surrounded your heart for the past months had finally dissipated. For the first time in a while, it felt like you could breathe clearly. Your mind was finally clear. 
As you fell asleep in this place you’ve called home for nearly a year for the last time, you’re finally able to let go of everything. 
Goodbye Atsumu.
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© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.
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jojikawa · 2 years ago
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Ice Cream & Kisses 🍹
Sukuna makes Yuuji agree to terms that involve visiting you more regularly.
tw// fluff, adult language, MC is Lilith! (a powerful demoness), lewd/suggestive themes.
masterlist
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Full Image + Artist: bikku__2
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Yuuji found himself pretty exhausted from his excessive training at school, so when he finally got back to his dorm, he was just grateful to be in bed again. This is how things went for a while until he had taken Sukuna to meet you again for the first time. Now, he bothered Yuuji every night. The helpless boy was caught in the middle of a love that lasted thousands of years. The King of Curses thoughts of you bled into his own. It made Yuuji curious about what your relationship with Sukuna was like. On the surface, you seemed kind and gentle. Your voice was soft-spoken and you were utterly gorgeous as your beauty was unaffected by age.
Although, your sheep’s clothing didn’t change the wolf that was inside. You were the Goddess of Demons. The first woman, condemned by God themself and turned into the first woman-shaped demon. If Sukuna is supposed to be this terrifying threat, he couldn’t imagine what sort of threat you’d be. To be honest, he was just grateful that you are as docile as you come off to be. For now, at least.
So, when Ryomen Sukuna approached Yuuji with an offer, he wasn’t too on the fence about the whole thing.
“New rules, kid. Trust me, you’re gonna like them too.” 
A mouth on the side of Yuuji’s face formed to utter these words. With his eyebrows knitted together, he replied “Whenever I agree to something with you, it never goes well. I don’t believe you when you say I’ll ‘like’ them either!” Then he proceeded to fold his pillow over to suffocate Sukuna’s mouth so that he could rest. 
“Don’t you wanna lay your head down somewhere other than this shitty bed?!”
Suddenly, Yuuji became a bit self-conscious of the bed he had been lying in. The school beds were fine
right? However, he noticed how his back would hurt sometimes. Sukuna spoke his new terms to which Yuuji reluctantly agreed.
“You listen to me and you listen closely. After school, you go find her. I won’t ask again. Understood?”
It was the evening. You had spent nearly all day at the local elementary school before you walked the children to their routes as usual before going to your spacious apartment. The weather was distrustful. It was spring so it would rain, but some days it would be dry and others you’d even still feel the bitter cold of winter nipping at your cheeks and making them sore.
After your talk with Sukuna again, you expected him to take what you said seriously. You didn’t know how the two of you could be together with Yuuji always around. It was awkward. So, you wanted him to figure out his situation first. You dangled the possibility over his head the way you would a biscuit for a dog.
knock! knock! knock!
You had just sat down on your couch, hot cocoa in hand when you heard a series of knocks at your door. You hoped that it wasn’t your disturbing neighbor. Anything but her. Instead of setting your mug down, you took it with you to the door.
Upon opening it, you saw that it was—
“You found me again.” You smugly sipped your drink as you laid eyes upon Yuuji. A blush of embarrassment covered his face. “He made me come.” He couldn’t help but shut his eyes when he caught the sight of what you chose to wear. There was nothing sexual about it at all—really. It’s just that Sukuna’s filthy thoughts shouted over Yuuji’s innocent ones. Internally, he ushered the boy to open his eyes so that the King of Curses could see you in all of your glory. 
“You can come in, I suppose.” You stepped aside, allowing the boy to come in. Getting inside, he took in the familiar warmth of the living space. It was cozy and suited for one person. Carpeted rugs, couches with fuzzy pillows, feminine-scented items, and lastly
demons?
“What is that!?” Yuuji yelled, pointing in disbelief at the small imp that was stalking him in the doorway of your kitchen. It was a small, ugly thing
looking like some sort of deformed animal. In its clawed hand was a can of febreeze that it dropped and ran away out of fear of the human, Yuuji. 
“It’s getting away!” The boy added, causing you to laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. That's one of my little helpers. His name is Gnaar.” 
“You just have those things running around? Isn’t that dangerous?” Yuuji frowned. You figured that he wasn’t able to differentiate curses and demons.
“No,” Your eyes rolled to the left, sipping more of your drink. “They’re harmless.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I know you didn’t come all this way for nothing. Feel free to have a seat.”
Yuuji then saw you sit your cup down and disappear into the kitchen. For a few moments, he sat in silence—or what seemed like it.
“You brat! Let me talk to her!”
Tired of his yelling, Yuuji gave control to Sukuna, trusting that you’d make him behave or else the student would suffer consequences from his teachers and probably all of Jujustu Society.
The King of Curses was able to take in his environment without being a passenger within the vessel. The way the room smelled was familiar and it reminded him so much of you. His eyes darted to the nearby mug you had been drinking from. Lazily picking it up, he sniffed it. It was chocolatey
then he proceeded to down the remaining contents before licking his lips. That was when you emerged from the next room. You had witnessed him setting the mug back down. Naturally, your eyebrows knitted together. Sukuna helping himself to your stuff was nothing new.
“Oh, Ryo. I was just making you a cup!” You scold him like an upset mother. Sukuna turned his head towards you, his mouth curling into a grin. He loved being annoying. To you—most of all. “What’s yours is mine.” He noticed that you were holding a tray. It had a fresh cup of hot cocoa and a bowl of
ice cream. In a moment, you were back on the couch next to him. It was nice to see you like this finally. You wore a sleeved white shirt that was appropriate for the weather, but it was low cut, showing off your cleavage. The shirt was cropped where it showed off your belly. As for your bottoms, you were wearing thick leggings that were tight enough to show your shapely body.
“Excuse me.” You handed him his mug of cocoa which he took. He had the entire thing in one gulp with no caution to the temperature. “Ah
HEY, GNAAR GET IN HERE!”
Gnaar came running in, tripping over his own hooves to heed Sukuna’s request.
“Don’t yell at him.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his obedience. It was only slightly but you had become giddy with excitement. Gnaar took the empty dishes to the kitchen. “God, I missed that little freak.” He watched the imp stumble into the next room. “He certainly hasn’t missed you.” You replied as you reached for the ice cream. It was Neapolitan.
“I have something I want to share with you.” Instinctively, you scooted over towards Sukuna. On the inside, Yuuji felt his heart skip a beat when your thigh touched Sukuna’s. It was hard for him to believe that Sukuna could have his heart rate quicken at your actions. 
“It doesn’t look like anything.” He faked a bored tone so that you’d continue. “It’s ice cream. Surely you’ve had it since this vessel has found you?”
His nose scrunched up. “No.” He replied flatly. Or maybe, he didn’t remember having it? He didn’t pay attention to the things Yuuji consumed so this would probably be his first time having modern ice cream.
“Then try some, Darling.”
Sukuna hadn’t even noticed how close you were to him now. He wasn’t used to the two of you being at eye level. The time you spent together was mostly you trying to navigate his large body. He missed the days when you’d climb onto his lap and he’d let you do whatever you wanted to him. But he liked this too. This was—normal.
Sukuna let you feed him the ice cream. It was only a spoonful but he already knew he liked it. It was cold but sweet. It sent a pleasant tingle to his cheeks that made him want to smile. He resisted this feeling, but couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. You patiently waited for his subtle expressions. You weren’t able to tell if he liked it or not.
“Did I tell you to stop?” 
You placed a hand on your cheek. “Aw, so Ryo does like ice cream. But you have to eat it slowly.” You gave Ryo another spoonful. He grew impatient, demanding he feed himself. Of course, he gave himself a brain freeze doing so.
“I tried to warn you.” You watched as Sukuna held his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered curses under his breath as he felt no relief and couldn’t bring himself to do anything else about it.
The bowl of ice cream was gone and simply a dish waiting to be taken away by Gnaar. Although, you grew concerned when it seemed like he wasn’t recovering from it. “Ryo~” Your arms snaked around his neck and you pulled his body towards you. Sukuna felt your lips press upon his temple and his cold headache magically disappeared. 
“Do that again.”
On instinct, you rolled your eyes. “Of course.”
You placed a kiss on his temple again. Another on his cheek and then on his jaw. He reveled in your kisses. They felt like heaven; a reward for simply existing because existing is exhausting.
He almost wanted to return the favor. You see, Ryomen Sukuna isn’t exactly the best at reciprocating any love that wasn’t a display of power. He was the best at killing things, pleasing during sex, and scaring any man who dares to breathe in your direction
but kissing, cuddling, holding
that was your thing. Ryo hasn’t even said those sacred three words. He hoped that you could feel how pure his love is for you or at least, him killing your evil ex-husband aided in conveying his feelings. He genuinely believed he didn’t deserve you but he was too selfish to ever part from you. 
Ryomen Sukuna wanted you all to himself. 
“There. You should feel better now.” Your lips curved into a smile that brought him peace. The same thing kept running through his head. Things are “normal” now. Sukuna despised being inside the body of a punk like Yuuji but it surely had its perks.
“Can I kiss you?”
Normally, he wouldn’t need to ask but you were confused. Your lover looked as if he were in a daze. Your watchful eyes could see every micro-expression on his face but he still managed to make things hard to understand since he was always sure of himself. You expected more of a Kiss me or a very commanding I deserve my reward for being your husband but you entertained him nonetheless. Is he asking for permission? You just had to tease him.
“Just a kiss? Knowing you, you’d probably want to take it a step further but I don’t know
you’re not exactly my type anymore.” You stifled a laugh by placing your fingertips over your mouth. There it was again. A reminder that he wasn’t in his own body or at his pull strength. But it was fine. He enjoyed it. 
He liked to know you preferred his true form when he thought about it. Sukuna felt so ugly in the Heian Era. Before you, the only things to satisfy him were wailing concubines and prostitutes who didn't enjoy his presence because of his huge body, four arms, and two mouths.
“What does it matter?!” He spat, behaving like a total tsundere at times. “That’s what you want anyway right?!” Oh, how he longed to be inside of you again. 
“Hm..” Your eyes rolled to the left as you pretended to think. “I’m not sure. Two fewer arms wouldn’t be as fun in bed.”
“I can still please you.” He quipped.
“I guess you’ll have to prove it to me
but not—“
You were silenced by Sukuna’s lips being pressed to yours. It wasn't his usual hungry kiss where it felt like he was trying to devour your face. It was sweet—no, innocent
desperate, like if he stopped, you’d disappear like a moment in time. Your belly filled with butterflies, making you put your hands on his chest to push him away, but he didn’t budge.
It wasn’t until Sukuna finally pulled away that you got a breath of air. Even he was slightly panting at his actions. You’ve never experienced such raw emotions from him
you kinda liked it.
“Why even ask if you’re just gonna do it huh, Ryo?” You smirked, making him even more flushed than he already was. “Shut up.” He grumbled before running a hand through his hair. What did you expect? The two of you have been sitting here this long. How long is he supposed to go without it?
On the inside, Yuuji expected you to scold Sukuna but he saw you smile instead. You didn’t seem to take offense to the King of Curses telling you to shut up. 
“I actually like it when you make the first move like that.” You scooted even closer and leaned your body against his. Whether you knew it or not, your chest was pressing up against his arm. “Do it again~!” 
You were literally peak woman.
So, of course, he gave into your temptation. He couldn’t resist your plush lips. Especially after getting a taste just now. It was an open mouth kiss. He practically shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could taste the lingering ice cream on his lips and tongue. 
Briefly, he would pull away just to nuzzle into your neck and take in your perfume. He was being romantic and he didn’t even realize it. It made you feel so wanted. Neither of you was able to fight the bottled-up feelings you had for each other.
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Hi! hope you liked this part. I’m already working on the next part. I’ll be working in more Lilith themes to help expand on your relationship with Sukuna and also an explanation for “Adam” in future parts :3
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airybcby · 1 year ago
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Lover’s Game
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a/n — on my haikyuu shit bc of the new movie, and who better to write for than the loml atsumu?
content — atsumu x fem! reader, fem bodied reader, set in the time skip, stripping game involved, it’s kinda like strip poker but with wins and losses, slight nsfw(stripping obvi),kinda suggestive, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything! not proofread
synopsis — when you started dating the MSBY Jackal’s very own atsumu miya in high school, you knew he was competitive, but when you beat him in smash bros? the game you two had agreed to already seemed like a bad idea.
✿.ïœĄ.“Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?”.ïœĄ.✿
“ HAHHHH??" ” your boyfriends scream rang out in your ears, seeing the tv filled with the victory pose of Princess Peach with the ‘1st place!’ placed next to her.
You’d never played smash bros before, having grown up as an only child who played sports most of the time, but beating your very kinda competitive boyfriend on your first time while playing the only character you knew?
Atsumu wouldn’t, no he couldn’t , have this. He had spent his whole life holding the “reigning super smash bros champion” title over Samu’s head, and he could not be beat by a newbie! especially because he didn’t want to be the first one to have to do the punishment the two of you had agreed on.
“ ‘yer cheatin’!!” the dyed blonde accused as he pointed a finger at you , cheeks puffed out like one of a child. “i am not! quit being a sore loser!”you yelled back at him- pointing back at him as well. “yeah huh!” “nuh uh!” “yeah—”
“just take your shirt off! we already agreed!”you huffed as atsumu shook his head. “you just said ‘some’ item of clothes! so
”the male took off his sock.
his. freaking. sock. you rolled your eyes before hitting the next button,“fine. shut up and grab your controller you bum.” you did love your boyfriend, but now that you’d tasted sweet victory? you never wanted to let go of it.
Round two went to atsumu
“hah! i’m the best!”he laughed as he watched you slowly take off your bra from under your shirt. maybe if he decided to be a horned up mess you’d win faster.
Round three - atsumu
off went your own sock while atsumu proclaimed you only had ‘beginners luck’
Round four - you
you watched as atsumu pulled his shirt off with one hand, your tongue sneaking out to wet your lips. “quit bein’ a perv you freak.” he teased, but how were you not supposed to look when your PRO VOLLEYBALL PLAYER boyfriend took off his shirt like he was in a porno?!
Round five - atsumu
fine. if atsumu wanted to continue to brag, you’d simply make sure his brain short circuited. you stared him straight in his amber eyes as you slipped off the thong you’d been wearing under your skirt.
Round six - you
“that’s not fair, you were teasin’ me!”atsumu accused, finger back in your face as he slid off his shorts. “you’re a bad loser, miya
”and woo weee if that didn’t get him riled up.
Round seven - atsumu
maybe calling your boyfriend the name by which he associated with his brother wasn’t the best idea. to you, he was “tsumu” or “atsumu” never was he “miya.” “since ya wanna be like that- you deserved to lose.” he said, nostrils flared as you took off your shirt- watching as his favorite part of you came spilling out into the open.
Round eight - stalemate.
no one got the chance to even select their new characters before atsumu was picking you up and throwing you on your shared bed. with the both of you only wearing one sock as he was covered only by his boxers and you only by a skirt.
“i’ll show you how much of a sore loser i can be, baby.”atsumu smirked against your lips before snaking his hand under your skirt.
maybe you should’ve started playing video games with atsumu much sooner.
✿.ïœĄ.“ it’s just a game but really, I'm bettin' on all three”.ïœĄ.✿
————————————
and that’s it for my fav guy everđŸ˜»
likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!
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isaacswhy · 1 year ago
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isaacwhy x gn!reader (sfw) 1.6k summary: moving to the new house was rough, and you had to stay in a hotel for a few days while the boys moved. once you were settled in, you realized just how much you loved it. requested?: no
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It brought you no joy to spend another night in the hotel. Of course, you were thankful that Isaac had paid for your nights staying there, but it was frustrating. You weren't able to sleep at home, with your boyfriend, like you usually were. But, you understood that he was just trying to keep you from going insane from how the other guys acted while they moved. It wasn't his first rodeo doing it.
No matter what, though, you still had to swipe your key card and drop your bag in the hotel as you always had. Isaac spent the first night with you, but had to stay the rest of the nights at the new house while they were moving in. The two of you learned the hard way that when Isaac wasn't around while the grown-up toddlers were moving their belongings, they'd be on the verge of burning the place down all the time.
At the very least, you got to call him. You took your shoes off, doing a quick switch into some pajama pants and walked over to your bed. That was the good part of the hotel, the phenomenal bedding. Isaac really shelled out for your comfort. You fished your phone from your pocket and opened Isaac's contact, pressing the little "FaceTime" button.
The line rang for a few seconds, allowing you to adjust how you looked in the camera before he picked up. Your image shrank into the corner as his face came into full view, beaming and bright. You couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw his big, toothy grin.
"Hi baby!" Isaac half-shouted as you watched him fall back on his bed, his curls spreading onto the blanket.
You waved to the camera. "Hi Isaac! How was the day today? Any good news for me?"
"Today was good!" Isaac sat up and looked down at the camera, "I should be able to have us fully settled by tomorrow. Hopefully, you can spend the night then."
You grinned a little bit at the prospect. You'd missed his strong arms wrapped around you. "That's great! I'll keep my phone on me and probably go out for a little shopping trip in the new city, so just give me a call whenever you think the place is ready."
"Sounds like a plan," He said, "I've been setting up our room, actually. Do you want to see now?"
"No, no, leave it a surprise for tomorrow night." With the house being a little bigger than the last one, somehow, the two of you were sharing a room and Isaac's setup would be in an office room connected to it. Although, you shared a room in the last house, but it was essentially just moving into Isaac's space and tossing your own clothes in his closet.
Things wrapped up easily that night, the two of you talking for a little too long until Isaac had to cut off the call. It was getting late, and he needed the energy for tomorrow. When you finally hung up, you tucked into bed, only Isaac filling your thoughts as you drifted off.
You awoke to the sunlight peering through the curtains the next morning. Grabbing your phone, you saw no news from Isaac and got up for the day.
It was pretty uneventful, other than picking up a few new pieces of clothes and a pair of shoes for Isaac. He was a bit of a nut about his shoe game, and you recognized the pair as one he'd been keeping his eye out for online. Luckily, they had a pair in his size. Shoe shopping for a man so tall was a nightmare sometimes.
You were just getting out of the line with your new items when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Grabbing it showed Isaac's contact and a phone call, so you picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hey! I was just letting you know it should be good to come down whenever," Isaac sounded a little out of breath, "Just finished unpacking the last of our stuff. Had to carry Tanner's desk into his room so he could set up his computer. Anyways, if you want to pack up your stuff in the hotel and come down, I'm ready for you!"
A big grin spread across your face. "That's amazing! I'll be headed down soon. Just finishing up a trip to the mall, but I'm gonna head to the hotel right away. I'll pack up my shit and get down to you in a minute, okay?"
"Okay! I love you!"
Your heart warmed a little bit. "I love you too, Isaac, bye."
You were practically sprinting back to the hotel. Once you got inside, you were glad not to have unpacked everything yet. The rest of your clothes and other personal belongings you had with you were packed up quickly into your bags. The car Isaac had rented for you waited for you in the parking garage, where you tossed your things in there. From there, you hit the road.
The drive wasn't too long, but they'd chosen a location far enough from downtown to give themselves privacy. You didn't mind the drive, though, since it was just building excitement to see your boyfriend for the first time in a few days.
You finally pulled into the driveway and walked up to the front door, using your key to get inside. The place was beautiful. Clean, more modern look but with a touch of the luxury that came with a house of this size and price. Of course, in a few weeks, it'd look more like a bomb went off in here. But for the time being, it looked great.
Nick poked his head out from the kitchen and waved at you. "Hey! You finally made it!"
You nodded and waved back, smiling. "Yeah! Isaac thought it'd be best if I wasn't in your guys' path of destruction while you all got moved in. Since I hadn't brought a lot to the last house, anyways, I'm just the last piece of the puzzle."
"That.. makes sense, actually," Nick laughed to himself, "Well, welcome home! ISAAC! GET DOWN HERE!"
You flinched a bit at Nick's sudden yelling, but you heard thundering footsteps as suddenly, your boyfriend ran down the stairs and towards you. You practically leapt into his arms, feeling him pick you up and spin you around.
"You're home!" Isaac was practically squealing into your shirt as he finally put you down, "Do you like it?"
When you saw him like this, he really looked like an oversized puppy. "I love it! The place looks so nice! For now.."
"I'll do my best to make sure they don't rip it to shreds like the last house.." Isaac nervously chuckled, "Come on! Let me show you the room!"
You took Isaac's oversized hand as you followed him up the stairs, leading you through a hallway or two before he opened a door. He led you inside, and you were met with beauty. It was simple, clean, and everything you liked. There was so much personality, the shelves and tables lined with little trinkets, figures, and other pieces of things that you both liked.
You walked over to one of the shelves, smirking. "Did you get me a Jujutsu Kaisen figure?"
"Only because I thought you were really into it," He said with a shy smile, "Did I get it right?"
You nodded and smiled. It was your favorite character from the show, after all. He'd been a good listener after forcing you to watch it with him. "You did, don't worry. This room is amazing, should we go get my bags?"
Isaac lit up a bit. "Oh, right! I'll go get them, maybe get Nick to grab one. You don't worry about any of that, stay here and get yourself acquainted! Look around!"
Before you could protest, he was out of the room and you heard his footsteps down the hallway. You decided to do as he suggested, looking through everything he had set up in your room. You tested out the bed, which was as soft and comforting as you'd loved.
You walked into the office room connected to the bedroom, smiling at his setup and looking over to see a second setup. Before you'd moved, you had another setup that decided to short out during the hot summer heat. When you needed to play something, you often just used Isaac's or bullied Nick when Isaac was busy.
But, there was a second setup, next to Isaac's. It was your favorite color, with some figures and little items from your favorite shows decorating the desk, and a beautiful keyboard and mouse. You approached it, running your hand over the keys and pressing a few. The sound was off the charts.
"You like it?"
You turned around and saw Isaac standing at the door, with a grin on his face. "It's perfect. Was this the real reason you didn't want me here when you were moving in? So you could build all of this?"
Isaac shrugged his shoulders. "Maaaybe."
You sighed and shook your head. "You didn't have to do all this for me," You said with a sigh, but you walked up to him and smiled, "Thank you."
"Of course I have to, I'm your boyfriend," Isaac's voice made you weak in the knees a little bit. When he spoke so softly as he pulled you into a tight hug, his voice warmed your body like nothing else could.
With Isaac's arms wrapped around you like they were, you were able to take in his scent and sit there in the peace in quiet. It felt like pure comfort to you. It felt like home.
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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year ago
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relationship hcs ; pure vanilla cookie
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requested by ; anonymous (31/05/23)
fandom(s) ; cookie run
fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific
character(s) ; pure vanilla cookie
outline ; “can you please do some pure vanilla relationship hcs please? thx (btw: i hope you have a nice break)”
warning(s) ; none, just fluff!
pure vanilla cookie is a complete and utter gentleman in how he treats the people around him, but especially you as his spouse — starting from how he took his time to traditionally court and woo you before the two of you became an ‘official’ couple, and ending with him treating you as nothing short of royalty as you two settle more and more into your relationship
he rarely ever calls you by your formal name and rotates through a small selection of sweet pet names whenever he’s talking to or about you — including, but not limited to: ‘(my) beloved’, ‘(my) angel’, ‘(my) darling’, ‘dearest’, and ‘sweetheart’
he’s naturally a very giving person and will happily indulge in every single expression of love he knows of just to make sure you have no room left to doubt his feelings for you
acts of service — when it comes to taking care of you, status be damned pure vanilla cookie will do just about anything it takes to make your day a little brighter. this can mean all sorts of things, such as: going out of his way to get up earlier and make you breakfast in bed, sending word out to local vendors in the kingdom to ensure that they always have your favourite things in stock when he knows you’re going to go out to the market, or making sure that you get spoiled rotten and properly celebrated for every birthday, anniversary, or achievement.
gift giving — being the ruler of a thriving kingdom and a talented magic user, it’s safe to say that pure vanilla cookie is more than capable and willing to shower you with all sorts of gifts. of course amongst these gifts are things that are more lavish and elaborate (whole wardrobes worth of new clothing in the style of his kingdom, organised banquets to celebrate important milestones, using his magic to organise unforgettable dates for you both, and so on) but most of the things he gifts you are more small and thoughtful in nature, as is to be expected of someone like him: trinkets and souvenirs from his travels, books he thinks you’ll like, accessories that reminded him of you, and anything he sees that he knows will make you smile (e.g. a type of item he knows you like to collect)
physical touch — though he does tend to stick to a socially appropriate level of pda with you, pure vanilla cookie is far from the type to shy away from physical affection with you. around others he usually sticks to a set few acts (hand holding, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand/your fingertips/your knuckles, kissing you chastely on the lips or temple, brushing any hair out of your face, and reassuringly stroking his hands up and down your arms), but in private he’s much more varied in his displays of affection: more passionate kisses, cuddling and hugging you, dancing with you at random, letting his arms rest around your hips or waist, kissing along your shoulders, neck and wrists, etc. (he’s just
 very touchy with you haha)
quality time — you’re his absolute favourite person to be around without question, whether you’re going out and having fun as a couple or just sitting together in silence doing your own things parallel to each other. every conversation, every date, every outing, every holiday, and every moment spent with you is something he treasures dearly and he does what he can to make sure that you’re as content and as comfortable in his presence as he is in yours.
words of affirmation — he’s the type of partner who tends to shower you with praise and attention whenever the opportunity arises. most of his affirmations are verbal (calling you beautiful/handsome as he presses a chaste kiss against your knuckles, earnestly congratulating you for every achievement and accolade you collect, softly and quietly reassuring you before you step out of your comfort zone, smiling as he recalls your strengths and talents to his oldest friends with more awe than he recalls those old stories from his adventuring days, etc.), but he’s also the type of sappy romantic to leave little love letters and notes around your shared space for you to find in his absence (e.g. a neatly folded note on your pillow telling you where he is, reaffirming his love for you, apologising for being absent, and promising to make it up to you at lunch time / or / a floating note on your vanity in his signature cursive that recalls a different positive affirmation every day that’s designed to make you smile, laugh, and relax for the day ahead)
though it’s easy to forget given how passive and pleasant he’s become in recent years, pure vanilla cookie is still a very capable magic wielder and, thus, is more than capable of protecting you should it come down to that — of course he’d much rather have the option to talk things out without having to shed blood, but if your safety is on the line then he’s not above returning to his roots and making damn sure the offending party knows to never try a stunt like this again
on the rare occasion that hollyberry cookie and the other ancients actually manage to get him tipsy (or, better yet, outright drunk), pure vanilla cookie will not stop talking about how amazing you are and how much he loves you — if nobody stops him or brings him somewhere quiet to rest and sober up, then there’s every chance that the ancients will spend the next few hours hearing about every little thing he adores about you until he finally passes out or golden cheese cookie goes and gets you so you can take your poor boyfriend home for the night
(the girls all think it’s absolutely adorable, dark cacao cookis is mostly neutral about the whole affair and just lets him rant, but golden cheese cookie and hollyberry cookie have both been known to tease him by reciting the sappiest things he’s said about you back to him when he’s sober again — usually something about your smile or the sound of your laughter)
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jeysbxtch · 27 days ago
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5. pretty little thing
(there’s a writing part at the bottom)
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you were out shopping for a few clothes for the upcoming raw and you were deciding in your head whether or not to take jey up on his offer to train together. you pulled out your phone and text the groupchat asking their opinion, they convinced you to text him so you took a deep breath before clicking on his contact name and sending him a message, “hey jey, i was wondering if you were up for training like you said before?” you add a line about it being okay if he can’t and within a minute you get a reply.
he said yes and is coming to pick you up, you quickly pay for the items you were holding and go to stand outside, waiting for him to pull up. your stomach was going crazy, you were so nervous and you couldn’t understand why. you had seen him before, you had just never spoken to him, you didn’t know he even knew you existed. your thoughts are disturbed as you hear a honk of a car, you turn to the side and see jey waiting for you. you smile and wave and jump in the passenger seat of the car.
you make small talk as you make ways to the gym, occasionally taking a good look at the god of a human infront of you. his chiseled jaw flexing as he chews his gum, the way his hand grips the steering wheel, everything about him is pure perfection. you had always had a crush on jey, even while you were in nxt and would watch raw, he just had something about him that you loved. he pulls up to the gym and you both make your way inside, starting off with a few squats and stretches to get you ready.
jey shows you some new moves, even helps you perfect a few submission moves. you were having so much fun training with him, the conversation was flowing smoothly and you would sneak a quick glance at him every time he grabbed a drink, how could you not? after a while you suggest a break and sit on the floor facing each other, he starts conversation about why you wanted to join wwe. you talk about your reasoning and about how proud you feel now that you are officially part of WWE. he shared stories of when he first started in the company, before you knew it, it was about 11pm and you needed to get an early ish night for a meeting you had in the morning.
you quickly gather your stuff and so does jey., “so how was this?” he asked you. you smile at him, “it was actually great. the time i spent with you was really fun, don’t think i’ve smiled this hard since i debuted” he laughs at your response and holds the door open for you as you both walk out. the air is chilly and you were definitely not dressed for it, the car was only a few steps away but each step felt like the wind was cutting your skin. jey had noticed your shivering, and before you knew it he had quickly swooped you in his arms and jogged to car, he opened the passenger door and placed you in the seat, you blushed slightly and said thank you. he winked and said, “can’t let a pretty thing like you freeze to death can i”
he shut your door and climbed into the drivers seat. you had given him your address and he put it in the sat nav. you were basically in foetus position in the passenger seat, still slightly cold even though the heating was on. the whole car ride was silent, just north of you listening to the radio, the thoughts of what to prepare for in the next show running through your mind. the thought of you running through jeys.
he pulled up at your place and hesitated a second before he finally said to you, “this may be too quick but do you wanna have dinner one day?” your eyes widened a little bit before you regained your posture and smiled slightly, “i would love to. id rather we kept that to ourselves if that’s okay?” he nodded and grabbed your hand and kissed it, “till next time ma”
you walked into your place and sat down on the sofa with the biggest grin on your face, you saw rheas reply to your tweet you had posted during the drive home. you opened up the groupchat and chuckled, you would tell them everything, normally. but this time you wanted this secret to be just yours. yours and jeys.
tag list:
@uceybluecy @yana3sworld @sweetdreampruneplaid
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bluecatwriter · 4 months ago
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38 
because they’re running out of time. Mina/Lucy
Thanks for the suggestion! This prompted me to work on a version of a fic that's been nebulously floating around in my head for a while. :)
(Send me a ship and a number and I'll write a kiss.)
(All kiss ficlets here)
A kiss because
 they're running out of time
[TW for cheating? I guess? It's complicated.]
Mina flew about the room like a hummingbird, throwing clothing and personal items into her suitcase as if the world would crumble if she didn't move quickly enough. Lucy watched her, feeling that she was stuck in slow motion. It would be best for her to stay out of the way, anyway; Mina didn't need her help.
They had both shed joyful tears upon receiving Sister Agatha's letter, forwarded from Mr. Hawkins. But too quickly the joy had turned to panic, since Mina determined that she would be able to take the next train out of Whitby only if she packed everything within forty-five minutes. Then she would be off, on a train then a boat then another train, racing across the continent to reach her Jonathan
 and Lucy would be alone.
She didn't know how to feel as she watched Mina flit about the room, trying to figure out how to pack everything she could into a single suitcase. For so long, Mina had been haunted by her fears about her fiancé, and now that she had a clear path to follow, she'd be off like an arrow. 
Mr. Hawkins says we are to be married as soon as possible, and I quite agree. The words, which Lucy had enthusiastically agreed with less than an hour ago, rang through her head like the bells tolling at sea. Of course that made sense, for Mina was done waiting. But this sudden turn of events had wrenched Lucy out of the course that she had charted in her head, and she felt suddenly, awfully adrift.
They were supposed to have to spent the rest of the summer in Whitby. Arthur was to visit tomorrow, and meet Mina, and the three of them would take walks in the sunshine and visit the cows again and have lunch at the restaurant overlooking the sea and the days would stretch long and
 and Mina would be here. This was supposed to be their summer, before they were both to be married. Lucy would have been married first, and then Mina later on, as they had originally planned. 
She didn't know why it felt like a cut to the heart that Mina would be married first. After all, Lucy herself was getting married, too. But she longed, with some small, and she thought selfish, part of her heart, that she were the one initiating the change between them. She would have enjoyed the carefreeness of their summer, and then gone to the altar knowing that it was her choice to move on. To have Mina suddenly fall between her fingers like sand— to race ahead to the next part of her life— felt like an abandonment. 
It was silly, she told herself, and yet the aching loneliness would not go away.
Mina abruptly paused, and stared down at her suitcase, her lips moving silently as she went through a checklist of everything she would need. Lucy found herself drifting toward her, stepping over random items cast aside in her fervor. 
"I think that is all I shall need," Mina said uncertainly, and clicked her suitcase shut. "I'm so sorry to leave this mess—"
"Don't be," Lucy said. "I'll clean it up and pack everything away so you can pick up everything else on your return."
"Thank you, dear one," Mina said, turning toward her with the smile that shone like a cozy fire amid the bitter cold of winter. "Thank you for everything." Her smile faltered. "I'm sorry that I must leave so soon."
Lucy reached out and took both her hands, turning her to face her. "I am just glad that Jonathan is safe." She felt a panic rising within, thinking to herself, This is the last time I shall hold her hands while she is Mina Murray. This is the last time I shall see her smile while she is Mina Murray. They would see each other again, and Mina would be changed— on to a new adventure, her heart bound up before God and man to another person— and this was for the best, it was all for the best, there was nothing to fret about, she must keep her chin up

Mina squeezed her hands, and began to slip their fingers apart, ready to turn away from her, to ride to the train station, to leave her behind—
This is the last time— the last time—
Lucy grabbed Mina's arm and kissed her.
They had kissed before many times, casually, carelessly, as young women were wont to do. This was nothing like that. This was a sudden, desperate fire leaping up inside her, threatening to consume her from the inside out. Her cheeks flamed with heat and she kept her eyes scrunched closed, tasting Mina's mouth in a way that she realized she had never admitted to herself that she had yearned for.
This is the last time I shall kiss her while she is Mina Murray.
They broke apart, and Lucy gasped as if coming up out of water. She was trembling, her hand clawed into Mina's arm, and she felt a wave of cold guilt wash over her. She herself couldn't even name what madness had come over her, but—
Mina cupped her face with one hand, and kissed her back. 
Lucy closed her eyes, the bright sunlight of the room orange behind her eyelids. Mina's mouth was firm, and unabashed, and so sweet that Lucy's eyes stung with tears.
They parted, and stared at each other with something like awe. Lucy could've kissed her again, on and on, forever and ever, but the moment had passed. Their time was up. 
Mina gave a short laugh, as if surprised, and Lucy scrubbed away the tears welling in her eyes and said, "Now, you must get going if you are to catch your train!"
"Yes," Mina said, and grabbed her suitcase. Lucy's hand slipped from her arm, and she almost wondered if the past few moments had been a dream. 
Mina was out the door, off to join her soon-to-be husband, vanishing like a shadow in the sunshine.
~~~
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deadhands69 · 4 months ago
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Hitching a Ride where are they now?
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The epilogue to Hitching a Ride
previous - this is the finale [series masterlist]
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After that night, the league of villains + y/n all decided to be roommates and share a large house to save money.
...too large of a house. For obvious reasons, no one had furniture (or really any belongings) so the space is empty and echoes constantly, but it feels like home. Everyone gets along relatively well given that you all shared a much smaller space and already know each other’s sleeping schedules and odd habits.
With the exception of Twice.
Twice wandered off on the beach that night, if you or someone you know has information of his whereabouts, please alert anyone but the authorities.
☰ Toga ☰
Toga is in high school now. She spends her free time working for Magne and chatting with her online significant other. While she talks about them nonstop, none of you are clear on if it’s the boy from the gas station, waitress at the diner, or some mysterious third option that eluded you all.
You’ll find out next week when they’re coming to visit.
☰ Magne ☰
Magne has adjusted very well to the area, finding your neighborhood to be incredibly welcoming in a way she’s happy to finally experience. She opened a boutique clothing store on a popular street. Business has been great, especially with the side project she’s been working on with Compress. Some may call it insurance fraud, but they just call it another Tuesday.
☰ Compress ☰
Old habits die hard and Compress is the perfect example of this. With a history in robbery, he’s upped his game to open an ebay store filled with items he acquired from big corporate chains. He is also the sole provider of furniture, kitchen gadgets, and basic necessities for the house. None of you question it.
☰ Spinner ☰
Spinner is also adjusting well to a more consistent life. He took up parkour and badminton in his spare time. Somehow, he managed to get approved to be a Lyft driver. Surprising you all, his abilities are perfectly suited for rideshare driving.
☰ y/n ☰
y/n had a chance to stop and reevaluate life goals. You're now working to have your dream job, whether it be going to school, starting a business, or just applying to places nonstop.
It’s going well.
You now have a normal amount of socks and underwear and you’re not entirely used to it yet. Your new boyfriend finds it hilarious.
☰ Tomura Shigaraki ☰
Tomura got an online job testing video games. He works whatever odd hours he feels like and spends the rest of his time playing League of Legends and hanging out with you. The two of you have settled into your new domestic lifestyle well.
Almost too well.
It’s a quiet afternoon with everyone else out of the house. You’re sitting on the couch reading with your legs resting over Tomura’s while he plays a game on his switch. Suddenly, he looks up.
“We haven’t actually gone on a date, have we?” he asks, mostly rhetorically.
“Not unless you count watching the lights in the desert together,” you smile at the memory.
“Hmm,” he considers, “that only kind of counts.” 
“Oh yeah?” 
“Yeah, we were in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like you could leave.”
“Well what are we going to do about that?”
You expect him to make a plan, ask you on some future date. Instead he jumps up, pulling you along with him. 
“Put on some real clothes, let’s go,” he says as you make your way to the bedroom.
A few minutes later, you’re out the door. Hand in hand, you stroll down the sidewalk smiling at each other. He glances down at his phone for the directions every once in a while. 
In spite of having spent so much time together, he seems a bit nervous. Barely speaking until the two of you arrive at the little tea shop he navigated to.
“Cute,” you say after picking up your order and taking a seat. He smirks.
“So,” he says, “I’m not sure if this is first date talk, but you want to be here with me, right? Like on a date?”
“Yeah,” you giggle, “why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s just that everything moved so fast. We picked you up off the side of the road and suddenly we're together. I never really had a chance to ask if this is how you wanted everything to go.”
“It is,” you say definitively, “is this what you want?”
“Absolutely, I’m not going anywhere.”
☰ Dabi/Touya Todoroki ☰
Dabi is working as a tattoo artist. You didn’t know he had the experience, but he’s really talented and after a quick certification process he’s been as busy with clients as someone who is new to the area can be. This job gives him time to practice with his new band, who’s music you’re all familiar with - they play in the garage nearly every evening.
Tomorrow night is their first show. 
Seeing you washing dishes at the sink, he wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on your shoulder. He stays here for a moment, taking in the warmth of you.
“Do you want to grab food before we head to the venue?” he murmurs in your ear. Of course you say yes, you’d love to. In the chaos of moving, everyone getting their jobs, and trying to rearrange a house with mismatched furniture being randomly dumped in the living room every few days the two of you hadn’t found the time to go on a real date yet. To be honest, you’ve been so busy with it all that you didn’t even notice until now. 
The next afternoon, you help them load the instruments and amps into the back of the church van before heading out.
“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dabi yells back at the rest of the band as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk to a close-by business street. He picks a cute cafe and the conversation flows so well he’s almost late for sound check.
That evening goes well enough that one of the larger bands they opened for asks them to join them on the first leg of their next tour. Of course Dabi asks you to join them, taking time off life to run their merch table.
You’re both excited to hit the road again.
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â†ș series masterlist - bnha masterlist
Thank you thank you thank you for reading this!! It was so much fun to write, I’m excited to write something in a similar format again in the future! -jade
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taglists: @kitkat13001 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @shigarakislaughter @idkidk32 @llawlietluv
@tomura-complex @cryptidfuckerofficial @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme
@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills
@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @xytraxpy
@venom-barf @frieren-imposter @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @thesecond2demonking
@shiiigaraki @thetinas21 @its-evee16
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aealzx · 2 years ago
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Working on Raph’s leg with Don was a fascination that left Leon grinning constantly behind his surgical mask. He’d seen so many videos, but those didn’t compare to the real thing. And with Don there almost all of the stress of the procedure was gone. Pushing back the muscle, clamping it in place, using saline to clean the wound and critically inspect it for residual debris. All the while Don was calmly talking him through the steps, letting Leon learn at the same time. It took hours to get the injury clean, stabilized, packed with antibiotics, and wrapped up, but Leon hardly noticed. Even the enthusiastic chatter beyond the curtain couldn’t distract him from Don’s directions.
“Aaaand we’re done,” Don’s concluding comment came as soon as Leon secured the final bandage wrapping in place. It was such a stark contrast from before to have the clean, beige colored bindings around Raph’s now straight leg, but Leon was mostly feeling like they hadn’t spent nearly enough time to fix that mess.
“Wait- really?” Leon asked, gaze snapping up to look at Don.
Don could only chuckle, having been incredibly impressed by Leon’s single minded focus the entire time. He was hardly surprised at the question now. “Yes- But! Let’s clean up everything else before we pull the curtain down. Okay?” he confirmed, reaching out a hand to block Leon from snatching the curtain excitedly, then gesturing to the bloodied mess of tools around them.
“O’oh
 Right,” Leon laughed weakly, the mess fully registering in his mind now as he looked around. It could have been a lot worse, but it would probably still be alarming for others to see. At least it didn’t take too long to clean up the area. The tools and other bloodied items were placed in a bin to take back to the sinks to be washed and sterilized. Then the areas that couldn’t be moved easily were wiped down with antiseptic soaked cloths, and their surgical coverings taken off. Only then did Don give Leon the go ahead to pull the curtain back.
Beaming with an excited smile, Leon poked his head around to look at the others. “Hey Raphie,” he beckoned, noting how April was dozing like a cat curled up around Raph’s head as he and Raphael were a little more quietly watching movies on a tablet Leo had fetched for them.
“Yeah?” Raph asked immediately, shifting his gaze over to Leon. He was exhausted, it was easy to tell. But Leon was expecting that considering none of them had really had proper sleep in the past day and more.
Flinging the curtain aside with a dramatic flair, keeping it held out of the way, Leon beamed proudly. “All done!” he chimed.
Raph took a moment to fully register what Leon was showing him, but then twitched into a half sit up with a small gasp. “Ohmigosh, Raph’s okay!” Raph hushed, sitting up fully and awkwardly jerking his still numb leg towards himself. “I hardly noticed. That’s amazing Leo!”
The movement roused April fully out of her dose, and she quickly oriented herself with a glance around before focusing on the bandages as well. “Woah! Heeeyy lookit that big guy!” April added to the cheers, wrapping her arms around Raph’s bicep and shaking him a little.
“Heheee,” Leon chuckled, rubbing his nose and basking in the praise. “Just be careful still. You still shouldn’t walk on it, so we’ll have to find some crutches for you. How are you feeling?”
“...Mostly just hungry now,” Raph admitted, giving a sheepish smile. His leg didn’t hurt, he couldn’t even feel it. And the medicine and IV fluids helped the fever and rest of his aches. Now he just needed to fill his empty stomach. And probably get some sleep. “And sleepy,” he added, ending up causing himself to yawn after voicing the feeling.
“That’s good. We’ll see about getting you to a bed, and get some food for you,” Leon chuckled, ignoring his own stomach protesting its gaping emptiness.
“Allow me to be of assistance with that.”
The new voice caused the three newest visitors to whip their heads towards the entrance of the infirmary where Leatherhead and Mikey were entering with trays full of food in various dishes. Leatherhead had been the one to speak, and definitely caught the teens’ attention.
“WOAH!” April blurted.
“Ohmigosh you’re STILL SO COOL!” Leon gushed, being kept in place only by politeness and his irritated knee. He remembered Leatherhead from when he first got there, but he hadn’t been able to appropriately address him then.
“Ohhhhh
. You’re bigger than Raph is,” Raph noted, a coo very similar to Lil Mikey’s leaving his mouth as his eyes also shined with awe.
Leatherhead could only chuckle in mildly confused embarrassment, not used to people being drawn to him favorably in any manner. Normally people were either scared of him, or aggressive towards him. It was a lovely change, even if he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“Sounds like we have perfect timing. Who’s ready for
 well I guess it’s breakfast now, huh?” Mikey chimed in, laughing at the kids’ antics towards their friend. They must not be used to seeing a crocodile mutant. “I was starting to get worried all my work was gonna go to waste. I had to warm it back up,” Mikey chuckled, pausing at an unmarked distance away from the surgery area. He’d been scolded too many times by Don for bringing food where surgery was done.
“You wanna get the kid this time, Leatherhead? I can take the food,” Raphael offered, getting to his feet to take the tray. He could easily lift Raph, but he still understood it would probably be more comfortable for him if someone the same size or bigger than him picked him up.
“It would be my pleasure,” Leatherhead agreed, letting Raphael take the tray before approaching the others and kneeling in front of them. “My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. Normally I assist Donatello with surgery, but as the role was already sufficiently fulfilled I didn’t want to crowd. My name is Leatherhead. Am I correct in assuming you two are also known as Raphael and Leonardo?”
“Pff- yeah, but, Leo is fine,” Leon huffed with a smile, mildly uncomfortable with the use of his full name. “Or Nardo as Donnie likes to say. Leon. Face man. Anything but my full name. I feel like I’m in trouble.”
The response ended up earning a snicker from Raphael, giving Leo a nudge as he brought up the rear with another tray of food. “There’s a welcome change,” he teased, earning a slight glare from Leo.
“Wait- did I hear that right? Face man?” Mikey asked, excitement bubbling under the surface.
“Well yeah. Who else would you put in the front but the one with the best looks,” Leon confirmed, framing his face with his hands and raising his chin with a dashing smile.
The flaunting earned snickers from April, and a fond smile from Raph. But Raphael let out a loud honk laugh as Leo’s expression scrunched in disoriented confusion. “Oh my gosh, it’s like Leo and I got spliced!” Mikey laughed, beaming from ear to ear. “I like this Leo. I like him a lot.”
As the others messed around a little, Leatherhead looked back to April to finish introductions before he moved Raph. “May I ask your name, little miss?”
Giving a chuckle at how polite Leatherhead was, April nodded, reaching her hand out for a handshake. “Sure. April O’Neil. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leatherhead.”
The response was mildly surprising, and Leatherhead chuckled as he gently took her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss O’Neil.”
“You’re remarkably well adjusted to
 all of this,” Leo admitted, rolling his head at everything since his hands were full.
“Well yeah, it’s pretty much normal for me,” April answered. “I’ve known these guys since I was eight, we grew up together. And things just kept getting crazier and crazier as we got older. Dimension hopping is probably up there with finding out we had a whole hidden city under New York. It’s just another place to go.” She gave a shrug, scooting out of the way as Leatherhead scooped Raph up after getting permission to do so from him while she had been talking to Leo.
“Oh
 I see,” Leo blinked, having so many answers to unasked questions in his head given. That explained a lot about all of their behavior. “Do they
 walk around on the surface then? Among people?”
“Uhhh no
 Not really. We still stick to non populated areas just in case. But if we do get caught we just pretend we’re going to a science convention and they’re all dressed up in cosplay,” April explained, trying to converse with Leo but inevitably getting distracted again. “Hang on, I gotta get pics of this too,” she excused, digging her phone out of her dress pocket and scooting off the table.
Unlike the last time he’d been picked up Raph had no fear of squishing the one carrying him, and therefore was much less tense. Leatherhead had scooped him up under his knees and back, and Raph could only tuck his hands close to his chest as a big smile squished his cheeks. It was a foreign feeling, but it was actually kind of nice. Just being slung around so gently. Moving somewhere without having to go there himself. It was bringing back faint memories of Splinter carrying him to bed a very long time ago, and he felt he could understand now why his little brothers loved to climb on him so much.
“Gosh, picked up twice in one day. You’re gonna get spoiled here Raph,” Leon laughed, squeezing in next to Raph to beam a smile at the camera as April took a picture of them. Looking down at the short she got, April had to coo a little at the adorable smile and tiny wave Raph had given her. He really was enjoying himself. “You can put him with Mikey,” Leon directed, guiding Leatherhead over to where Lil Mikey was drooling on the pillow.
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I rushed a lil on the last bits of the pic so I could get it up today X'D So excuse if there are missing details |D
This was my first time drawing a crocodile face, and Leatherhead ended up looking like a nice grandpa to me X'DD oh well, I wanted him to look softer.
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storiesbyjes2g · 12 days ago
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3.259 No more hiding
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I spent the past two days in shock, trying to wrap my head around being pregnant, and gave no thought to the timing of things. I woke up in the second trimester, and it lowkey devastated me. Of course, I knew the baby had to grow and what that would do to my body, but my mind wasn't there yet. I was still paranoid and concerned about our safety, locking doors and windows at night—still can't believe any of that even happened to me. Waking up with a huge belly was a gut punch. Life went on without me, and I needed to catch up and deal with it. I couldn't hide anymore and had to tell people, including my daughter, and that made me feel like going back to bed and never getting up. I wasn't ready and was still deep in denial, so I went to ThrifTea after breakfast to buy new clothes. Tomorrow will be the first day of fall, so I could start wearing baggy sweaters to hide as much as possible. I'd never been so body conscious in all my life. I wouldn't call myself an exhibitionist, but I had a great body I worked hard to maintain, and I didn't mind showing off from time to time. But now, all I wanted to do was hide myself from the world and disappear. Still, I was conscious of how my mood could affect the baby. Hell, he might be an alien and reading my thoughts. I rubbed my belly and said to my son, "I'm not ashamed of you. I just don't know how to explain you yet."
As I browsed the racks, I tried to stick to oversized hoodies and sweats, but they depressed me. I wasn't the best dresser, but my closet was full of skinny jeans, shirts with deep v-necks, and fashion tees. I couldn't throw away my sense of style even just for this short time. After all, the clothes wouldn't hide me anyway, so I got a few items that were more like me. When I got home, Sophia said she couldn't find Kooper. She looked all over the house and yard, all his favorite hiding spots, and even all the new potential hiding spots. Nothing. She wasn't dressed, so I knew she didn't go far outside and told her I'd walk around the neighborhood and look for him. I felt so self-conscious walking around with my stomach jutting out like I'd swallowed a whole watermelon. Hopefully, my oversized sweater vest did a decent enough job of shielding me from prying eyes. I called out for Kooper, but he never came. Did he seriously run away? The other day when he was out of pocket, was he really fussing at me? Maybe he felt the bad vibes in the house and went back to Gilbert Gardens. Did he feel neglected because I favored Rosie for jogs? It seemed like we always have so much going on in this family, so I guess it's possible we neglected him. Why would he leave us? I got on Social Bunny and asked everyone in the area to lookout for him and call if they saw him. I promise, when he returns, I'll be a better dog dad.
Desi was having a late breakfast when I came back, and it took everything I had not to slip away unseen and hide in my room for the rest of the day. She had to find out, eventually; may as well get it over with. I sat next to Sophia, trying to will the courage to open my mouth, but none came. Luckily, Desiree opened the door.
"You're getting so fat, Daddy."
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Sophia glanced at me, and I at her. We were both scared about how this would go. Me and Desi discussed having siblings once, and I basically told her she would be an only child forever. She seemed to appreciate that.
"I'm so sorry," Sophia whispered. "I have to go."
I checked the time, and sure enough, she was due at work soon.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asked, still whispering.
I would have loved to tag-team with her again, but I needed to handle this one on my own. Maybe talking it out with Desi will also help me accept this and spark some excitement.
I shook my head at her, and she patted me on the shoulder as she got up.
"Sit with me, Des. We need to talk."
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badnoahmens · 2 years ago
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I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 3
Noah Sebastian x Reader
Words: 4.8k
A/N: I’m sorry this took as long as it did. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out which direction I wanted to take this in. Still not 100% sure. Hope you enjoy it though!
Part 1
Part 2
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As soon as you arrive home, you rack your brain for any existing plans that may have been scheduled for the next day.
Work? 
 Nope.
And
 that was about it. You weren’t exactly the social butterfly you used to be. The anxiety around it and the pressure you would put on yourself ruined that. Luckily, the friends you had understood you and knew you well enough that they stuck around. You were forever thankful for that.
The thought crossed your mind, should you tell them about this date? You hadn’t even told them that you had met up with Noah again. You decide that it is best to not tell them, keep it to yourself for the meantime. Just so the information doesn’t get into the wrong hands.
By the time you finally crawled into bed, you had an outfit planned (you know the one, looks effortless but took forever to put together?), items packed in a bag, and an excited but nervous fluttering in your stomach. It may have been hard, but eventually, you were able to drift off into a sleep.
Anticipation woke you before your alarm rang, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to get out of bed yet, almost as though Noah would think you’re too excited for this date - even though he can’t even see you right now.
Your mind keeps going over and over the details of the day just past. The conversations, the eye-contact, the subtle gestures and body language shared between you two, just
 everything. You reminisce on the words you shared, memories both old and new, of family and friends from over the years. When he showed you his vulnerable side, talking about some of the personal details of his life, and when he would glance at you to see if you were listening, which you always were. Even right down to the details, like when he walked, he walked quickly, so you had to pick up your own pace just to keep up. That was, until he noticed this, so he started to consciously make the effort to walk a bit slower while with you.
When you rise from the warm cocoon of your bed, you start to fix yourself some breakfast and coffee, making sure to properly prepare yourself for the day. With that out of the way, it left you with nothing but just to wait. Wait until it was time to leave for a date.
A date.
With Noah.
Noah Sebastian.
Butterflies started to form in your stomach again, coming to the realization that today was actually happening. It wasn’t some dream or movie you had entered into. No. This was real life. This was your life.
The next hour was spent getting ready, changing outfits multiple times (again), and then nervously bouncing your leg as you sat and watched the time tick by, second by second.
It was agonizingly slow to sit there and just watch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be entertained in any other way. Your mind was hyper focused on one thing, and you really didn't want to be late for that.
It got to a time that you were satisfied with, and stood to leave, brushing off your clothes, and turning to walk out, closing the door behind you. As you near your car, one hand outstretched and on the car door handle, you felt something fall onto your shoulder, and then could feel the sickening warmth as the bird dropping started to settle into the fabric of your shirt.
“Are you KIDDING me!” you yell up at the sky, a bird flying away from you, taunting with its swoops up and down as it dances around the sky.
With a huff and a frustrated brisk walk back inside, you storm into your bedroom, frantically trying to find a new shirt to go with the outfit you had meticulously put together, but nothing seemed to be working. It was either too short, too long, too colorful, too wrong. Giving up, you yank on a plain shirt that was tossed in the corner earlier, and admitting defeat. You were already late, flustered, and now stressed beyond hell.
The door slams shut behind you as you rush to your car and finally slip into the driver's seat, angrily glaring at the sky again as you pull out and start to follow the directions to Noah’s accommodation.
When you arrive, parking spaces are harder to come by at this time of day. There were more people around now, and there was a traffic jam of cars all waiting and fighting to find a place to park. Almost as though it was sent from the heavens, a car pulls out right in front of you, which you gladly drive into, turning the car off with a sigh of relief.
The stress that had suddenly fallen upon you this morning acted as a distraction from your mind starting to wander again. It was almost peaceful until you remembered why you were here in the first place.
Before you get yourself thinking about it any more, you quickly get out of the car, shoving your phone and keys into your pockets, and start walking towards where you were meeting Noah for your date.
That word again. Date. It played on your mind a lot. Did he really mean a date, in the traditional sense? What did that even mean? It was really just two people meeting up, maybe to eat some food, or to go somewhere cool. You continued to downplay the events of what was happening or about to happen, that you hadn't realized that your feet had carried you right up to the location. You were busy admiring the space around you, a song of “it’’s aaallll good, this is just two people hanging out! Theres no need to get all worked up about this” that was interrupted when you hear your name being called out.
You hadn’t even seen Noah, sitting there against the small retaining wall that bordered the garden. One hand was in his pocket nonchalantly, the other waving gingerly in your direction. You couldn’t help but notice a toothy grin on his face. His black t-shirt fit him perfectly so it hugged his shoulders, but fell carelessly around his waist, which then met the top of his beige shorts. His ankles were crossed, with white crew socks peeking above the white sneakers he adorned. With his arms bare, the tattoos that decorated him were vibrant in the dappled sunlight, small shadows dancing as the tree that hung above him shifted slightly in the wind. The tattoos continued up his neck, framing his jaw with colors and illustrations that you haven't paid too close attention to before, contrasted with the block color of his outfit.
How did he look so effortlessly good? Like he just rolled into a pile of laundry and managed to pull this off?
His eyes gathered slightly at the side when his smile widened when you waved back, and he stood from his sitting position to walk towards you. To your surprise, he held his arms out, bringing you into an embrace when you finally neared him.
His hug was so warm, like he was radiating from the inside, his arms so long they could wrap around you twice over if he wanted. He gave a light squeeze, and you raised your bent arms to place your palms on his back, smiling into him as you did.
He pulls away, combing back his hair with his fingertips, grinning at you.
“Glad you’re here!” He sang, “now, if you’ll just follow me
” he trailed off, motioning his hand in the opposite direction in which you arrived. You started walking next to him, making small talk about the drive over and the fiasco with a bird dropping their shit on your shoulder. Noah had to hold onto himself, arms twisted around his torso just so that he didn’t split open from laughing too hard.
“They say that it’s a good omen right? Like, it’s a lucky thing to get shit on by a bird” Noah remarked after he composed himself, finally.
“Better buy a lottery ticket then” you scoff, grinning when Noah laughs again.
You walk for bit longer, noticing how Noah would gingerly point in certain directions when you had to turn a corner. Every now and then he would pause, look around, and then glance back over his shoulder.
“You know, if you told me where we were going, I could help with directions” you comment.
Noah’s eyebrows knit together slightly, pulling out his phone and checking the maps again.
“Or are you leading me to my death, and this is part of the plan?” Noah looks at you after you say this, slightly worried, but relaxes when he sees you’re joking. “You know, in case I get away. You need to make sure I don’t know where I am, right?” You continue.
Noah just smiles his big grin, showing off his teeth as he chuckles at the remark. “It’s not far, I promise”
“Ah. Another secretive response. So this IS my demise
” you retort. Noah simply looks at you and winks.
When you arrive at a building, the only decorations are the painted red walls, torn posters, and an open door with a staircase leading to another floor.
“This looks awfully murder-y” you comment. Noah laughs again, but starts walking up the stairs.
Despite what you have been taught your whole life, you follow him into the mysterious building. There was a strange sense of security around him, that he would protect you.
The higher up the stairs you go, the more you could hear a murmur of a crowd. It was a dark room that you entered into, a crowd was seated in pairs with small tables between them, all facing a stage with red curtains tied to either side. Noah spoke to a server, flashing his phone which was scanned, and then he continued into the room. You followed him, taking a seat in the chair next to him. A cheap battery-powered candle flickered on the small table between you two, emitting the glow that quietly danced on Noah and your arms.
“So you haven’t brought me here to murder me, but to witness one?” You tease.
He looks at you quizzically, “have you never been to a comedy show before?”
You mouthed an “Ohhhhh” to Noah, the realization of the setting finally kicking in. The lights dimmed just as you were looking around, the whole scene making a lot more sense now. A voice chartered through the speakers asking for the crowd to find their seats as the show is about to begin.
It starts with a man, dressed as casual as can be with a hoodie and black jeans, strolling onto the stage with a handheld microphone.
“Hello everyone, and thank you for coming today! We have a special time planned ahead for you, so I ask that you do your best to enjoy the show.” The host introduced the first comedian, who when he walked on stage, looked no more than 18 years old. Their content was good, targeting the stereotypical teenager and the tropes of being introduced to adulthood. He told a story of how he moved out of home
 and then back in
 and then back out
. And then back in again. He spoke about his family, who seemed like characters themselves, recounting an embarrassing birthday story and performing a reenactment of the encounter when a bat showed but uninvited. He finished his set with a heartwarming yet entertaining story, of his family and how they actually ended up being a friends family, how he wasn’t related to them at all, and that they were the ones who took him in over and over again.
Noah seemed to enjoy this comedian, he laughed at his jokes, mumbled under his breath in agreeable to a few comments, and watched the man pour out his heart when talking about his experience.
It was distracting, how engaged Noah looked. You found it hard to take your eyes off him. You noticed the smallest details, just like how his front teeth were ever so slightly crooked. You could see the freckles that dotted his cheek, tangled with the short stubble that had started to poke through under his nose and down his jawline. His jawline and how it twitched when he would smile and laugh.
He picked up on it, seeming like a small wave of self-consciousness creeped in.
He shifted in his seat, readjusting his position and glanced your way. “Is there something wrong? Are you not enjoying the show?” He asked as the next comedian took the stage.
“This was a great idea” you whisper back through a smile. Your eyes move back to the lit stage as the next comedian spoke.
“I had this whole skit about coming on here today, and just having a normal-ass conversation with you all, but then I realized that’s literally why you came here, to get away from that” he chuckled to himself. “So instead, I’m just going to make fun of some of you.”
Oh no.
The comedian's eyes bounced between the seats,the audience echoing a nervous laugh. Without even muttering a word, the comedian makes the most intense eye contact you have ever seen with an elderly couple sitting front and center. His arm raises, slowly, as he points directly at them.
“You” he states clearly. The room erupts in laughter. “You will be my sacrifice tonight”.
The couple are doubled over, cupping their face in their hands and shaking their heads, a smile spread wide across their face.
“Yep. It’s happening.” The comedian nodded his head, still with a finger pointed at them.
He started by asking for their names, what they do for a living, about their family, and even squeezed in a joke about stealing their identity. It was pleasant and joyful, and then he asked a question in a more serious tone.
“What advice would you give to the couple at the back who look like they’re on their first date?” his hand was on his hip, fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern in the microphone he held in his other hand. His eyes then darted right to you, body not moving an inch but you knew he was starting to drag you into his act.
The elderly couple laughed again, and then linked their hands. Although it was dark, the silhouette of them looked like they gave each other a look of fondness and love.
“I mean, come on. How does anyone else get a love like this!” The comedian threw his hands up in surrender. “But really, what should these fresh-to-their-relationship-and-came-to-a-stand-up-show-so-they-didn’t-need-to-make-actual-conversation kids know?”
Another roar of cackles from the room. All you could muster is an embarrassed giggle, feeling the heat rise to your face as you tried your hardest not to look over at Noah. The energy he was giving off felt a lot more calm than you, and you wished you could just take that on. Your knee started to bounce lightly, the nerves from being in the spotlight were starting to make you feel on edge.
“I should stop picking in people, really. There will come a time in your life
” the comedian started, now turning and facing you and Noah. He took three careful steps towards you. “Where you will meet someone you think is very pretty.” He paused, letting the chatter of chuckles radiate throughout the room. You were now the one with your face in your hands, trying desperately to sink away into your chair and escape. What they could see, though, was the smile behind your fingers. Despite the torturous attention, you couldn’t deny it was still a laugh.
“I should really stop. That guy with the tattoos, yeah he looks like he could beat me up pretty easily.”
You glanced at Noah through tangled fingers. He
rubbed at his chin and narrowed his eyes, feinting a thoughtful look with a slow nod, before cracking the facade with a big grin. He waved his hand towards the comedian as if to shoo him away.
And it was with that, that the comedian thanked the crowd and left the stage.
There was only one more to grace the stage before the crowd, and although they were still funny, you couldn’t help but still feel the residual embarrassment from the previous act. It actually took you a moment to realize that the show was over when the lights started to gradually light the room.
You jumped ever so slightly from the pat you felt on your left. Two soft, open hand taps on your thigh from Noah.
“Shows over. Let’s go get some food.”
You nod in response, standing from your seat and following Noah back out of the room, down the stairs, and into the bright light of the day.
Your eyes took their time to adjust to the sunshine, completely forgetting that it was still well and truly the middle of the day. There was a place nearby that you were both heading towards, sitting down at a picnic table curbside under a bright yellow umbrella. Noah sat opposite you, eyebrows starting to knit together as he frowned at the large menu he held in his hands. After some musing, he settled on a burger. The idea of making a mess of yourself while trying to eat a burger embarrassed you, so you went with a wrap instead.
Using the online menu, your food was ordered in no time. You started up a new conversation with Noah, trying to avoid an awkward silence from creeping up.
“Do you see stand-up comics often?” you ask.
He thought for a moment. “I used to. Not much spare time now. I’d like to do it more often though.” You hummed in agreement. Noah looked like he was dwelling on a thought.
“I know this might seem like a bit much. But are you free tonight?”
“Tonight?” Is he serious? Not that you’re complaining

“There’s a band playing at a nearby bar tonight. We’re out of here and onto the next town tomorrow morning. There’s a few of us going, but I would really like it if you joined us.”
“A few of you are going? You don’t need an extra third wheel.” You joke, only to have the words play on your mind. Why couldn’t you be smooth with words? Like Noah? Sound all suave and effortless.
“It’s all the people you have met before. Plus, you won’t be third wheeling.” He paused. “I’d rather spend the time with you, honestly”. He glanced over his shoulder as though he was on the lookout and didn’t want to get caught, then leaned in closer to you. “I have spent way too long on a small bus with too many guys. They have become too comfortable around each other.” He paused. “It will be nice to have someone there that doesn’t think it’s normal to fart on each other.”
“Oh, but whatever do you mean?” You teased, placing a hand in your chest and raising your eyebrows feigning a surprised reaction, causing Noah to laugh with that wide grin, the kind that says the crinkles by his eyes.
“Are you sure, though?” You ask once the laughing subsides, a genuine tone to your voice. cautious, even.
Noah nods, looking into your eyes. There’s kindness there, sincerity behind them. “I’m absolutely sure”, he pauses. “I’d love to spend more time with you, seeing as we leave town tomorrow.”
Noah reached for the glass of water in front of him, sipping it slowly while you process his words.
He wants to spend more time with me? Is he crazy?
Despite the voice in your head, which always seemed to have a vendetta against you, you agree. What did you have to lose?
“I’d love to come. It sounds like it’ll be a great night”.
Noah’s face lights up. “Great! We’ll meet you there at 7.”
Noah continues on, telling you details about the plan for tonight, who is going, and where it’s at. You can feel a warmth radiating from him, his excitement and passion for music distracting you from any feelings of doubt.
You both continue to carry a light conversation and you start to pick up on the small mannerisms Noah does without even noticing. He likes to play with his hair; running his fingers through it, tugging at the strands on the back of his head when he is focusing, even ruffling it up and then smoothing it back down every once in a while.
You also notice his smile, and how he has many. There’s a lopsided one when he is trying to be patient and not speak out of turn. There’s also a goofy, toothy smile that shows when a laugh from his belly comes out. Then there’s a small, slight grin, turning up just in the corners. It’s this one that graces his features when he listens to you speak. He watches the way your mouth moves sometimes too fast to get the words out right, how you also play with your hair absentmindedly, and use your hands to gesture probably too much when retelling a story.
It’s this smile that almost looks like he is fawning over you. Like it didn’t matter what you were saying, he would listen. He would watch your eyes light up when talking about your passions. He would notice how your leg would stop bouncing when speaking about your closest family members. He saw the way you saw him watching you, and would immediately flush with the lightest shade of pink and you try to change the subject.
You had never felt this comfortable with anyone before, where you could be vulnerable without hesitation, and he would accept it wholeheartedly. Even after only knowing this man for mere weeks, it felt like decades.
There was an odd sensation that he felt the same, that he could also be himself around you. That after that first night you met, he saw something different in you. What that was exactly, you had no idea. But Noah knew something, and he was doing his damned best to find out more about you.
As the time ticked by, Noah and you had finished your food, and were walking back to where you had met hours before. Your car was still faithfully parked where you had left it. You neared it, slowly walking closer, but without realizing also slowing your pace. There was a twinge of sadness inside you, knowing that you were about to say goodbye to Noah.
“Thank you, again, for today” you say, kicking a rock with the toe of your boot. It skids off to the side, falling into a soft blanket of grass.
“Thank you for agreeing to come along,” Noah responds. When you look up at him, he is smiling sweetly at you. His hands were dug deep into his pockets as his long legs swung in front of the other, meandering along next to you.
“Tell me more about tonight. Who is the band you want to see?” you ask.
Noah looks off into the distance, squinting a little as he recalls the information. HIs hair jostles slightly. “They’re a band that I’ve listened to a bit. They’re funky, got a great groove, something maybe a little bit more chill than what I’ve been surrounded with lately,” he chuckles.
“They sound like a lot of fun,” you prompt Noah to continue.
“I hope so. We’re so close to the tour ending, it will be nice to let off some steam, watch someone else do all the hard work”.
“Is it hard?” you ask, pausing for a moment. “Doing what you do, I mean, it looks incredible. But there's just so much work behind the scenes, right?”
Noah smiles to himself again, almost like he was keeping a secret.
“There is so much work behind the scenes. The shows are just what people see.” Noah holds out one of his hands, counting on his fingers. “There's song writing, song production, crew management, performance management, lights and sound engineering, travel, merch designs and sales, graphic designs
 and that's just what I can think of off the top of my head
” Noah trails off, surely with a thousand thoughts running through his mind.
You look at him in awe, finally starting to appreciate the work ethic of this man. The drive that he had, the passion for what he does, and yet, not a single moment of hesitation or apathy about any of it.
Noah shared some more details about the night, and by the time he is finished listing off the people that you will meet there, you reach your car.
As you half from your pacing, Noah takes one extra, careful step, before turning and looking at you. His entire demeanour shifts, hands hiding in his pockets, shoulders slouched over slightly, as his eyes bounce between yours and your car behind you.
Did he seem nervous?
It was the first time he ever seemed shy, like he was doubting something he wanted to say.
“So I guess
 goodbye is in order?”
“I guess so”. You lean back in your car, showing him that you’re not exactly running away from this conversation.
He shifts closer to you, taking an arm and wrapping it over your shoulder, pulling you into a tight hug.
Your arms instinctually wrap around his, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt and the way that it falls over the muscles in his back. You absentmindedly trace your fingers up and down his spine, and you could have sworn you heard a low hum come from Noah.
After what felt like longer than a standard hug should last for, your grip around him loosens, and so does his. Saying goodbye to him felt worse than it actually was, despite knowing you would see him again in mere hours.
“I’ll see you real soon” he says, with a subtle wink. It wasn’t until you shifted to face your car, unlocking the door and sliding into the seat, that he began to turn and walk away.
You watched in the mirror as he gradually made his way back to his accommodation, frame growing smaller and smaller with each step he took.
When he finally rounded the corner and through the doors, you let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. There was a warmth inside you that you hadn’t felt before, something that made you smile a big stupid grin.
As you pull your car out from your parking spot, you are oblivious to the world around you, living in your own slice of paradise after the day that had been. So oblivious, that you didn’t see the car driving right into the side of you, deafened by the sound of metal crashing into metal.
Part 4
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