#I literally got five minutes in and had to turn them off it’s like a bad POV fanfic but come to life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 4 months ago

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trolley problem

in which fem!reader has been gambling with her life and spencer reid is more than a little concerned

flangst, hurt/comfort warnings/tags: passive suicidal ideation from reader, she keeps risking her life, that really grinds Spencer’s gears, established relationship, existential dread, existential euphoria, lots of stuff about grief and death and self worth, not advocating for this, pretension from the author, blasphemy probably?, reader gets fuzzy from prescribed painkillers, arguing, hospital stuff, mention of sleep paralysis involving spiders, reader gets shot but she’s fineee, I pander to intro to philosophy takers, bau!reader, neurodivergent coded reader, if she’s not exactly like you I’m sorry, bean soup a/n: one day you’re in a writing slump literally the next you are in your notes app for six hours writing whatever the fuck this is but I think I love it even tho it’s weird and I hope u like it too!! btw this was gonna be called cotard's syndrome but then I never once talk abt cotard's but if u care that might be interesting context for the motif of not feeling human/alive, WC 3K

Spencer hasn’t spoken to you since the doctor left the room five minutes ago.

The air is antiseptic as you take it deep into the hollows of your lungs and trap it there for a moment, trying to optimize oxygen intake without actually having to breathe very often. Hospital smell is as universal as it is suffocating. It reeks of everything but death—flowers, blood, bleach, vomit. A humiliating, desperate scramble to defy the very thing that defines mortality. It’s pathetic. It reminds you of the worst instances of failure and loss and denial in your life. It curdles your blood. Literally rots you from the inside out.

You’ve had ample time to ponder that smell over the last few months because you keep ending up here, and some time ago you decided the institution of the hospital is inherently absurd. It’s stupid to think you could avoid the one absolute condition on your corporeal form: impermanence. It is the only thing that is promised, and people still waste their lives away running from it. It is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

So around the time you acknowledged that hospitals are simply monuments to the self-importance of man, you gave up on trying too hard to preserve yourself. You’ve seen death too much and too often. You’ve tried staving it off with prayer and the miracles of modern medicine, and it never matters in the end because it’s all magical thinking anyway. All the wallowing and the bargaining and pleading never got you anywhere.

You’ve accepted that from the moment you were born, you were marked for death.

But you’re not a complete nihilist. You’re not even totally resigned to the abject certainty of death—because you’ve found a loophole.

Everyone has as many chances at escaping death as other people are willing to offer them at the cost of their own lives. Not many people are willing to make that trade—someone else’s life for their own—but you’ve decided you are. Because if not you, then who?

It’s not that you don’t see the value in your own life, as Spencer keeps making it sound. It’s just the opposite. You understand that you’ve got an extremely valuable resource, and you don’t just have to sit on it. There are things you can do. Choices you can make. Ways to defy death.

Just… not yours.

Or maybe you’re just in deep denial.

Either way—this is a philosophy your boyfriend intentionally refuses to understand. He gets mad, or some kind of upset, every time you try to explain it. Usually he ends up leaving the room close to tears. You never feel good about it.

Right now he’s presumably trying to give you the silent treatment and not doing a very good job.

“Stop holding your breath. Why are you—stop that.”

Spencer’s frowning, skin sallow and milk-blue under fluorescent lighting. Purple seeps from around his eyes like spilled wine on a white table cloth. Your stomach turns.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t tell you not to apologize. You don’t expect him to.

“Why are you doing that? Does something hurt?”

Other than your entire bicep being on fire due to the 9 millimeter Luger it recently came into contact with?

“Not really. I just don’t like the smell of hospitals.”

At that, he gets stony again. Like, Medusa stony. You feel a tightening in your chest that has nothing to do with a lack of air. His arms are crossed. A silk lined blazer drapes over your lap, and you wonder if he’s cold in just that white button up. It’s translucent in this light, like onion skin, or maybe something less organic—the folds and wrinkles look like fabric, but lots of things look like something they aren’t. In the Pietá, Jesus lounges dead on his mother’s lap, his cheek pressed to her arm like either of them have warm flesh, and her skirts drape from her knees and fall to the ground in delicate folds just like Spencer’s jacket and looking at pictures of it you swear you could find comfort there too—but if you wanted to make space for yourself next to Jesus you’d have to do it with a chisel and mallet. You’re starting to think that’s what it’s going to take with Spencer, as well.

“So stop walking into active gunfire. You’ll spend a lot less time here.”

Every deep sigh (of which there have been several) calcifies you further. Ironically, you never feel less alive than you do in a hospital.

“I didn’t walk into active g—”

“I’m not debating it with you. It’s not a discussion.”

“So you’re just going to be pissed at me for the rest of forever? I mean, if it’s not a discussion—what are you gonna do? Break up with me?”

You feel yourself dripping poison in the well. Even as you say it. As his head tilts toward you slowly and intently from his spot against the wall, and his warning gaze is cold and unforgiving and weighs 3.35 tons.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Talk?”

“Don’t try and manipulate me by implying that there are no options between permissiveness and dumping you!”

“I’m not manipulating you. And I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

The first part is an incredulous scoff as well as a blatant lie. You are manipulating him. Chisel and all. At least, you were trying to. It clearly doesn’t work very well. His jaw clenches.

“Is this worth it to you? Fighting with me like we’re children solely so you don’t have to take accountability?”

“Accountability for what? I made a choice. I don’t regret it. You’re upset because I did my job.”

A beat.

Silence always makes you feel the gravity of your words.

“Do you believe that?”

His voice softens so much, so quickly, it splinters down the middle.

You’ve never been known for your light touch. For someone who sees eviscerated bodies nearly every day, and prides herself on her evolved understanding of mortality, you often forget other people are not, in fact, impenetrable marble—they are flesh and blood and bone, and you’ve splattered yourself in the evidence of that.

“What?” You murmur. You easily turn timid, when you’re afraid you’ve been too heavy-handed. Spencer’s seen you sob over the birds who hit the windowpane and never reappeared from the shrubbery—their delicate wings, their little beaks—he didn’t mean to, Spencer, and now he’s dead! He’s seen you spend forty minutes catching a spider with a cup and an envelope rather than smush it, even though you have reoccurring episodes of sleep paralysis wherein a giant arachnid is sitting on your chest, hissing and clacking its pincers. He knows you are, at your core, kind and good.

It’s a little scary for someone to know that about you. It’s a little scary when you see your own vulnerability reflected in their eyes and the way they speak to you, the way you see it in him now.

“Do you believe that the choices you make regarding your safety don’t concern me at all?”

“They’re… my choices to make,” you whisper, but you’re less sure than you were a minute ago.

“I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about how it feels like you are trying to kill yourself every time we’re in the field.” His voice shakes. You swallow. “You have been hospitalized for four serious injuries sustained on the job in the past five months. Every time I bring it up, you—you talk about life like it’s optional for you. Like you’re not only willing to give it up but are actively looking to throw yourself in harm’s way every chance you get. You think that doesn’t terrify me?”

There’s a small chip in the paint on the wall next to him roughly the shape of Africa.

“It’s not like that. I’m… I’m just having an unlucky streak.”

He snaps.

“Luck isn’t going to get between you and a bullet. Ever.”

“It’s my job, Spencer.”

“No. It is a risk of the job. Not a defining feature or requirement. But you keep running toward gunfire like you have a quota to meet.”

“Spencer, I’m not doing it at you. I’m not trying to get myself hurt.”

“Well it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to avoid it, either,” he shoots back immediately, and you feel the anguish radiating from him until it lodges in your own chest, like it was always yours. Maybe it was.

You want to make it better, but you don’t know how, and even if you did, he’s pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward the door.

“Where are you going?” You call, a little too desperately for your liking.

“You need to eat something.”

Which translates roughly to he’s pissed and upset and he needs to leave the room. You’ve done this song and dance before.

However, food and an absence of him are contenders for the absolute last two things you want right now.

“Spencer, please don’t—”

But the door is already whooshing closed.

You stare at the grey and white checkered floor. Light bounces off the waxen reflection—some sort of parallel universe you can’t reach, perhaps. The whole room is desaturated. A mechanical humming threatens to drive you insane. It doesn’t feel like a place for living humans. You’re not convinced you are one.

When he comes back, maybe ten minutes later, nothing’s moved at all. In fact you’re not even sure you’ve been breathing.

The door closes as quietly as it opens.

This time, wordlessly, Spencer comes to you. You see his shoes first—his serious adult shoes. You wish he was wearing his Converse.

Then you see the bottle of apple juice he’s cracking open for you. Blue lid. Same kind you always get.

“You didn’t bring food.”

“You wouldn’t have eaten it.”

Fair enough.

You take the bottle with your good arm and sip shallowly—all that adrenaline and the subsequent interpersonal strife has left you nauseous. The drink is too sweet. It clashes with the tang of metal in your mouth.

Still, you drink enough to satisfy him, and then you’re tossing his jacket aside before balancing the bottle between your thighs so you can screw the lid back on. He doesn’t go back to the couch or his spot on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t pull away when you lean into him, but it does take him a moment to reciprocate. You’re still grateful all the same when he cradles the back of your head to his stomach like you’re made of porcelain.

“I don’t think you understand how upset I am,” he says quietly.

Only Spencer Reid could be furious with you and still hold you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“That’s not good enough. You need to stop risking your life like that.”

He doesn’t get it. Your brows flutter as they try to furrow but even holding that expression saps you. Maybe the pain meds are finally kicking in.

“I just wanna help people.”

“That doesn’t explain to me or justify your urge to do it at the cost of your own life. We all want to help people, angel. The whole team. That’s why we do what we do. But we don’t run into shootouts. We don’t split off and provoke people with guns when we’re unarmed and unprepared.”

“But it worked. She got away.” You feel a spark of fulfillment at the memory of Gloria Sanchez in JJ’s arms just before the ambulance doors had slammed you into your first cage of the night.

“We don’t know if he was going to kill her. He might not’ve fired at all if you didn’t go running toward him. That wasn’t strategic, it was reckless and irresponsible and you know that. I know you do. So something else is going on.”

The pressure in your nose that usually precipitates tears comes as a surprise.

“I just—if that’s how I can save someone, why shouldn’t I, you know? Why do they have less of a right to live than I do just because they’ve been deprived of the choice? If I have a choice, and they don’t, I should choose to… to help them. That’s my job.”

For a long moment, you listen to your own breath, muffled by Spencer’s shirt, and the mechanical humming, and something dripping, and the low, buzzy chatter of nurses far down the hallway.

When Spencer next speaks you get the sense he’s holding a lot back. His voice is taut enough it wavers slightly. Taut enough that if he weren’t speaking so quietly he might be yelling. It’s like pinpricks all over your body—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

And yes, in theory, you do. But that doesn’t negate your original point. It only takes one life or death moment for you to utilize the most valuable resource you have. What happens after is no longer your concern.

“On the psych evals you helped develop it asks if you think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the one to save the many. The answer is supposed to be no. If you say yes you get flagged. The FBI frowns upon… lever-pullers. And that’s exactly what I’m doing if I let one person die when I could’ve potentially saved them.”

“Protecting your own life is not pulling the lever. What you’re doing isn’t smart or morally righteous. You’re just throwing yourself across the tracks, too. If you were to fail a psych eval right now it would be because you’re passively suicidal. And you know what? The FBI also tends to frown upon self-immolative delusions of grandeur and girls who like to play sacrificial lamb.”

“’M not a… sacrificial lamb…”

“No,” Spencer agrees quietly, stroking your hair. “You’re not.”

And you can’t react to the fragility in his voice, or the content of his words, and the fact that when he says it he means something different—you can’t do anything about it. You can only catalogue it. You can only know that he loves you, and feel a little guilty about it.

Some time passes. You don’t know how long he remains standing so you can doze against him. He does not smell like the hospital. He’s the antidote for whatever grief they distill from widows and orphans before aerosolizing it through the whole place.

“Baby?” He asks eventually. You know the lilt of it. He’s been thinking.

“Hm?”

He hesitates.

“Can we talk about you maybe taking some time off of work?”

“You heard the boss,” you mumble. “I can’t come in for at least a week.”

“I mean beyond that.”

You intend to respond, but by the time you open your mouth you’ve lost the prompt in all the brain fog.

“You’re so comfy,” you murmur dreamily. “Thank you for being mad at me.”

If he responds, you miss it.

You’re imagining the bed waiting for you at home, once the doctor is done observing you—warm, neatly made. Blankets woven with soft fibers. A mattress that will sink under your weight. You think of Spencer, who’s shaping himself to you, Spencer, who intentionally inhales when you exhale at night to make room for the rise and fall of your chest against his. You think of the imprint of his buttons on your cheek. You are both flesh and blood and bone.

Strange, pill-induced half dreams and visions and memories take over. You’re in that alleyway again. That man fires. You don’t blink or scream or feel.

Just before the bullet makes contact you’re standing in front of the Pietá. It’s massive. Spencer is there, too, holding your hand.

You can’t actually see him, only, you know he’s there. You feel his warmth, his presence, when he leans over to whisper in your ear. The way you know him goes beyond sight.

The Pietá—meaning the pity, in English—is 6’7” and six feet wide. It weighs 6,700 pounds. Michelangelo had to quarry the block of marble himself. He was only 25 when he finished. The Basilica keeps it behind bulletproof glass.

Jesus and Mary behind bullet proof glass.

God. Who’d try to kill Jesus a third time? He’s already dead.

Besides—they’re both made of stone. Bullets would probably just ping right off of them. Or maybe they’d shatter just like you did.

Probably not though. You’re not actually made of marble. You’ve no idea what it feels like to be a statue and get shot at. You sure know how it feels as a human, though—and it feels like shit. You don’t really know why you keep doing it. None of your reasons are good enough for Spencer, and he’s, generally speaking, pretty smart about some things.

Maybe you’re tired of being human.

Maybe you’re tired of sleeping on your arm funny and waking up to a hand in your bed that doesn’t feel like yours and remembering all the hands you’ve held moments before they couldn’t hold yours back. Or tired of those moments where you are being held and it’s so unbelievably perfect and then someone has to let go, or when someone you love hugs you goodbye and you realize that there will always be a final I love you, or simply getting older and watching potential life paths fall away like rotten fruit to the ground. Maybe life is sometimes so good it hurts and you can’t bear it. So you tempt fate. You walk a tightrope because even if you fall and it can’t ever feel good again—at least it can’t hurt either. At least you won’t lose anymore.

And yet.

It does feel good, sometimes. Sort of often, actually. Even when it’s awful.

Dead Jesus and Mary, with their marble skin and their bulletproof glass and their holiness and their virginity and all the other things they have that you don’t. Nobody can hurt them anymore. Not ever.

Maybe that’s something you envy.

But you doubt they’ve ever been so terribly, wonderfully alive as you’ve been, or as comfortable as you are like this, leaning into Spencer’s warmth and his softness, in the hospital, or the Vatican, or your dreams. Your bicep was ruined but it’s healing. You are capable of ruin and rebirth in the same lifetime. In the same day, in the same hour.

You doubt that in 520 years, behind bulletproof glass and unyielding, eternally flawless skin, they’ve ever felt as invincible as you do now.

You doubt they ever could.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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iid-smile · 6 months ago

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gojo would...

if you were dating them...

turn off infinity whenever you're around. he does risk it in public so he can hold your hand, but he remains very aware of his surroundings. if you're running up to him to surprise him with a hug, just at the last second he notices and quickly turns it off. pretends to be surprised because you look too cute thinking you got him. he does like to mess with you using infinity as well, and leave you waiting for ages just so you can touch him. you'd be there for five minutes, and still not even close to him, and he'd be so giddy about it.

break the sound barrier when hanging up. even when you ask him not to, even when you're on the brink of falling asleep, even when you're in public, he'll scream his heart out. everyone within a two meter radius can hear him through your phone and that is beyond embarrassing. please cut him off before he gets to finish saying "i love you", because he's not going to stop even after saying that. even when you're in the same place, but different rooms, he'd scream, then enter the room you're in so casually as if nothing happened, not even mentioning what happened just under a minute ago. why is he so serious about it?

paint his nails with you. there's no way gojo hasn't had his nails painted at least once. i think the first time you'd ask him to do yours, he'd purposely make it look bad, but the next few times all of his focus is going into it. you'd both do surprise designs <3 gojo always does blue to match his eyes, or pink, just because. would actually invest money into getting better quality polish, cuticle equipment and charms. now, his nails are always painted, whether that be a design, or just plain clear gel polish.

bring you different sweet treats from the prefectures he visits. then you'd see at least half of them are missing??? pretends that he didn't eat them, but the evidence is written all over his face, and quite literally. he would never bring something too similar twice in a row, and adjusts to your taste preferences so he'd buy something perfect for you every time.

buy you anything you mention to him. his money knows no limits. complain that your shoes are getting worn out? there's a brand new pair at your doorstep, and maybe another pair you've been eyeing every time you enter the store. talk about getting into bullet journals or art? every single pen, pencil, paint, highlighters or anything known to man would show up all at once, and you have the freedom to pick and choose which brands you do or don't like. it's been three weeks since you got your nails done? he's sending you over 30k yen so you can get them redone, and you didn't even ask that time. it looks like he's not listening when you talk, but he is. may also send you money "randomly" if he knows you're going out to buy groceries or some new clothes.

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headkiss · 2 months ago

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it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

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Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

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thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader

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manicmanuscription · 3 days ago

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Selfishly Late

This is the the second part to unapologetically selfish!!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 1554

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, suggestive, possessive Azriel.

Summary: Azriel has you running a little late to your introduction with his family. But he just can't seem to keep his hands off you.

A/N: I have literally rewrote this piece like five fucking times no joke. It's still not perfect in my eyes and there's definitely going to be a part three but I needed to post this before I went insane.

Thank you all for your patience I love you <3

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics-archive

You took one last look in the mirror before scoffing.

Azriel had absolutely covered you in hickies. On any inch of skin he could reach, paying extra attention to your throat and collarbones. You gave him a pointed glare as he finished dressing behind you in the mirror but he was too busy fixing the cuff of his sleeves to notice. With a roll of your eyes you reached down for the scarf, draping it over your neck and brushing your hair back from underneath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Azriel asked, slightly appalled as you adjusted your scarf and hair to cover some of the more egregious bruises.

He crossed the room in a few strides before standing directly behind you as you sat at your vanity. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he pulled the scarf away from your neck gently and pinned your hair up with the jeweled metal hairpin he had gotten you last year as a birthday present, perfectly showing off the hickies.

“Azriel!” You exclaimed, turning in your seat to face him and his eyes gleamed at the yellowing dots decorating your bare skin. “I can not show up to your family’s house like this!”

His brows furrowed slightly, the only sign of confusion you’d read off the usually stoic male. “But you look so pretty like this my love.” He murmured, reaching down and brushed his fingertips against the tender skin, his breath tickling your ear as he pressed another biting kiss to the juncture of your throat.

Everyone told you once a mating bond snapped the males got unusually possessive, of course you believed them but Azriel was something on a whole different level. When you first met him he explained Illyrians were more territorial, all the instincts heightened. You couldn’t remember the exact sciences on it why but it made you feel so safe, loved and incredibly turned on.

You gave him an exasperated look through the mirror, one he promptly ignored. His hands curling tighter around your shoulders. This had been going on for years. Every attempt at an introduction was thwarted by Azriel’s skilled persuasive abilities and intoxicating touch.

You did your best to stay strong this time, trying to ignore the way your entire being electrified at his close proximity, sparks running along every expanse of skin he touched. Your toes curled and you let out a soft breathy moan. One that Azriel had still heard and a victorious smile graced his lips. He hid his face in your neck so you didn’t see it.

But you still did and it was enough to -barely- break you out of his spell. You stood up out of your chair and he rose to full height with you, towering over you slightly. “Azriel!” You reprimanded. “We are going to be late.”

“We’re already late, what’s an extra five minutes?” He smirked, his shadows swirling around his shoulders as if in agreement. You scoffed, letting out a few curses under your breath. He had been pulling this all morning.

You didn’t have to be a Spymaster to know Azriel was dragging his feet, first holding you tighter in bed so he could keep using your stomach as a pillow, spilling coffee on the outfit you’d picked out so you’d have to spend another 15 minutes trying to create a new one and now this hickey situation.

You knew the High Lord or Lady was yelling at him too if any of the occasional winces and rubbing his temples were anything to go by.

“I’m going to be making such a bad impression already!” You protested, holding your palm out for your clothing back. “Now give me my scarf so we can go please.”

Azriel just looked at the light brown fabric still wrapped in his hands as if it committed a grievous act against him. “You’re so obsessed with this scarf.”

You groaned, this time you were the one soothing your head with your fingertips. You knew he struggled when you were gone for long periods of time, both of your work schedules making it endlessly hard to actually have time to be husband and wife, mates, and life partners it drove you crazy too but you’d have to find a compromise because there was no way you were showing up to the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court’s estate covered in hickies.

You told him as much and he paused, finally noticing your nerves of the event. Years after missed dates and scheduling conflicts and getting distracted by Azriel’s sly touch was all coming to an end, you were finally meeting his family, it loomed over your head and nerves pumped violently through your bloodstream.

It was a bittersweet feeling and you just wanted everything to go well, Azriel wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing his family was. His love for them ran deep and if they somehow didn’t like you….

Azriel begrudgingly passed the scarf over, your comfortability and safety would always come first and he tamped down those raging instincts telling him to whisk you and mark you more thoroughly and reclaim you over and over again especially after your long time apart. He instead pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry love, we are completely mild compared to the crazy shit I’ve seen or heard my brother’s get into with their mates.” He shuddered and you laughed a little bit, pressing yourself closer to him so you could give him a quick hug and a soft peck to his lips, hearing a mumbled “Gods you’re killing me.” Before sitting back down at your vanity. He sent a wave of reassurance through the bond and you returned it. You've dined with High Lord’s before this would be fine, you were fine. It had to be fine.

“He’s not coming.” Mor said with finality. Looking over at the golden watch on Amren’s wrist. “I mean they were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” The ancient female pulled her hand away from the blonde sharply, giving her an even harsher look of disdain.

Cassian eyed the clock nervously and shot Mor a warning glare. It was incredibly important to him that this went well, you were a major part in his brother’s life and he wanted to not only make a good impression but also make sure you were good enough for Azriel, he recognized it as a silly thought you’d been mated for many years (unbeknownst to him) -and he’d definitely be having some words with Azriel about not being there for his mating ceremony later- but he wanted to make sure Azriel felt loved and cherished, taken care of with all the shit he’d already been through in his lifetime.

Rhysand just let out a soft sigh, swirling the orange juice in his glass, desperately wishing it was something stronger. He’d assumed his dear brother would be late based on his previous patterns and the little reunion they’d witnessed last night but not this late and he was giving the Spymaster five more minutes before he winnowed the entire family, and their dining table to his living room torches all ablaze and pitchforks raised.

Although he couldn’t help but let out a soft smile at the thought of the usual strict and punctual Shadowsinger was willing to abandon his rigid routine for someone.

“He’ll be here.” Feyre assured on her mate’s behalf, although her own confidence in him was waning, he did have a habit of simply not showing up when an introduction was planned.

“You’re sure the female you saw wasn’t an illusion or a paid actress or-?” Mor started but suddenly the lighting in the room dimmed, shadows moving briefly across the edges of the floorboards before the sunlight streamed through the windows once again. An unfamiliar female’s voice rang throughout the large house as she laughed and Cassian’s heart flooded with relief at the sound, anxiety simultaneously pumping in his chest, he wanted everything to go perfectly.

“-are absolutely ridiculous.” “Yeah, yeah.” The shadowsinger muttered, the leftover pieces of conversation barely reaching the Inner Circle’s ears.

Two sets of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, getting closer and closer to the dining room.

Mor whispered a shocked. “No way.” Another step. “No way.” Another step. “No way.”

She whispered it after every movement made until finally the couple came into view, standing in the open doorway and she couldn’t even make a sound, her mouth dropping at the sight of you.

There was a few stunned moments of silence.

The Inner Circle was staring at you as if you were a foreign creature and you shifted a little bit under their gaze, your mate had prepared you for an endless stream of questions but not the wide eyes and open mouths although you guess it was to be expected and Azriel tightened his hold on your shoulders protectively.

“Surely you have better manners than this?” He bit out a little harsher than originally meant after a few more uncomfortable moments of stillness.

You gave them a bright smile and a timid wave, breaking them out of their trance and all of a sudden they erupted with movement pulling you in for hugs and shaking your hands. Not so subtly inspecting you all the while bombarding you with questions.

This was going to be quite the breakfast.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel fic #inner circle #shenanigans

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wonderjanga · 24 days ago

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Competitive

Billy gets strangely competitive when it comes to sports and only sports. He can get thrashed in five different ways by five different people each in five different card or boardgames and he’s fine, but the moment he loses a darn frisbee game he’ll try to crash out. Point is, he’s strangely competitive.

Like the time the JL was playing Shirts vs. Skins football. Marvel was obviously on the shirts team because his costume doesn’t come off.

Supes: “I got it!” *catches the ball*

Marvel: *tackles him through a wall*

As the JL looked from the damaged wall to each other, and then back to the damaged wall, they just hear a loud “WHAT WARRANTED THAT??” from Clark.

Flash and Marvel: *playing air hockey*

Marvel: *getting frustrated that he can’t score a goal because Flash keeps blocking*

Flash: *getting slightly scared because Marvel keeps hitting it to him harder and harder*

Marvel: *hits it to Flash super hard*

Flash: *tries to block it but his little hand thingy breaks* “Dude!”

Marvel: *all he knows it that he scored* “Yay!”

Turns out Flash injured a few fingers during that so Billy immediately felt bad afterwords and made him a bunch of pies.

YJ and Marvel: *playing basketball*

Marvel: *dunking on these poor kids* “You guys might have to all work together at this point.”

YJ: *everyone on Marvel’s team defects to the other team*

Marvel: *gasps like he literally didn’t suggest they do that* “Wow! I didn’t know I had a bunch of traitors on my team.”

He continued to dunk on them. They even got to a point of using their powers to try and win. That didn’t work and he just got more disrespectful with the way he would score. It can be disheartening to watch to watch the kindest man you know, suddenly push your head down like your five just so he can throw a ball into a hoop.

He took them out for ice cream after.

Green Arrow(GA) and Marvel: *playing golf*

Marvel: *not even trying to score and is just knocking his ball away*

GA: *getting more mad as he does this*

They ended up doing this for about 10 minutes until Marvel accidentally got his ball to go into the hole. GA promptly left after saying, and Billy quotes, “Fuck this, and fuck you!”

They got burgers afterword.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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ceesimz · 1 month ago

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chasing a ghost

exactly what you run from, you end up chasing. (angst -> happy ending)

tw- mentions internalised homophobia. it's not intense, but the story is based around it. it has a happy ending though, of course!

Everyone always says your first love sticks with you throughout your whole life. And for you, those words were a haunting truth you could never shake.

No matter how far you went, no matter how many years passed. It still rung true. Your worst fear was that it always would.

The last ten years of your life had been all over the place– literally. After the breakup, you took a gap year, because the pain after it was that intense you felt you had no other option. So, you decided to travel the world with nothing but the bag on your back, looking for an answer to your life that made such a pain worth it– not knowing the thing you were chasing was the exact thing you were running from.

You started in Spain, in Barce- in the city where you fell in love. Though, you haven't returned since you left.

University was fun, you enjoyed it more than you thought you would. Even more so when you met the love of y- your first love. She was shy, at first. But you caught glimpses of her when she was with her friends in the study hall, when she’d come out of her shell and say something that would have them all laughing until they were shushed. When she would smile so brightly you swore the lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on her, or when she’d always wait behind for the last person in the group to tidy their stuff as the others raced off to wherever they were going next.

You studied her from afar for weeks, spending more time doing that than studying your actual course, but it paid off when you accidentally, not-so-accidentally, bumped into her one time as she rushed from one lecture hall to the other, and the… football under her arm went tumbling down the hallway.

A football? You remembered thinking then. Why would someone bring a football to their lecture?

“A football?” You scrunched your nose as you turned to watch the neon orange thing roll out of sight.

“Oh, s-sí. I know it is weird.” She chuckled nervously, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as her eyes darted all over your face, the football the last thing on her mind. “I have training after my next lecture. For football.”

“Well, I think you’re going to be late to your next lecture if you want to get your ball back.” You told her in amusement, hearing the commotion of a group of boys jeering over the sight of such a miraculous object appearing in front of them.

Alexia’s eyes went wide, jumping off her train of thought and back down onto solid ground, where the aforementioned group of people, that resembled entertained cavemen watching a fire or gorillas cheering at their next meal, still had her beloved ball.

“No! I need that back!” She ran ahead, before halting a moment later when she heard your laugh behind her. So she turned back around, jogged over to you, stumbling over the cartoon love hearts swirling around her mind as she tried to find the words to say, then giggled sheepishly at herself. “Sorry for running into you. I will hopefully see you around.”

“See you around.” You replied, though she was already chasing after her prized possession before you got a chance to say it. The feeling you got after hearing her say ‘hopefully’ was a little embarrassing, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

And fortunately for you, you did see her around, quite often actually to the point where you weren’t sure if it was actually a coincidence or not. At one point, it was like the two of you unknowingly formed a routine; you would finish your first lecture at 11:30am, walk as fast as you could over to the other building where your 12pm lecture was and wait for her to arrive for her 11:45 lecture. She would arrive five minutes before she had to go in, and you’d spend that time talking together, laughing, teasing, checking in with each other, until she had to leave. Even still, she would wait until the last second before she’d be classed as late to go in, just so she could talk to you.

Then, it progressed to meeting her for study sessions together in the library. One day, your friends on your course were somehow all off sick, and her friends were apparently not important to her when she knew you would be alone. So, without too much of a fuss, she quietly and nervously invited you to study with her, where you both spent the whole time trying to study but were actually just too excited about being together one-on-one with nobody else around to get anything done. No chaos of the corridor, no boys trying to take her football, no friends to tease you. The whole time, however, that damn football was there with you, positioned at her feet under the table as she messed with it throughout the duration of the session.

It was there that you realised studying and education wasn’t her best skill; she was smart, very smart, her mind just seemed a million miles away everytime. All too often you’d have to tell her to concentrate when she had spent too long looking out the window at the football pitch, or you’d quietly scold her for trying to do kick-ups in the library or whenever she tried to nutmeg you when you just wanted to get through the week’s reading assignment. She never cared for grades or essays or quizzes, all she wanted was to play football.

That meant it wasn’t such a surprise to you when, on a random day after the Christmas break, she rushed in to meet you at your infamous spot outside what should have been her 11:45 lecture and, when you told her off for how she was about to be late, she smiled a smug grin and shrugged you off. Then she told you she had dropped out of University like it was nothing, before spinning you around and demanding she walked you to your lecture. She didn’t give you time to scold her like you often did, because she tugged you out of the way of people in the corridor outside the door to your lecture and kissed you, for the first time, out of nowhere, only for her to pull away and kiss your cheek in goodbye as she gently ushered you towards the door.

You had to thank whatever god was up there that that particular lecture wasn’t too important because you don’t remember a thing about it. All you could think about throughout was the way she had pulled you in, wrapped her arms around your waist, and leaned down to kiss you with such tenderness yet such confidence that you weren’t sure you could ever be the same person again afterwards. For something so small, you felt it changed you, and though it might have been just a kiss, it opened a door for you to a version of yourself you didn’t know existed.

After that day, you walked around with your head held high, sometimes uncertain if you were walking or skipping since you felt that much joy. You couldn’t view the world around you as ordinary anymore, everything around you seemed more vivid, the smaller things felt more significant and the bigger things less important. That kiss was a spark that ignited something… profound; changing not just your relationship with her, but who you were as a person.

You were on cloud nine with her, the kind of happiness that felt never-ending and all-consuming. That reassured you, especially in moments where you two bickered or felt a little distant as she travelled for football. You were almost certain it’d go on forever.

Every glance, every touch, every word between you, they were all things you cherished. The relationship was something sacred, just for the two of you, and you could have sworn it made your heart soar far from your chest. More often than not, you felt invincible in her company. For the first time in your life, love wasn’t a distant daydream or a wish for the future, it was something real, something that was undeniably yours that no one could take from you. No one but yourself.

Your relationship with her grew and grew, until a year of stolen kisses in the private of your rooms, a year of pinkies linked under dinner tables whilst out with your friends, a year of being just friends to everyone else but the loves of your lives to each other, a year of complete and unconditional love passed without you realising.

“Ale, where the hell are you taking me?” You giggled, two cold hands covering your eyes as you were led somewhere by your silent girlfriend. Not that you could see, there was a huge grin on her face as she guided you to a place she had been desperate to take you ever since she met you.

“You will find out. Two more seconds, then you see.” It was all going smoothly until she led you a bit too far and you walked head first into… a gate? “Oops, lo siento, mi amor. I did not mean to, I couldn’t see how close we were, your head was in my way.”

“My head was in your way? You i- you’re the one covering my eyes! Pendeja.” You muttered, but then she lifted her hands off your face and you were met with… a football pitch. “Are you kidding me?”

“Happy one year anniversary.” Alexia smiled brightly, not at all phased by the unimpressed look on your face. “You are going to play football with me.”

“Am I really.” You scoffed, taking in the sight of the miserably grey sky and the aftermath of the morning’s rain in the form of a repulsively muddy field.

“You will. What’s that saying? Something… something about, ah, el sentido del humor?” She mumbled, waving one of her hands in the air like the wind would blow the words to her mind as she opened the gate with the other.

“You want me to humour you?” You turned back to her, desperately suppressing a smile at the way her eyes widened and she clapped her hands when you gave her the right turn of phrase.

“Eso mismo! It will be fun, come on.”

“It’s not even our one year yet, you’re early.” You crossed your arms over your chest in one last show of defiance, when as a matter of fact, you were convinced the minute you saw the excitement on her face.

“I know but it is a year since I kissed you and that’s what started everything.” The brunette girl shrugged, tucking her hands in the pockets of her joggers.

“I think what started everything was me bumping into you when you were running.” Her jaw dropped in a very comedic way then.

“So you did do it on purpose! I knew it!” She exclaimed, walking closer and jabbing an accusing finger into your chest. You stepped backwards and laughed as she shuffled yet closer, moving into your space and pulling you into her for a hug. It was only brief and when she leaned back, her arms still around you, she shook her head in disbelief at your past antics, before softening. “Well, I did think about that date too, but I had a game that day and you had an important presentation so… I decided to do it today.”

You smiled in spite of yourself and left a kiss on her chin.

“And you thought bringing me to play football on a muddy field in the middle of winter was a good idea?” She smirked and nodded, clearly confident in her abilities to convince you.

“I have always wanted you to play it with me but you always say no. But I think, since I was the one that kissed you in the beginning, you should do this for me.” You rolled your eyes and she grinned at you as you did so, her thumbs drawing circles where they’d slipped under your jumper on your hips. “I bought you boots and everything! Also a shirt with your name on it but my number, but it is too cold for that so I left it at home. And, if you do this with me, we can have a shower together after and I wash your hair and give you a massage.”

“I was going to agree anyway but sure, I’ll take that deal.” You told her a moment later after some faux consideration, to which she clicked her tongue in response and lifted you up over her shoulder. “Oh, well, what a lovely view I have here of your- ow!”

But the magic wore off, and the whispers started.

Not from anyone else, from yourself. At first, you ignored them, turning your nose up at them and shrugging them off, thinking they were stupid because of how right it felt to be in her arms. But they were insistent, determined to make an imprint on you and the love you wanted to give. Eventually they did. And the secrecy of your relationship began to feel like a double-edged sword that cut deeper with every passing day. You needed help, needed someone to stop the barrage of insecurities that you never wanted to face, never imagined you’d have to. But it felt like a life and death matter, keeping it a secret. You believed you had no other choice. And voicing these anxieties to her, the very subject of the situation, wasn’t even an option in your mind.

You told yourself it was safer to keep it a secret, to make sure your love was safe from the cruelty of the world and its society, yet with each lie you told and each delusion you convinced yourself of, a piece of your identity was chipped away. She had a front-row seat to every part of you that slipped out of her grasp.

At some point, you even stopped recognising the person you saw in the mirror. What was once a reflection of somebody in love, brimming with hope and excitement for not only the future but for every moment you spent in the present with your girlfriend, soon turned into someone cautious, afraid, who constantly looked over their shoulder. The fear consumed you until it was hard to breathe. And in turn, you found yourself pulling away from others because you couldn’t bear lying to them any longer, whilst also not possessing the strength to tell them the truth.

If anyone asked that past version of you why you did it, you’d tell them it was to protect both her and yourself. In reality, you knew that was such a pathetic lie. It couldn't even be called an excuse.

Something that once brought you more fulfillment and happiness than anything else in your life soon felt like a cinder brick chained to your leg, like stones and gravel in your pockets, dragging you down until you were drowning from the expectations you thought were put on you by the world, when they really just your own.

Alexi- she grew antsy and uneasy. You begged to keep it under wraps for just a few more weeks.

She wanted to tell people; she might have been shy at first glance, but she was the kind of person whose love demanded to be seen, she didn’t survive by keeping it contained to the shadows. Every time she looked at you, her feelings for you were written all over her face – the joy, the pride, the desperation to share her love for you with everyone that mattered. To her, you were something worth sharing with the world. She dreamed of the day she could introduce who you really were to her with her family, her friends, with anyone that would listen.

Initially, she understood why you were hesitant. Like you’d always told her, she was smart. She knew why you were reluctant to tell people, she just had no idea how deep that ‘reluctance’ ran. One of your favourite traits of hers ended up being the beginning of the end; she was exceptionally good at reading people and figuring out what was happening before it had even happened. She saw the way you shrank into yourself when people looked your way, how you would purposely lower your voice when talking about the pair of you. She tried to be patient, but it wasn’t easy.

Each time she caught herself smiling at you in public, the same smile that made you blush because you could see and feel her love for you, she knew she had to suppress it for your sake. That caused an ache to grow in her chest, the fact she had to dim her own light to quell your worries. Because it wasn’t just the secrecy that hurt, it was the feeling that she wasn’t allowed to love you as wholeheartedly as she wanted to.

Weeks turned into months and she tried to give you your space to work it through, but soon enough she felt like she was in a relationship with a ghost. A shell of a person. And in all honesty, to her, it felt like rejection, even though she knew that wasn’t your intention. However, her assurance in that began to falter. She began to wonder if her love wasn’t enough, if she wasn’t enough. She prided herself on being someone that was confident and sure, but the longer she spent feeling like a bird in a cage, she found herself questioning everything.

Why couldn’t you see what she saw? That your love was worth the risk?

There were more nights than she could count where she spent hours laying awake, the darkness doing little to calm her racing mind. Most of the time, you were sleeping beside her, either cuddled to her side or facing away from her. The times you chose to snuggle up to her were the worst nights, where she didn’t get an ounce of sleep as it was like she could almost feel the fear radiating off of you. It reached a point where she felt trapped between wanting to honour your insecurities and needing to honour her own heart. The longer you rejected the idea of telling people, the more she felt like a secret, something to be hidden rather than openly cherished.

Though she never wanted to make you feel guilty, there was a loneliness that settled inside of her, and there was a growing distance she felt from you that she had no idea how to bridge without it inevitably ending in one thing.

She never stopped loving you for a second, how could she? But the weight of carrying that love alone eventually became unbearable. As much as she tried to resist that, it was there anyway. It soon led to her feeling like she was losing the person she wanted to be, someone that wanted their love to be visible, that wanted to celebrate it with the people she valued most in her life. So she made a choice.

After that, you couldn’t stay in Barcelona. You couldn't stomach the place any longer when every street corner and every park and every restaurant solely served as a reminder of the good memories that were a thing of the past. Even saying the name of the city sent your head and your heart to a dark place. So did saying her name.

Back then, you couldn’t figure out who you were; torn between the person you wanted to be and the person you thought you had to be. So you went travelling, to immerse yourself in any and all cultures, to meet new people, to try new things, in the hopes of finding yourself again.

Except, every single word that was exchanged in that final conversation still echoed in your mind no matter where you went.

You sat in cafes halfway across the world and saw her in the steam from your coffee that just so happened to be the same one she used to have every morning. You flew over countless countries and saw her in every stadium you passed by. You saw her in every blade of grass, in every speck of sand, in every sunrise and sunset, before you had to remind yourself that she wasn’t yours to think about anymore.

It had been years, almost a decade, since your first kiss with her, and you could still vividly remember how it played out, how the warmth and the softness of her lips caught you off guard, how she smirked at you after kissing your cheek in goodbye before sending you into your lecture. That spontaneous moment – well, spontaneous for you, for her it had been precariously planned – was some kind of cruel foreshadow that haunted you; it had happened in public, the pair of you could have been open from the very start, the irony of it had never been lost on you. Perhaps the warning signs might have been there from the start.

“Our first kiss was in public, it was in front of so many people, but now I can’t even smile at you too much when we’re out together.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the one that initiated our first kiss in public, I didn’t.”

“So, what, you would change how it happened?”

“M… maybe, yeah.”

You knew, as soon as you said that last thing, the relationship was over. To this day you still don’t know why you said it, you wouldn’t change a thing about the relationship or her as a person. It was just another example of you being too terrified to be honest with who you were.

By the time you accepted that it was okay to be who you were, there was only one person you wanted. But by then, that ship had long sailed. You didn’t want anyone, you wanted her. Forcing yourself to believe otherwise felt like carving out a part of your heart. It was almost as hard as having to hear her break up with you over a fear you didn’t even know you had until she ran into your life. As a result, she was long gone, and you didn’t even blame her.

Eventually, you managed to persuade yourself you didn’t want her. It was better that way. And though you weren’t quite whole, you did find yourself through travelling. It just… you still felt like something was missing.

—

Dropping out of University wasn’t ideal, but like most other people that did the same thing, you saw too much beauty in the world on your gap year to be restrained to a 9-5 for the rest of your life. You were fortunate enough to find a company that allowed you to pick up odd jobs here and there of your choosing, in any country of your choosing. It was a dream, you felt free when you weren't ruminating on the events that led you to this point.

Each city you visited became a second home for however long you spent there, though every fleeting connection you made with their locals was a futile attempt to paint over the memories from your past. Nothing could fill the void left behind, but still, you jumped from country to country, telling yourself that planes and hotels and hole-in-the-wall bars were the places you were supposed to be.

Finding yourself walking home from the closest corner shop to your hotel at the dead of night past one of Sydney’s most well-known clubs, only to stumble across her standing outside its entrance, was the most suffocated and trapped you had felt since the days after you saw her last– nine years ago.

You stopped in your tracks some distance away from her, your eyes locking with hers as she froze, body going rigid at the sight of you. Nothing could have prepared you to see her that night, you really weren’t ready to see her again at all especially with zero warning. Sure, you dreamt of seeing her again, of being back in each other’s lives like no time had passed at all, but actually seeing her was a whole different story.

You didn’t know what to do.

“I never thought I would see you again.” Alexia, with pink hair and an unnecessarily large gold medal around her neck, stated first. “Qué coño haces aquí?”

The viciousness of her voice caught you off-guard, because throughout your whole relationship including the ending argument, she had never once sounded like that. Though, nine years had passed, maybe she had changed. For the worst.

So, you walked right past her, not in the mood to entertain a fight with an ex.

“I was talking to you.” She called after you, sounding somewhat shocked you had the audacity to walk past her like she was nothing more than a stranger. But, in this state, she was. It seemed the years had hardened her into someone that was just a stranger.

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.” You fired back as you continued to walk, and you thought that was that. But then you heard the breaking of glass as Alexia dropped her bottle of beer into the nearest bin and followed you.

“You know, it is the least I deserve after how you treated me back then.” She knew exactly the right thing to say to get you to react.

“If you had half a brain and any sense of sympathy, you would know I didn’t do any of it to hurt you.” You fought back, turning to face her and wanting nothing more than to slap the triumphant smirk off of her face.

“Now that is a lie. How would that make it okay? That the person I love didn’t love me enough to let me tell my family at least?”

Almost a decade’s worth of anger was being unleashed on you and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You knew you deserved it, but were too riled up in the moment to sit there and take it. So you retaliated, because the woman in front of you was being selfish and too big-headed to see why you did it, and if she still didn’t understand after nine years, it was her own fault.

“Of course I loved you enough, I loved you more than I could ever say. Have you, on the off chance, ever heard of something called anxiety? Ever heard of a thing called fear, and depression, or even just mental health overall?”

When Alexia won her first Champion’s League, you purposely went out of your way to ignore the news, because it seemed after that title her name was never out of it. So, even though her face was all over the newspapers during the summer you spent in London, detailing the severity of her injury and what that meant for Spain’s chances, you didn’t know a thing about it.

You matched her immaturity, completely unaware of the fact she had just spent the best part of a year out of playing action, during which she had so desperately wished she had you by her side to help her through one of the worst moments of her life. In the first couple months, she had been forced to see a therapist, she had been diagnosed with depression, and what she learnt in those sessions was that all the mental pain she felt then came circling right back to you.

Alexia had thrown herself into football after breaking up with you, seeking refuge in the one thing that had never let her down all her life. But then she tore her ACL, and it had let her down, and suddenly the emptiness of her bed and her chest was the only thing on her mind. There were days where she never left the house, where she didn’t do her stretches, didn’t get up from the sofa to keep her leg moving. There were days where all she thought about was you, and how different things might have been if the two of you weren’t so young back then.

Maybe if she was more patient, you two would have made it, and her gruelling rehab wouldn’t have been so challenging. But she was on her own, she had no one to wake up for in the morning, no shoulder to cry on, no one to reassure her in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep that she’d get through this. She just had to get on with it.

So to see you stood in front of her only mere months after she'd made her return, despite winning the biggest title of her career, it was like she’d finally woken up from the numb headspace she’d been in since the pop in her knee the summer before. Only, the words that came out of her mouth weren’t her true feelings. She had no idea where they were coming from, but they were out before she could stop them. And then it was too late to go back on her words, because by the time she regretted them, you hit back with accusations that stoked the fire that had been extinguished by her progress in therapy. She reverted back to how she felt before her injury, when she still loathed you with every fibre of being, and let out every ounce of pain and fury she had carried with her for years.

However, after you said that, the Barcelona captain came up empty for a reply.

“Times have changed. Things were different then.” You continued on, and it was obvious that too long had passed in the way you couldn't read her face anymore. You completely missed the sorrow and regret on her face, and instead took it for disdain.

“I kno-”

“You don't know a thing.” You laughed maliciously. “You have no idea how I felt or what was going on in my mind. All you did was blame me and run away.”

Just as Alexia had gone to apologise and go back on everything she said, you took things a step further. You were disappointed in yourself for it, but you felt there was no other option but to meet her anger and one-up her, to fight for the last laugh. It was so wrong to address each other in such ways, you both recognised that. Not that it stopped either of you.

“I did not run away, you did. You haven't come home since we broke up and I think that says it all, no?”

“There is no home for me in Barcelona anymore.” Alexia physically recoiled at your statement, and you saw it. You saw the guilt slip away from her eyes and the anger return to them. But it was too late to do anything.

“Well, it looks like it was worth it for the both of us, the breakup. You got to travel and I have the best medal I could get around my neck.”

Your eyes flicked down to the medal and you read the words on it – Women’s World Cup. It was her biggest dream, you remembered countless times she’d be with you, her eyes with that far away look she often got and a dreamy smile on her face as she thought of her future and all she knew she could achieve, as long as the world and the sport allowed her.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked her one night as you wandered into your bedroom to see her lay in bed, hands rested under her head as she stared at the ceiling.

“Football.” She murmured, eyes unmoving, like her entire future was projected on the ceiling in some kind of montage, flickers of trophies and awards passing on by.

“How romantic.” You scoffed, getting into bed beside her and immediately moving to rest your head on her chest with one leg swung across her thighs. “What about football?”

“I am just… excited. There is so much to look forward to.” She whispered in awe, a smile on her face so intense it creased into the corners of her eyes. The sight of it had you smiling too.

“There is.” You sighed contently, before lifting your head up to look at her, and she looked down. “You’ll do such amazing things, Ale. I know you will.”

Somehow, her face softened, and she let out a disbelieving breath as she turned her gaze back to the damn ceiling.

“I hope so.” The midfielder said quietly, as if it was a jinx to speak any louder.

“You will. But you can’t forget me along the way. I want all your medals hung up in our house when we’re older.” Alexia chuckled gently at that, and she leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You can have all my medals, you will be right there with me. Me, you, our families. Maybe a family of our own.”

The memory seemed to jump to your minds at the same time, judging by how you met each other’s eyes a moment after you initially looked at the now taunting object that glimmered under the street lamps and city lights around. Her past promise, which had seemed so… eternal and meaningful in that moment, was hardly recognisable. The eyes you stared at weren’t the same either. They were cold and antagonistic, far from the warmth that was once there, the warmth that drew you in in the first place.

It was that revelation that allowed you to continue this animosity.

“Oh yeah? Good for you. I’m sure you and your gold medal will make great kids together.”

“Fuck you. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

Alexia knew she’d won with that one; she turned around with a shake of her head and headed back to the club whilst you were rooted to the spot, wondering how everything could go so wrong in a matter of minutes.

You don’t know who you are either.

—

That day, in Australia, it wrecked you. Wholly and completely.

It was the nail in the coffin that was your sense of self, because if the one person that never left your thoughts for even a day thought of you like that, then you were lost. Truly lost.

For nine years, whether you knew it or not, you’d been waiting every day to turn a corner and see her standing there. You imagined walking up to her, tears in your eyes and a smile on your face, an expression she reflected when she opened her arms for you to step into. You’d had her hugs for a year, you’d memorised them well, nine years couldn’t erase that and neither could a lifetime. You would always remember the strength she hugged you with and how secure they made you feel in everything. In yourself, in your life, in your love. But to have that same person tell you they don’t recognise you was an unfathomable heartbreak.

No matter where you went in the time after that, the pain never went away. Ever since you realised you’d never be who you was when you were with Alexia, no matter how many places you travelled or how many people you met, how many jobs you did or how many degrees you could get, you wouldn’t feel as settled and happy without her. And, in fact, with time, the ache in your heart only grew. It ached and groaned in your hollow chest as you dragged it around the world when it called for one place and one place only. Or rather, one person.

But said person had made their dislike clear to you. So that option was more unlikely than it’d ever been before.

Not impossible, however.

Because Alexia couldn’t hate herself more for saying so many lies. For being so disgraceful in how she presented herself to someone she still thought so highly of. Most importantly, for making that person think otherwise about her opinion of them.

In the years after she saw you last, when she walked out of your apartment to the sound of your cries behind her, she’d subconsciously searched for you in every person she met. Any habit they had, any slight familiarity in appearance even if it was one freckle in the same place, any similar interests. It was wrong and she knew it was, when she looked back. All the people she hurt, the people who thought they had a chance with her against the idolised version of her first love in her mind, they didn’t deserve her. And after Sydney, she didn’t deserve you either.

When she said those vile things to you, she hoped she would feel some kind of… closure from it. Some kind of catharsis in the fact she could finally close the chapter of her life that had you on her mind all the time. Instead there was just a deep and gnawing disappointment that followed her everywhere she went. From her bed, to training, to her mother’s house – especially her mother’s house, for the wise woman always loved to remind her of what she’d lost – and even to her games as she lined up in the tunnel beforehand.

Her disappointment towards you had dissolved years ago, this disappointment was entirely aimed at herself. She hated how she had let her anger, that she didn’t even feel anymore, overshadow the love that had once defined the both of you. It still did, just in a different and entirely soul-crushing way. The love clung to her heart like a wound that refused to heal, even after all these years.

Ever since she made the hardest decision she had ever had to make, cutting you out of her life, she had spent so much time moving forwards, pushing herself to be stronger, to achieve more, hoping it would erase the memory of you and numb the pain she felt. That failed, however. The only thing she failed at. Seeing you again had broken the dam that stored all her feelings for you and let them flood her mind again. She felt more broken after that confrontation than she had in a long time.

Alexia hadn’t blamed you for some time, and she wasn’t sure why, the second you were in front of her, that she acted like she did. Nobody compared to you and nobody ever would. The fact she made such a horrible comment, one her aggravated self knew would hurt you, did irrevocable things to her view of herself. She never thought she could stoop so low, but she did. She didn’t know how to come back from it.

The version of you she saw that day, the version of you she knew didn’t exist and was only a retaliation to her own hostility, was not the version that stuck in her head the months after that. It was the person she fell in love with when she was only twenty. And it was that version she got when she was getting led out of a bar in Paris, a year after the World Cup, this time with no medal to her name, just a missed penalty.

It was the exact same setup a year onwards, but things were so much different. For starters, you weren’t in Paris for work, you were on a break, and of course the one city in the world you ran to for respite was the same one she was in. However, the sight of two members of security walking out of a bar behind the star you knew Alexia as now was enough concern in itself for you to abandon your friends, who had no idea who the blonde was both as a celebrity and a person of the past to you. Your nerves were fried and you were reluctant to speak to her again, but as soon as you got within two feet of her, you grimaced at how the smell of alcohol radiated off her and knew instantly it was the right thing to do.

“I’ll take her, sorry for… whatever she’s done.” You said to the workers, who rolled their eyes and left you with the drunken mess she was.

“No, you don’t have to take me. You d-don’t deserve to. N-not me.”

Her words were slurred and there was an overwhelming amount of emotion in her voice. The state of her combined with those two things was enough to convince you this time around with her would be different. Different in what way, you weren’t sure. But she could hardly walk on her own, you couldn’t leave anyone in this way, nevermind someone like her who… still meant so much to you.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to where you’re staying, make sure you get there safe.” You had to be sensible then, and focusing on the softness of her skin when you lifted her arm up around your shoulders and held onto her hand was not sensible. “Do you know your hotel?”

She rattled off some more drunk nonsense until you managed to pick out the name of a hotel in her words as you wrapped your arm around her waist to steady her. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from where you were. And despite her current state, she was unnervingly silent on the walk there. It wasn’t until you made it to the hotel lobby you chanced a look at her and saw a steady stream of tears down her face.

When you saw her like that then, it didn’t matter how many years had passed. It upset you to see her cry then as much as it did when you used to be the one she went to in these cases. Yet, in this scenario, you weren’t that person and you didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Hey, do you have your card on you, Ale?” The nickname slipped out of you, and it was a bad move, judging by the cries that came out of her afterwards. “Okay, alright.”

Since you couldn’t get much out of her, you dragged her over to the reception desk, and it took little convincing for them to hand over a spare keycard considering the sobbing mess that Alexia was.

The whole walk to the elevator, you felt helpless as her shoulders shook, torn between wanting to say something and thinking it was best to stay quiet for the time being since you knew you were probably part of the reason she was like she was. The ride up to her floor was even worse; all you could do was stand there, arm around her and hand in hand, listening to the pain pouring out of her. It sent you spiralling, almost, thinking of the years apart where she’d been like this with no one to help her like you were now.

All you wanted to do was wipe away her tears, to embrace her, to tell her everything was okay. But that was entirely unrealistic, because you had no idea where you stood with her and telling someone in her state that everything was okay was entirely meaningless. Seeing her so vulnerable and so wrecked was a reminder of exactly how much she meant to you.

So, it was in that elevator, you made a split-second decision; from that moment on, you were going to do anything to fix this ridge between you. You had her a year ago but royally screwed up your chance. You had her ten years ago and screwed up that chance too. You weren’t about to let history repeat itself for the third time.

“Here we go, you sit down here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” You carefully urged her to sit on the armchair in her room, and she did, but only for about a second. When she saw you walk away from her, she shot up out of her chair, mumbling some rushed Spanish you couldn’t quite make out as she tried to follow wherever you were going. “I’m just getting you some water from the fridge.”

“Don’t go.” She sighed heavily, her eyelids drooping slightly from the alcohol in her system mixed with the overload of emotions from the day she’d had. She sounded wrecked when she spoke, and she looked at you with a desperation that made your heart stop. “Please don’t go. Not… not again.”

You nodded reassuringly, heading back over to her and tentatively taking hold of one of her hands. She immediately brought it up to her lips and kissed your knuckles, some more tears making their way out.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not right now.” You told her quietly, watching as she closed her eyes, maybe in relief, before she slumped back down into the chair. Her head fell back and you heard some more cries from her, but she seemed to be making as much an effort as she could to stifle them. That was perhaps more heartbreaking than the sound of her sobs. “Here you go. Drink some water.”

With shaking hands, she managed to get the bottle open after a few tries, and you sat on the edge of the bed across from her. Some minutes passed by as you gazed at her and she calmed down, and weirdly, it didn’t feel uncomfortable or charged with vitriol like it did last time. Things seemed to be… in the past. Of course, all the emotions and feelings were still there, both of you could sense the elephant in the room and you didn’t dance around it for too long before one of you spoke.

“How… how did we end up like this.” Alexia mumbled. You didn’t have an answer for her. There was too much to say but it didn’t feel like anything could cover it.

“I don’t know.” You whispered back. The blonde tore her eyes away from the label of the water bottle that she messed with and met your gaze. The concerned look on your face made her smile, just for a second. “I really don’t know.”

“I want you to know that I am sorry. For my part in everything.” She rushed out like she was afraid of your reaction, her attention back on the water bottle she’d gotten through half of already.

The apology caught you by surprise. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry too.” You replied some time after.

It also caught Alexia by surprise as well, if the way her head snapped up at you and her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened was anything to go by. You smiled shyly at her, only for the hopeful glint in her eyes to cause your breath to hitch in your throat. It was the first time in… well, the first time ever, that you felt this rift could be fixed. She seemed to want the same thing, and you hoped to god that the alcohol in her system wasn’t affecting her clarity.

“Why did you come here? At the bar, why did you help me?” She wondered, her eyebrows pinched together then, seemingly confused.

“Because no matter what’s happened between us, I couldn’t leave you like that. You seemed like you needed help.” You answered initially, before pausing for a second. Alexia nodded for you to continue. “What happened today, Ale? For you to get like this?”

The midfielder huffed, fidgeting in her seat and blinking away yet more tears that tried to fight their way out.

“I… there is a lot on my mind. Has been for a while. And my team, Spain, we were playing an important game today. For an Olympic medal. I…” She frowned, turning her head so that you couldn’t see her face. She seemed ashamed of herself when she spoke again. “I missed a penalty that would have made us level, it would have given us a chance and I… I missed it.”

The bottle dropped to the floor as she covered her face with her hands, her chest heaving as she leaned forwards to rest her elbows on her knees, shoulders shaking again like they did earlier. The sobs leaving her, much like before, were difficult to hear because they sounded like they’d been repressed for far longer than a few hours. Before you could react, though, she was talking again.

“I have missed so many big chances. I missed today. I missed last year with you. I messed up my knee twice. I messed up with you when I broke up with you. I can’t… do anything right.”

As soon as she finished, you were up from your seat and heading over to kneel in front of her. You gently pulled her hands from her face and wrapped your arms around her, encouraging her to do the same as she leaned her forehead against your shoulder. And for a while, the two of you stayed like that. Alexia cried and cried until she exhausted herself, you weren’t sure how long she went on, but you weren’t going to stop her at any point. She needed that more than anything else.

Until she pulled back suddenly and put her hands on your cheeks, cradling them tenderly and stroking her thumbs across your cheekbones. You weren’t expecting it, but… you didn’t stop it either. Even when she leaned down and pressed her forehead against yours.

“So much time has gone by. I haven’t forgotten you, cariño, I told you I never would.” She said, her voice hoarse and hardly there. “I never forgot you, never will.”

You wanted to tell her how you felt, wanted to tell her that hearing her say that was the best thing you’d heard in ten years, wanted to tell her you still loved her. But the time wasn’t right.

“Thank you.” You decided to say, and you saw how her face fell, before she quickly disguised her disappointment and gave a tight-lipped smile instead. “You’re exhausted, Ale. You should go to bed, get some rest. Sleep this off.”

“What will you do?” The fear and the anxiety in her tone then, you knew all too well. It was exactly what you felt back then and the resemblance gave you goosebumps. How things had changed.

“I’ll stay for a little while. As long as you get in bed and try to rest.”

Thankfully, she did as you said, and no more than ten minutes later, the blonde was under the covers with only the small bedside lamp on so that you could see. She lay on her stomach facing away from where you sat against the headboard beside her, finally having a second to think for yourself and process all that had happened. The thing you landed on first, the main feeling you could identify, was how overwhelmed you felt. You couldn’t think clearly when she was in bed next to you.

When you thought she was asleep, her breathing even and quiet compared to how she was before when she was worked up, you took a chance and leaned down to leave a kiss on her shoulder. It seemingly went off without a hitch, so with tears of your own forming, you quietly got off the bed and headed towards the door.

“You leaving?” Alexia asked in a half-asleep mumble. When you paused with your hand on the handle, she waited a minute before carrying on. “It’s okay. See you around. Hopefully.”

—

It was inevitable that you’d end up back here. Back in the city you met her.

After she’d said that phrase to you, the same phrase that really started it all, you knew it was only a matter of time before you saw her again. Because that time in Paris, it had been different.

If someone asked you why, you would say you weren’t sure. It was a gut feeling, not a certainty. The same gut feeling that took you around the world even though it seemed nothing ever truly surmounted from it. However, in the end, something had. It led you back to Alexia.

After you closed the door to her hotel room behind her once you left, you leaned back against it and put a hand over your mouth to cover your own cries that forced their way out. She was right behind you in the room, she could probably hear you, but you didn’t care. She had apologised and told you she hadn’t forgotten about you. Those two things meant so much more than they seemed to on the surface.

As you walked down the familiar streets of Barcelona, the past ten years flashed by in a similar way to how people thought your life flashed by before the end. All the anguish, the resentment, the guilt and regret, they strolled right on by. You ignored them and focused on the good. Albeit, there wasn’t much of that, but enough that you felt sure in what you were about to do. This wasn’t the end, this was the beginning again. This was one door closing and another one opening as you entered a cafe you knew like the back of your hand, even a decade on.

She was sat at the same table you always used to sit at. A booth by the window in the back corner. Closed off enough from the other customers with a view of the streets you both walked together in the past. Her hand in yours, hidden in the pocket of her coat.

Her back was to you as went over, so by the time you got there and went to sit down, she was flustered, standing up out of nerves yet unsure of how to greet you. To put her at ease, you giggled softly, then sat down across from her. She let out a relieved sigh before crossing her arms on the table and taking in the sight of you in front of her. It was the first time she properly had the chance.

You looked older, ten years had passed so of course you did, but nothing about you had changed that much. You were still the same person she fell in love with and that’s all that mattered to her.

“Hi.” You finally said.

“Hi.” She replied.

The pair of you shared tearful smiles and one of Alexia’s hands drifted across the table to take one of yours. With her in front of you, the same girl you bumped into at University, and her hand, that was slightly weathered by the years of sports, holding yours, it felt like no time had passed at all.

—

shamelessly inspired by tyler the creator! i had the majority of this done until that anon decided to drop by last night and then that kinda put me off this one but it's whatever! i know this was a bit of a heavy read so i thank you for sticking with it and i hope it was enjoyable nevertheless <3

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fic

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sillymommy6969 · 2 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰YES ON THEM

Manon Bannerman x fem!reader

summary: a compilation of bannern/n moments eyekons have turned into a video, katseye’s two visuals as a power couple? who can keep their eyes off them?

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

pt.2, pt.3

HYBE PLEASE NEVER PR TRAIN MANON (KATZ CRACK)

*Loud technical difficulty transition* On Manon and Daniela’s Weverse livestream in their bedroom, Daniela was doing dance moves in the background of the video while Manon read the comments and chatted with fans in the front

Manon was the worst at PR training. The woman had lips looser than an unbuckled belt. She was much more tame when they were surrounded by crew members, but when it’s just her and her phone on Weverse, you can expect a lot of slips.

Especially when she’s paired alone with Daniela.

“‘Where are the others?’” Manon read aloud, looking back at Daniela, who was finally settling to sit behind her roommate. “What, you sick of us already?”

Daniela swatted her arm at the tone she used, as if a silent warning as to be careful what people could take out of context. She toyed with her hood, listing what the girls were occupied with. “Well, Sophia’s on a zoom call downstairs with her family. I think Yoonchae went to bed… Lara and Megan went out to get something at the convenience store and Y/N is probably online shopping or something in her room.”

“Yeah, she better be getting me my Christmas gift.”

“Didn’t she already give you like three ‘pre-game’ gifts?” Daniela turned to the camera, “Oh my God, Y/N does this thing where she gets Manon a million things for the week leading up to Christmas. She only does it for Manon and I always feel like choking her out ‘cuz she’s spoiling her rotten.”

Manon rolled her eyes, “They’re gonna know we’re—!”

Daniela widened her eyes, shooting Manon a knowing glare before the older pursed her lips together. The both of them went silent for a moment, scared to look at the influx of questions and comments they were getting for the sudden cutoff, curious to know what the end of Manon’s sentence was.

user01 WE WHAT MANON WE WHAT

user02 Manon almost exposed their relationship

user03 is this what getting edged feels like

user04 WE BEEN KNEW GIRL COME ON OUT

user05 Y/N knows how to spoil her girl

“Anyway,” Daniela said, ignoring the nosh comments. “Yeah, we have the weekend off, so everybody’s just chilling, y’know.”

Manon, with a cheeky smile on her face, tried retieing her hair in attempts to distract the fans from what she had just nearly revealed. But for the next couple minutes, despite Daniela’s efforts to pull everybody’s attention away from that topic, the audience always seemed to circle back to it.

“No, I have to say my favourite hoodie has to be the black Ferrari one.” Manon argued, staring at a suspicious Daniela. “It used to be the one you just said but it’s not anymore.”

“You’re just making stuff up, I swear. You still wear the other one so much more than the Ferrari one.” Daniela scoffed, “You wore the blue one like five times this week, like you literally wore it to dinner yesterday.”

user06 the blue hoodie Y/N just posted on insta in??

user07 They wear each other’s clothes I’m dead

user08 Dani have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet???

Daniela squinted to read the comment when she saw her name was mentioned, “‘Dani, have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet?’ No, I can’t say I have. What is it?”

“Oh, is it this one?” Manon flashed her wrist to the camera, where a couple cuffs and bracelets hung. Her other hand picked out a thin silver chain with a “K” strung at the end of it. “This is the one Megan got us for Katseye’s first birthday.”

She flaunted her hand, fingers waving around as she showed off her accessories.

user09 Y/N’s new necklace looks nice Manon!

user10 oh yeah that would look really good around her neck

Daniela skimmed the comments, suddenly bursting into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Manon, her arm still up, in the middle of her accessory tour, leant back. Surprised by the Latina’s sudden change in attitude, she glanced between the camera and her roommate as if she was an insane person.

“Oh my God, they’re saying your hands would make a really good necklace for Y/N.” Daniela explained, still laughing.

Manon’s eyes widened, heat immediately flushing to her cheeks. She thanked all the Gods her smooth skin tone hid any hint of fluster, or she would have been beer red at the comment. She placed a hand over her eyes, her lips quirking into a small smile as she groaned.

“That’s good, that’s a good one. I like that.” Daniela sighed.

Next door, you could hear the two of them screaming and squabbling on live. You opened a new tab, sick of scrolling through the same catalogues on different websites. You were feeling lazy, didn’t really feel like getting up to join the two nextdoor, so you pulled up Weverse, clicking onto Manon’s live. Right off the bat, you were met with the Ghanaian woman showing off her bracelets and such, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the comments that followed.

Sometimes, this was your favourite part about having fans.

When Daniela’s laugh on the live had synced with the one next door, you couldn’t help but also giggle at Manon’s reaction when she was told what eyekons thought of her tour.

It was enough of a motivator to go nextdoor; to tease her.

“—Anyway! Can we please talk about anything else.”

A knock sounded through the room, both their heads turned to the door, watching Y/N’s head pop through the doorway. Daniela pounced to her feet, jogging over to jump into the older’s arms as Y/N carried her back in front of the camera.

Manon rolled her eyes, her tongue sticking against her inner cheek as she stared at the two goofing around in the back.

user11 Oh someone’s jealous…

used12 if looks could kill they’d be dead by now

“Dani’s so light, I can probably squat heavier than you.” Y/N teased, her arms still wrapped around the Latina’s waist as Daniela clung onto her with her legs. “Anyways, you guys were being so loud, I wanted to see what was up.”

Y/N finally sets Daniela down, who found her spot behind Manon again.

Y/N slung an arm over Manon, poking her head between the roommates. “Heard you have a new necklace for me, Meret. You feeling like letting me try it out?”

user13 the way i’d just moan in response

user14 NOBODY TALK TO ME

user15 Manon I’ll take Y/N if you don’t want her

user16 SHE CALLS HER MERET???

The Ghanaian woman didn’t turn to greet the younger member, instead, with her lips pursed in envy, she deliberately made sure her efforts to ignore Y/N were evident.

Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “Manon, are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Manon huffed, her eyes still trained on the phone. “I’m just tryna talk to eyekons.”

Daniela hissed, making an “Oh, shit” expression and backing away so the other member could slide into where she sat. She eyed the phone from over Y/N’s shoulder, as if telling them she was unaware of what was about to unfold as well.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at the eldest’s sulking.

She slid an arm under Manon’s legs, the other securely held over her back. Kneeling, Y/N sprung to her feet, lifting Manon from the ground. The Ghanaian woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, hands clutching onto Y/N’s hoodie for dear life.

“Did you feel left out, Manon? I was just joking around.”

Daniela watched in terror at the younger member flung Manon around the room in her arms. She slid forward to mouth “help me” into the camera, scared Manon’s feet might hit her head by accident.

“Oh my God, you ass—you bully, put me down.”

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to being interviewed as promotion for the release of Touch, Y/N seemed to be the interviewer’s main foci.

“—Yes, thank you. My next question is for Y/N, uh, so we heard you like a tall, dark and handsome type.” The interviewer read off his card, a mic held up to his lips. The question immediately raised some red flags for the group, Sophia and Manon—as the eldest and the leader—shared a knowing look. They were ready for whatever the man had to throw at them. “You’ve posted a couple of instagram photos and been seen out with a certain singer that’s been on Euphoria, is this a new potential partner, or what’s going on there?”

Y/N was slightly taken aback by how blunt the question came out. Usually management did a good job keeping questions about their personal lives out of interviews when they approve them for the video, but this one must’ve snuck past them.

The woman raised her mic, flashing the cameras her signature smile. The other members could only sit and admire how well her composure was, despite being asked such an intrusive query. She chuckled, eyeing Manon, who didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked to be ready to pounce out of her chair whenever. Y/N gave her a subtle nod, as if telling her to stand down.

“Well, he and I met through mutual friends in the industry and we all get together to hang out on my day offs.” Y/N explained, “We’re just good buddies, nothing more.”

The interviewer chuckled, naive to the searing glares he was receiving from all the girls.

��Shame, a lot of people think you’d look like a power couple, the both of you being very talented singers and all,” he scanned his card, the only one laughing in the room full of dozens of people. “Is there anybody special in your life then? Or is this a chance for me to shoot my shot.”

Oh, six pairs of eyes glared daggers at him.

[ Love that they all stand up for their girl ]

None of them were smiling anymore, not even out of courtesy. Daniela and Lara in the front had their arms crossed, their legs spread as they sneered at the man. Megan and Yoonchae were the better ones at concealing just how aghast they were at the unprofessionalism, their expressions stoic, but the aura around them growing cold. Sophia sat upright, ready to jump in when the man stopped talking, but Manon—Manon was sitting beside Y/N, and it took one look at the woman’s uncomfortable expression for her to want to break the man’s neck.

“—Actually, we’re all really focused on our journey as Katseye right now, so we don’t really have time for other kinds of commitment just yet. Even then, we try and keep our personal and professional lives separated because a healthy work-life balance is very important.” Manon answered passively, her smile immediately fading when she finished talking.

But by the way the man gulped and stopped chuckling, it was obvious he finally noticed the elephant in the room.

“I understand how people are very intrigued by that aspect of our lives though, it can be hard to know where to draw the line sometimes.” Y/N added in a smoother tone, hoping to soften the blow of loathing this man was hit with. “But, respectfully, we love talking about and sharing our experience with making music more than we do discussing our lives.”

The interviewer nodded, “Of course. We can move on.”

Throughout the rest of the interview, Manon had a hand on the younger member’s thighs. Their fingers laced together as they answered the rest of the questions. Later, Y/N would tease the Ghanaian woman with edits people have made of the moment Manon stood up for her.

A screenshot of a very popular one of those edits would be the wallpaper for the girls’ group chat the next few weeks,

*Loud technical difficulty transition* In Y/N’s Weverse live with Megan for a dance session, the older between the two was obviously distracted by constant chimes coming from her phone. Fans get a nice surprise all on live.

Megan and Y/N swayed their hips to the beat, thrusting in and pulling away as the song played. The comments would flood with praises for their undeniably talented skills, and by the end of their choreography, they were both panting and sweating.

user01 omg omg omg omg my dinner menu

user02 The difference in outfits is taking me out

user03 BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, dapping Megan up before the two of them approached Megan’s phone. It was resting on a chair against the wall, so it would stream everything they did.

In a sports bra and baggy jeans, Y/N had her hair down. She was sporting thick glasses, ones fans pointed out Daniela liked wearing in the series of tiktok’s they filmed last month. Megan on the other hand, had a more Adam Sandler type fit going on. The two of them devoured their individual styles.

[ Oh my god, it’s all over the screen ]

“That’s the choreo Megan and I have done so far.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Manon asking if she was in her room.

Megan’s infectious cackle interrupted before she could reply.

“Someone said we’re not pregnant but we always deliver,” she managed to read out in between gasping for air amidst her fit of amusement. “Oh my God, that’s so iconic.”

Opening her mouth to retaliate, another buzz sounds.

Y/N pulled her phone back out from her pocket, seeing another text from Manon, urging for an answer. She chuckled, shaking her head at the woman’s impatience.

Megan skimmed the comments, before turning back.

“Somebody said, ‘Only one thing could have Y/N smiling at her phone like that’.” The Chinese dancer read out, “Another person added, ‘Manon’s probably missing her boo thang’.”

Y/N shook her head, deciding keeping up appearances with their fans was more important than replying right away.

“It was just our manager, guys. A reminder for what we need to do tomorrow.” Y/N lied, “Anyway, if anybody was wondering, we are working really hard for MAMA. Especially Meggers here.” She grabbed the redhead, yanking her close to knock their heads together. “She’s carrying the dancing with Dani right now.”

peanutbutterlover02 Bad girl

peanutbutterlover02 Y/N’s ignoring my texts :(

peanutbutterlover02 Guysss stop hogging Y/N

Y/N and Megan both silenced at the sudden pop of a verified user commenting, but after reading the handle, both of them shared a moment of faux annoyance.

“Manon, get out of our comment section!” Megan yelled, “Go do something, man!”

The meme reference squeezed a laugh from Y/N, who shook her head. But, still, it’s Katseye. Of course she couldn’t resist joining in on the teasing herself. Her voice dropped low, “News flash, Dwayne’s forehead isn’t real. It’s a prosthetic.”

Both of them giggle at their own joke.

user04 Oop- Manon’s coming to collect fr

user05 can’t even defend them anymore

user06 so we were right Y/N was giggling cuz of manon

user07 BAD GIRL IS CRAZY

“Sorry, Meret, we’re just about to wrap this session up and I’ll text you back immediately after, okay?”

Manon could only suck it up, leaving a couple more disappointed comments on their livestream as Megan and Y/N show eyekons another part of choreography.

peanutbutterlover02 I’m so boreddddddd

peanutbutterlover02 I’m still waiting >:(

peanutbutterlover02 Guys I need my best friend back

[ BEST FRIEND—sure ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* A KATSEYE HOLIDAY STORY | KATSEYE; Secret Santa Portion

Y/N’s wrapping a gift set, a Fenty beauty make-up kit she specially assembled for Manon. She knew the woman had been complaining about her makeup supply running low, so what better chance than to get her what she needed?

“I know, I know, I went a little over budget,” Y/N chuckled, taping the edges of the wrapping paper together. “But Manon’s been really needing new stuff, and I wanted it.”

[ Ofc Y/N would go above and beyond for Manon ]

“Also, let me tell you guys a secret.” Y/N walked offscreen, coming back with a tiny box.

She motioned for the camera to zoom into the box, before popping it open. Inside, there was a gold necklace, a crown charm at the end of it. Y/N tucked it back into the box, holding a finger up to her lips.

“I got Manon an extra gift, but that’s for after work.”

[ That’s so cute I need me a Y/N ]

“Anyway, I’m glad I got Manon. I think either Daniela or Yoonchae might be my secret santa, ‘cuz I’m sure Megan got Lara and Lara got Sophia.” Y/N shrugged, standing in her cream coloured silky pj set. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Sat around a table on a very festive set, Y/N was instructed to slot in between Megan and Manon.

One by one, the girls presented their gifts to their designated person. When Yoonchae presented Daniela her gift, a neatly wrapped book, it was the Latina’s turn to pull out her gift bag.

“And my secret santa is…” Drumrolls against the table followed, “Y/N!”

Cheers erupted amongst the girls as Daniela slid the bag across the table to Y/N.

“Hope you like it, babe.”

The wrapping paper was still being pulled off as Y/N let out a surprised gasp. Underneath the vibrant wrapping was a vinyl—Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac. Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly. It was one of their favorite albums, something she had been looking for on vinyl forever.

“No way…! Dani, how’d you find this?” Y/N exclaimed, holding it up to the group, her voice practically sparkling.

Dan smiled proudly, her hands still resting on her own wrapped gift. “Well, I know you’re all about that rock life,” she said with a wink, knowing how much this record meant to Y/N. “I had my ways. As long as you’re happy, it was worth it.”

As everyone cheered and clapped, Manon side-eyed the gift.

She had noticed the way Y/N's eyes practically glowed when Daniela handed her the vinyl. It wasn’t just about the gift itself—it was the way Y/N was so genuinely excited. She loved seeing her happy, but Manon herself would have been happier if she had been the reason for such a smile. The way Y/N laughed and praised Daniela, even going as to get out of her chair to tackle the Latina in a hug. The little things that made Manon feel... well, a little left out. She quickly shifted her attention to the other girls, pretending to focus on the conversation, but her mind lingered on the discomfort.

Y/N notices Manon's mood; she smirked.

“Okay, so, it’s my turn.” Y/N turned, grabbing her bag from the floor. The bag had been topped with a cute silver ribbon, the gift itself wrapped with the same paper as the others’ gifts. “And, there’s two people left who hasn’t gotten their secret santa gift yet, so, drumroll, please!”

The table once again rocked as they drummed their hands.

“I have… my favourite drama queen, Manon.”

The Ghanaian woman widened her eyes, hands taking in the present Y/N shimmied over to her. The younger slung her arm over Manon’s shoulders, rubbing it as she watched her open and unwrap the present. A loud yelp rung through the studio, startling the others before Manon fully unwrapped it.

Her face softened when she saw what was inside: a Fenty beauty set—lip glosses, a highlighter, and a few items she had been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on herself.

“Okay, now I know for a fact this is out of budget.” Lara crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised in question.

“Bro, can we do secret santa without Y/N next year?” Sophia chimed, earning a couple teasing agreements. “You’re making all of us look bad now, N/N.”

“Y/N...” Manon whispered, her heart fluttering. “You really did this for me? This was probably so expensive.”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Best way to spend my money. The holidays are all about love, right? This is how I show you guys I love you.” She pulled Megan and Manon into her arms, squeezing them both as the others joined in for a big hug. “I got you all things you want, don’t worry.”

Manon’s smile returned, brighter than before. She leaned in to hug Y/N individually after, her voice quiet but sincere. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”

Their hug lasted a little long, even their editing team seemed to tease them a bit with the excessive exaggeration of how long it was with a time ticking effect over the other girls’ reactions.

The rest of the group watched, their smiles growing as they witnessed the little moment between the two. It was clear, despite the playful teasing and occasional misunderstandings, that Y/N and Manon were closer than anyone could imagine.

Manon held the box up to her chest, beaming.

“Okay, so, Manon, you’re doing yours—!”

[ Y/N really loves spoiling her bandmates, especially Manon… ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to Lara and Yoonchae’s live. The two were sat on the floor of their hotel room, singing and joking around as Sophia occasionally shushed them to be a bit quieter.

“No, Yoonchae, if we were in the Hunger Games, the order we’d go from dying to surviving would be Manon, Sophia, Me, You, Megan, Dani and then Y/N. I feel like Dani’s like so wild and freaky she’d be able to survive better than you.” Lara argued, earning a loud whine of protest from Sophia across the room. “And Megan would be the type to like survive off the stupidest reason, like she’ll accidentally kill someone.”

Yoonchae pouted, “No, no! It’s you, Dani, me, then Y/N.”

“Yoonchae, I swear to God, I’m telling you.” Lara held a hand up, “It’s me, you, Megan, Dani and then Y/N.”

The youngest huffed, unwilling to argue.

user01 Lara any advice on how to flirt w a girl

Yoonchae pointed at the phone. Lara leant forward to read the comment she was pointing out, her lips curving into a smile immediately. “Oh, wow. That’s a question you should ask Y/N. Or Manon… Only ‘cuz the two of them are such flirty people.”

Lara looked offscreen, a guilty smile on her face as she glanced at Sophia for help.

[ Nice save Lara, definitely super slick ]

“Yes, Manon is very…” Yoonchae does a winky face into the camera, “And Y/N gets flirted with a lot when we go to dinner.”

Lara hummed, drawing attention away from what she almost exposed. “Yes. Y/N has a very fluid appearance, she gets a lot of guys and girls coming up to her in public.”

Sophia, voice faint, chimed, “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”

“So, I feel like that’s a good question to ask Y/N. She has the most aura, most unspoken rizz among all of us.”

user02 does manon get jealous when Y/N’s hit on?

[ Took me a while to find this comment! ]

Lara laughed aloud at a comment, momentarily confusing Yoonchae before the younger caught the statement as well. They shared a knowing look, and when their laughter died down, they just remained silent and moved on.

user03 Who’s the most jealous/possessive as a gf?

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this.” Lara rubbed her hands together, “Yoonchae and I actually talked about this at some point. Okay, it goes, from least to most, Yoonchae, Y/N, Megan, Sophia, Me, Dani and then Manon.”

user04 match made in heaven

user05 They’re so jealous x comforting duo my heart

“Because Yoonchae, Y/N and Megan are much more relaxed and I feel like Sophia’s jealous, but she can hide it well. Me, Dani and Manon are definitely more fighters, because ain’t nobody coming near my bae if we dating.” Lara squared up to the camera, eyeing it up and down. “Manon is just lowkey a psycho, so she was at the top of the list.”

Yoonchae nodded, “I’m scared of Manon when she’s angry.”

“I’ve seen Manon mad over something, guys. It’s not pretty and I do not recommend.” Sophia yelled.

[ Since Y/N gets flirted with a lot and Sophia’s seen Manon angry… it’s so obvious ya’ll ]

#katseye x reader #katseye #manon bannerman x reader #manon bannerman #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #yoonchae

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scented-morker · 2 months ago

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NCT Dream under the mistletoe

In which you end up under the mistletoe… 1.6k, fluff fluff fluff, I think gn reader, not proofread

Mark

After so long of dating, you'd think Mark would be fine with kissing you in front of his members

You'd be wrong

Whether it's because he's their hyung or just because they don't let him live— Marks lips are OFF LIMITS when with the boys

(Yes that's exactly how he phrased it)

But it's Christmas, and it's tradition!! And the boys need something new to bully Mark about!!!

So they hang it on the threshold of the dorm and wait in suspense until you knock on the door

"Mark why don't you go get that?"

"Why? I'm kinda busy rn, besides it's yn, don't you guys usually fight over who gets to open the door for them?" Exposed 🫣

"Just Open the door Mark!"

"Fine!"

So he opens the door in a little apron bc he was cooking (scary ik) and the boys start screaming

"MISTLETOE YOURE UNDER THE MISTLETOE YOU HAVE TO KISS!!"

He glares so hard, but you just shrug.

"You look like a cute little housewife rn, I already wanted to kiss you."

He laughs at the comparison before giving you a peck, the boys going wild in the background

"I'll be the housewife if you take care of the kids," he grins, motioning to the crowd behind him

"Deal," you place another peck on him as you walk by and into the crowd of boys. "I have gifts for you gremlins!!"

They were too distracted to tease mark much (until after you left)

Renjun

We all know the boys take every chance to kiss him as they can

Which— understandable but like that’s YOUR boyfriend???

He thinks it’s the funniest thing ever when you complain to him about it one day

“STOP LAUGHING, THIS IS SERIOUS!”

He’s kinda flattered that you’re so protective but still thinks it’s hilarious

“They don’t actually kiss me that much”

LIES

Imagine your terror when you walk into the dreamies Christmas party and see mistletoe EVERYWHERE

“What is this?”

“Idk, Hyuck decorated”

Cue the boy in question calling your boyfriend from across the room

You see he’s standing under one of the plants and refuse to let Renjun go over without you

You follow him around all night, kissing him under every single mistletoe while the boys make faces at you

(Hyuck actually did not decorate, renjun did, and he was having the best night of his life getting your kisses every five minutes) 🤫

Never tell him a secret ever again

Jeno

You weren't even dating 🤭

It was that weird stage of knowing you're more than friends but not saying anything bc WHAT IF YOURE CRAZY

And the boys are TIRED of hearing Jeno nonstop talk about you

"So I think she might feel the same way, but then yesterday when she texted me she ended it with a period, AND she said ly to sign off instead of ily so what if-"

"Jeno literally shut up."

So they do the thing where they ask both of you to hang out and then cancel so it's just the two of you

"Wow I can't believe Chenle and Jisung both just got the flu, that sucks."

Jeno knew exactly what they were doing, and was very suspicious

"Yeah wild, do you wanna grab coffee since we're already here?"

So you decide to go into the cafe you were supposed to meet at, ignoring the sign at the front (lovers cafe <3)

The bell sings as you walk in, and the woman at the counter turns at the sound.

You walk up to order and she shakes her head

"You can't order until you complete the tradition," she says, gesturing to the door and a mistletoe hanging over it

Jeno now realizes what his stupid friends have done, but he smiles at you sheepishly

"What do you say?"

To which you immediately lean in and give him a kiss

Haechan

Honestly he probably hung it himself 😭

Like the two of you had recently gotten together and he just always wanted to be kissing you

The boys had invited you over to the dorm for a Christmas movie marathon, and Hyuck decided to take the decorations into his own hands

(Yes it got a little awkward when Jungwoo came to borrow one of their plates and there was mistletoe everywhere, and yes the boys groaned about it but gave him kisses on the cheek under every plant)

"Welcome yn, to our holiday wonderland," he says dramatically

"It's literally a stinky apartment with lights hung everywhere."

"Shut up Chenle, oh would you look at that, we're under mistletoe!"

So obviously you oblige the tradition, giving him a sweet peck before continuing your walk to the couch

"Oh look another one!"

You check the ceiling to make sure he isn't lying, but lean in to give him a kiss anyway

"Woah looks like another kiss for me!"

By the third time you know he's doing it on purpose, and you look forward to see at least five more plants hung between your current spot and the living room

"We tried to stop him."

You laugh, but give him a kiss under each one because he worked so hard for it <3

Jaemin

He gives zero ducks, he'll take any opportunity to kiss you

Even when you wish he wouldn't

Why, you may ask, would you ever not want to get Jaemin's kisses?

The answer: because you're in front of his entire family 😃

Why they hung mistletoe at the Na family Christmas, you may never know

Possibly because everyone else in his family was just as lovey-dovey as he was

But it was fine for everyone else THEY WERE MARRIED AND HAD KIDS

This was your first time ever meeting his whole family, and Jaemin's extra ass was apparently trying to make it as mortifying as possible

"Babyyy," he calls out as you stand talking to his mom

You smile apologetically at his mother before turning as he approaches

"What?"

"You're under the mistletoe!"

You look up to see the cursed plant before turning back to your boyfriend with pleading eyes

"Not in front of your mom, please."

He just smiles that sweet smile before DIPPING YOU LIKE A TANGO DANCER and planting a long kiss on your lips

Your face is on fire when he stands you back up

"I can't even look at your mother right now. I hate you."

So he kisses you again

Chenle

Listen he has the softest spot for you 🥹

Home alone? Never ending kisses, he's telling you how happy you make him, playing with your hair, everything

But not in front of his members 🫡 (which they know)

They were messing with him, but you were in on it 🤭

"Lele, look!"

He looks up where you're pointing, seeing the mistletoe before immediately glaring at the other boys who have gathered around

They all have the biggest grins in their faces as if this was the best thing they'd ever experienced..

But he notices the too-innocent smile on your face telling him you are in on it, which in his book is a worse offense than the boys planning it

"Is Lele shy?" Jaemin coos, which only makes the younger boy more flustered

He decides it's only fair that you feel just as embarrassed

So before the boys can tease him anymore he straight up just grabs the back of your neck and basically slams his lips into yours

Whew he's so hot... uh anyways

As soon as he releases you you're letting out nervous giggles and hiding your face in his neck because HOW DID THIS BACKFIRE ON YOU SO HARD

The guys can't even make fun of him anymore so they just groan and disperse into their own rooms

To which Chenle then teases you (and gives you many more kisses)

Jisung

Poor guy 😭

He just wanted to take you to the Christmas party so he could share hot chocolate and maybe hold your hand underneath the table

BUT SOMEONE THOUGHT ITD BE FUNNY TO HANG MISTLETOE AS DECORATION

The two of you are sitting at your table, watching Hyuck and Jeno dance unnecessarily aggressively to Jingle Bells when he asks if you want a snack

So you get up and make your way over to the cookie table bc yum Christmas cookies

But when you get there jaemin lets out a dramatic gasp

"JISUNG YOU BROUGHT THEM UNDER THE MISTLETOE YOU LITTLE RASCAL"

He immediately looks up, staring at the offending plant

"I didn't- I didn't do it on purpose yn! I promise!"

You just laugh, "I know you didn't, it's okay."

So you grab your cookies and head back to the table, kiss-less

"Dang you're really not going to kiss them?" Jaemin asks, looking over where you're staring at the cookies on your plate

"Well not in front of you!"

With that Jisung walks away, forgetting to grab cookies for himself

"Yn," he whisper calls, and you look up to see him gesturing you to the hallway

You follow him, stepping out into the brighter lit and much quieter hall.

"Did you need a break?" You're used to him sneaking off from crowded places to recenter

"No."

"Oh, then what's—"

He cuts you off by pressing his lips into yours, hand on the back of your head

He has a pink hue on his cheeks when he pulls away, and he refuses to look you in the eyes

"I wanted to kiss you, just not in front of him."

#nct dream reactions #nct dream headcanons #nct dream scenarios #mark lee scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream fluff #renjun x reader #lee jeno scenarios #nct jaemin scenarios #haechan x reader #nct dream chenle scenarios #nct jisung scenarios #nct mark x reader #jeno x reader #park jisung x reader #jaemin x reader

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autisticshadowthehedgehog · 6 months ago

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OK Guys. I get the skepticism esp after the Knuckles disaster, but we also need to keep in mind "this is a trailer that won't spoil literally everything about the movie." ESPECIALLY in regards to GUN. They're not gonna put in the trailer "the military shot a little girl and that's why Shadow is mad so Sonic is going to never work with them ever." That's a great way to get parents to bring their kids to the theater, especially in America. (/s)

It's WAY more effective as a plot twist halfway through, where Sonic thinks that he's finally being accepted onto Earth via working with the government only to find out that they're exploiting him and Shadow the same. I can't guarantee this is gonna happen obviously but it's like a 90% chance just knowing how, like. writing works.

Esp considering the government has not had a good track record in the last two movies, I dunno if they'd do a heel-face turn into "actually they were always right" in the movie where a little girl needs to get shot by the government.

And I'm not gonna say "trust and form a parasocial relationship with a film director" but we should keep in mind that Jeff Fowler got his start working on Shadow's title game and has stated in interviews that he understands how important Shadow's backstory is to his character. Not to mention how the internet has been exploding the last two years with enthusiasm over this story actually getting shown onscreen, enough that a studio would fucking notice at the very least that this is what the people want. I can't guarantee they'll actually listen, but saying that they're absolutely not because "Sonic was in a GUN helicopter in the trailer" is insane. Especially with the fact that GUN is not with Sonic when he goes to Eggman. We just see Team Sonic alone meeting with Stone, and I will bet you it's because there's no way in hell GUN would let them near him, what with the Robotnik connections to the ARK.

Also the Gerald thing is rather worrying, esp with the lack of shit they gave Pachacamac in the miniseries, but honestly I think that was just a marketing push of "Jim Carrey will be playing TWO characters!!!" Considering he's only seen in one trailer scene AT the ARK (where all of Gerald's technology was and, more importantly, where the Eclipse cannon he needs someone to set off is) AND we know from movie 2's credits scene that there was a fifty-year timeskip, I severely doubt that's the real Gerald who's just completely unaffected by his granddaughter being murdered.

And ofc there's things to be concerned about in the trailer. The lack of Rouge for instance– I obviously keep posting my theory that Krysten Ritter's character will be her undercover but the fact we don't know how much time she'd actually have with Shadow, if at ALL, is worrying. The fact that Rouge might not be here period. The weird pacing of the Knuckles show and the fear that could bleed over into the movie. But there's also stuff to get excited about– the epic fight scene choreography, the brief glimpse we got of Maria and Shadow's bond. Reeves's voice actually fits Shadow and at least from what the trailer showed us it looks like the Green Hills storyline is taking a backseat to the action and mystery of Project Shadow.

tl;dr guys calm down for like five minutes. if the movie sucks in december we can riot then. right now let's just band together against mufasa

#sonic movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog 3 #sonic 3 #sonic cinematic universe #sonic the hedgehog #scu #sth #shadow the hedgehog #mine

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awrkive · 3 months ago

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Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship?

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed.

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door.

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face.

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back.

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears.

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit…

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice.

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.”

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him.

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown.

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind.

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.”

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?”

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.”

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people.

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to.

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align.

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you.

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more.

He wants more with you.

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings.

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about.

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately.

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.”

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?”

You pout. “Yeah.”

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say.

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?”

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment.

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?”

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you.

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him.

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well.

“Yep.”

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him.

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet.

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen.

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt.

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.”

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.”

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.”

“Tough.”

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.”

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae.

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?”

“Taehyung told me.”

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily.

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up.

Your answer takes awhile.

“I was… getting help with estimates.”

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.”

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not.

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.”

“Then why come to him and not me?”

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck.

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system.

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?”

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest.

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle.

Jungkook meets your gaze.

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move.

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well.

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.”

“Sorry for not telling you myself.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat.

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again.

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #fic: grumpy!jk #p; drabbles #jungkook scenarios

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satorusugurugurl · 10 months ago

Note

Ermmm. Speaking from my current experience. How would jjk boys (gojo geto nanami toji and choso) react to after a *session* finding out reader didn’t finish bc they hear her trying to use her toys to get off.

Lmao my bf is mad and went to sleep but I’m like … there could be more done 😆

JJK Men: You Didn’t Finish? Let Me Help You.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kamo Choso, FAB!Reader

Warnings: smut, sex toys, language, dirty talk, smutty smut!

Word Count: 7,477

A/N: This literally took a life of its own! Love it! It was super fun!! Thank you Nonnie!! (hope you BF wasn't that mad, but really there could have been lots more fun to be had! But I feel like we've all been there!) 💚

Gojo Satoru:

You loved it when Gojo came home after a long mission. He was usually feral, throwing open the door, all but tackling you as he went to unbutton your pants. When he came home like this, he needed to fuck in the nastiest of ways. Not that you’d complain you were usually as pent up as he was.

This time, well, Gojo was even more pent-up than usual. He caught you in the laundry room, bending you over the dryer. He slid your leggings and panties down before sliding his cock over your pussy, teasing your entrance, rubbing his tip against your clit.

All you needed was a few kisses on your neck his deep voice in your ear, and you were wet and ready for him. He fucked you fast, deep, and hard. It felt so good, his cock slamming into your g-spot, as the vibrations from the running dry stimulated your clit. This was new and exciting. To be wanted this bad, for him to fuck you right where he found you, you loved it!

Your boyfriend loved it just as much as you because his cock throbbed hard inside of you right when you were beginning the climb toward your release. You felt his cum spurting inside of you as he whined, his pace slowing down, slowly fucked his cum inside of you. Satoru groaned slowly, pulling out of you, spreading your cheeks, watching his cum leaking out of your pretty cunt.

“Fuuuck, I needed that.” You were panting, gripping the sides of the dryer, waiting for him to do something, anything to make you cum. “Mmm.” To your utter disappointment, Satoru smacked your ass and started walking out. “I'm going to shower; when I'm done, let's order dinner. I'm beat.”

For a moment, you thought he was fucking with you. That he just wanted you to complain about not cumming, to beg for it. But looking over your shoulder at him, you saw how tired he was. He had pulled his blindfold down, pooling around his neck, allowing you to see the dark circles under his eyes. The exhaustion on his face wasn't from sex. It was from the mission.

How could you bother him to help get you off? You were fully capable of taking care of yourself. You just grinned, pulling your leggings off and tossing them into the washer. “I like the sound of that. Go ahead and wash up; I need to finish this.” And yourself. “Then we’ll order food.” Without any questions, Gojo stripped out of his clothes, tossing it in with yours.

“Sounds like we got ourselves a stay-in date.” Your boyfriend's lips pressed firmly against your cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Toru.”

The second you heard him head into the bathroom, shutting the door, you hurried. He took about a five to ten-minute shower. So that gave you more than enough time to cum. Opening the nightstand drawer, you pulled out your wand vibrator before lying in bed, your eyes darting toward the bathroom door.

Wasting no time, you pressed the wand over your clit, turning it on its highest setting. Your hips jerked forward as a whine passed through your lips. Fuck you were still worked up, pussy clenching, thinking about how Satoru fucked you just minutes before. That was the perfect thought to lose yourself in as your clit was twitching under the pleasant vibrations.

God, if he weren’t so tired, you would have begged him for more. You take you on the dryer, the floor, fuck even the wall. You missed him; god, you missed the soft tufts of his white hair, the smell of fresh sheets and musk. The need to have him bullying his cock inside of you was so strong it had you dipping your hands between your legs. Fingers pushing through your tight entrance, attempting to make you feel as good as Satoru did.

They were nothing compared to Satoru. His fingers reached places you never could. While it wasn’t what you wanted right now, that being your boyfriend's fat cock, it would suffice. You cried out softly as you curled your fingers up, just barely grazing your g-spot.

“Mmnh fuck, oooh fuck.” You could feel yourself climbing towards your orgasm. “T-Toru, yes, yes~.”

Just when you were about to cum, the door to the bathroom flung open. Satoru stood there, leaning against the door frame as you threw your vibrator to the side of the bed. What you failed to do was take your fingers out of your cunt just as fast.

“S-Satoru!”

He took in your form, shaking his head with a sigh. “Most people would wait for the shower to start running before they start masturbating, right after their boyfriend fucked them.” He strode forward, his throbbing dick standing at attention. “But my sweet, not so innocent girl. She starts fucking herself when I’m in the other room.” He walked around the bed, picking up your still buzzing vibrator. “Was one time not enough for you?” Gojo got on the bed, cerulean eyes burning with furious lust.

“I-I well,” words evaded you, “I uhm—“

“Tsk,” he crawled on top of you, pressing the vibrator against your clit. You arched your back off the bed, whimpering. “Such a little slut, trying to make yourself cum right after I fucked you. Well, go on, do it, little slut.”Satoru pressed the vibrator harder against your clit. “Cum again, then maybe I’ll make you cum a third, fourth, maybe even a fifth time. Seeing that you want to cum so bad after I just made you.”

You tried pulling away, but Satoru grabbed your hip with his free hand, holding you in place. “I-I didn’t!”

“Oh, don’t try to lie to me; I caught you red-handed.” The hand you had been fingering yourself with was snatched. “Look at that, still wet and slick with both our cum.” Your boyfriend took your cum slick fingers in his mouth, sucking on them while his eyes burned holes into your skin.

“Y-Your cum.” Satoru stopped sucking, glancing down at your flushed face. “I-I didn’t finish.”

From the expression on his face, your poor boyfriend went through the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. His mouth opened and shut like a fish before he pulled the vibrator away.

“You didn’t cum?!” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you say something?!” Being questioned like this, right after he caught you beating off, wasn’t the conversation you wanted to have. Groaning softly, you sat up, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re exhausted, and I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle alone.”

“You seriously think me getting you off is a bother?” He touched your shoulders, shoving you back against the bed. “Sweetheart, I get off on making you cum.”

“T-Toru, I-I can do it. You should re-A-Ahh!” Satoru’s cock is pushing it’s way forcefully inside your cunt. “Oooh, of fuck!”

His lips slammed against yours as he pushed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit. “Baby~ you feel so good~ fuck, your pussy is so fuckin’ tight. Ah~! Ah~ fuck~ does that feel good baby?” Stars, you saw stars as he pulled out, stopping just before the tip slipped out before he slammed back into you harder.

“Oh, my fuck!!” You cried out as he repeated his pace, fucking you, pressing the vibrator firmly against you. “O-Oh god, feels s-so good when you slide inside!”

Satoru chuckled with a groan. “Oh, I know it does~” His hot breath fanned over your lips, “I felt that tight cunt clamp down each time I thrust.” You dug your nails into his shoulders.

God, the smell of him washes over you as he kisses and sucks on your neck. Teeth grazing the overly sensitive skin as you wrap your leg around him, pushing him deeper inside of your aching pussy. You were losing control over yourself, and Satoru wasn’t doing any better. His cock was already throbbing; his eyes screwed tight as he pushed himself further into the mattress, deeper inside of you.

Hearing you scream, feeling the vibrations while he fucked you, your soaking walls that were eagerly milking him, had him feeling like he was eighteen again. Satoru never got over how good your gummy walls felt. How you pussy didn’t want him to leave, how it tried to pull him back in. Having sex with you was something that constantly changed and grew into something more. Something more profound.

“Gah—! Fuck!” Satoru cried out against your kiss-swollen lips. “You’re so close, you’re twitching.” Your blubbering whines confirmed what he knew. “That’s right, cum for me~ cum all over this fat fucking cock.”

“C-cumming ah~ ah~ Satoru!!” With his hips angled, hitting your sweet spot with every brutal thrust, you clamped down on him. But it was the sweet buzzing of your vibrator in time with his harsh pace that had you gushing.

Satoru watched the stream of clear liquid squirt out of you. Coating the v-line and happy tail of his crotch, soaking the bed underneath you. Who wouldn’t have been cumming with you after that sight? Satoru stilled, hands digging harshly into your hips, holding you still as his cum filled you. He stayed like that for a long moment. Buried deep inside of you before he collapsed, groaning against your collarbone.

You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. “Fuck, I needed that so bad, thank you.” You watched as Satoru lazily lifted his head, hazy eyes watching you.

“Mm, anythin’ for you.”

The two of you drifted to sleep like that. Any thoughts revolving around showering or dinner were placed on the back burner. The most important thing was that you were finally together again.

Geto Suguru:

“Ah~ nngh, good~ feels good~” You cried out softly as Suguru lazily fucked you. “K-Keep going~”

The bed gently groaned under Suguru’s sleepy thrusts. His arms were wrapped around you, large hands grabbing your breasts. They massaged the soft flesh, groping them, teasing your nipples as he licked and kissed the side of your neck. Mornings where he woke up after having the nastiest dream sex with you, were his favorite kind of sexy mornings.

The morning when you both were stirring, only focusing on the raw instinctual need to cum. These were the times when he didn’t need to focus on the pace or the dirty words he would whisper in your ear. All the two of you could focus on was the sweet pleasure and warmth of each other's bodies.

Suguru cried out against your skin, his cock throbbing deep inside of you. The things you were doing to him in his dream, sucking his cock, riding his face, letting him fuck you on a towel on a faraway beach, it was so good. Too good. When he first slid inside of you, he was dangerously close to the edge. His sexy dream had nearly become a wet dream before he woke up. So it came as no surprise to him that he just needed to feel you, the real you, to reach that sweet climax.

You listened as he huffed and grunted, his hips moving just a bit faster as you felt the warmth of his cum filling you. His load was thick, seeping out of you, sliding down the length of his cock, pooling at the base. Feeling him fill you up this good at six thirty in the morning was the equivalent of a hot shower or a good workout at the gym. You were ready for round two.

Suguru, however, was ready to drift back to sleep. His breathing went from shallow, uneven gasps to deeper and calmer breaths. This wasn’t happening, right? There was no way your husband just lazily fucked you as a form of foreplay just to fall asleep. Your worst fears became a reality as he snored softly into the crook of your neck.

Your pussy clenched in sorrow as his cock remained buried inside of you. If he were anyone else, you would have woken him up, urging him to finish what he had started. Unfortunately for you, Geto Suguru was a deep sleeper. The only thing that would wake him up was either a blood-curdling scream from you or an earthquake. Meaning you were on your own for now. Horny, sleepy, and desperate to cum, and drifted back to sleep in his strong arms.

Luckily, your vibrator was just an arm's length away, resting in the top drawer of your nightstand. With careful and calculated movements, you freed one arm from Suguru’s koala bear grasp and grabbed your best friend. Your clit sucking toy was your favorite toy Suguru bought for you. He knew how much you loved him going down on you, so he bought you the highest-rated toy that would at least come close to mimicking his talented lips and tongue.

The toy was great; you loved using it when your fiance was at work or on a mission. Nothing would ever be able to replace him. Right now, seeing as your husband was out of commission, this toy would have to suffice.

You slid the toy under your shorts, pressing the small opening around your clit before turning it on to the lowest setting. The pulsating hum was low but perfect enough that it had you whining. You were still incredibly turned on from your lazy sex session. Having been so close to release, you knew this setting (or two or three higher) would be all that you needed to cum, seeing as Suguru’s cock was still buried inside of you, his thick load keeping you wet enough.

Your hips jerked, walls clenching around Suguru as your hand came up, clamping firmly over your mouth with a groan. Your pussy twitched As your toes curled; it felt so good. The flutter sensation beginning to build up in your lower stomach had your blood running hot. What would make this even better was if Suguru was up, fucking you with hard and shallow thrusts. Hitting your g-spot, whispering in your ear, telling you to cum on him.

The temptation to push yourself back against him was strong. His thick, girthy cock, was perfect in every way, shape and form. The tip was pressed right against your sweet spot, making you moan louder into your hand. You didn’t want to wake him up; he always worked hard, taking good care of you—the moments when he. Getting to unwind and relax was precious to both of you.

While you were being courteous regarding the volume of your moans. Your pussy was not as well-behaved as the rest of you. She clamped, twitched, and hugged Suguru’s cock. The warm pulsing twitches had Suguru stirring, his eyes slowly opening as his cock jerked inside of you, as he felt the low buzzing sensation of the toy you were using against yourself.

His hand slowly slid over your conjoined bodies, his larger hand wrapping around yours, pressing the toy harder against your throbbing clit. “A-Ah, Sugu~” He hummed, kissing and sucking on your neck. “I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to wake you.” In reality, you weren’t as sorry as you claimed to be.

”Mmm,” Suguru exhaled heavily through his nose, “didn't get enough?”

You shook your head, your hips full back into him, pushing his cock further inside of you. “No, baby, I didn’t cum.” Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed together as you humped his cock gently. “Just give me a few minutes, please; I’m almost there.” Your husband groaned, lifting your leg and draping it over his hip. “Sugu, what—nngh, fuck.” Your toy was tossed to the side, Suguru’s fingers replacing it.

”My princess just told me she didn’t cum.” His voice cracked as he rocked gently into you, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit. “What sort of husband would I be if I made her get off alone.” Teeth dug into your neck before his tongue slid over the stinging mark. “Let me give you a hand.”

Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as Suguru hit your cervix with every thrust. He was so fucking deep; you could feel every thick inch of him spreading you open. His dark eyes peered down, watching his hand working at your clit. He could hear how wet you were, the squelching sounds egging him on.

“Ah~ fuck Sugu~ you know me so well.” you tilt your head back, eyes shutting, losing yourself in the please. “Y-You always hit my g-spot, fuck!”

Your husband cooed, rubbing your clit faster. “Yeah~ you’re going to cum aren’t you~? You keep getting wetter with every thrust, baby.”

“Y-Yeah, fuck yes! Please~ please, Sugu~!”

The rich smell of Suguru’s expensive shampoo wafted over you; his hair fell over your shoulder as he pressed his lips against yours. You reached a hand up, cupping his cheek, moaning as he nipped at your bottom lip, his tongue darting out, tracing over the spot before sliding his tongue into your mouth as he fucked into you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You didn't even have a chance to warn him that you were cumming. You just cried out into his mouth as he massaged your tongue with his own. As the rolling waves of pleasure rocked through you, Suguru’s pace faltered, becoming messy sloppily as his ball tightened. Spurts of warm cum filled your aching hole, filling you up to the brim.

“Mmm,” Suguru pulled his mouth away from yours, spit connecting your tongues, “does my needy girl feel better~?”

“Mhmm~” you hummed happily, snuggling back against him. “Felt good.”

All your husband did was wrap his arms tighter around you. He pressed a kiss against your chin before he buried his face in the crook of his neck. Out of all the places he’d seen and been, your king-sized bed, with you in his arms, was his favorite place in the world.

Nanami Kento:

Wet was a bit of an understatement. You were soaking wet when Nanami slammed you up against the door of your apartment. You both were buzzed from the bottle of wine you shared at dinner. The sweet liquid had you rubbing Nanami’s thigh, whispering obscene things in his ear, and had led to him pulling your lace panties to the side as he lifted you, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“You've been such a bad girl.” You groaned over, panting in pure lustful desire as you listened to his buckle being undone.

“Hurry up.” You begged, only to receive a smack on the side of your ass. “Eep!”

“You are in no place to be making any demands.” His words were slightly slurred before he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. “Teasing my cock, whispering those lewd words in my ear.”

The wine had given you liquid courage; you grabbed a handful of blonde hair, tugging it back. “Then take what you want~” The moment those words left your mouth, Nanami was fucking into you.

His thrusts were sloppy, messy, and full of pure need. The wine had him lost in the raw feeling of your tight cunt, the way your walls hugged his cock. Your pussy was so wet, warm, and tight. Nanami whimpered fucking you harder and slamming you against the door.

“Y-Yes! Oh fuck yes! Keeento~!!”

“Oh fuck love, fuck you’re s-so t-tig-gaaahk!”

The familiar sensation of cum filling you drew you out of the wildly erotic moment. Both you and Nanami were stiff. Your sweet, loving boyfriend's face flushed dark red, his eyebrows pinched in tipsy confusion.

“K-Ken? Did you just?”

“I-I—“ he honestly wasn’t sure, but he confirmed his fears as he pulled out. His cock was coated in white cum, the tip dribbling out more as it sadly softened. “F-Fuck, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

When he looked up expecting to be met with an expression of disappointment, he was instead met with your gentle smile as he put you down. “It’s okay; I was teasing you the whole way home.” While you attempted to comfort him, Nanami still felt a twinge of shame.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ken, you’re fine.” Fine was not the way he would describe the way he felt. But you were persistent. “Do you wanna lay down?”

Your boyfriend nodded, sulking towards your room with his head hanging low. “If laying down means I can forget about this whole ordeal, then yes.” He unbuttoned his shirt before lying on his back, watching you closely. “That’s never happened to me before.” A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as you removed your jewelry.

”I made the Kento Nanami experience pre-mature ejaculation for the first time. I’m so honored.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

“Right, sorry, sorry.” Nanami watched as your hips swayed as you approached his side of the bed.

“Seriously, don’t feel too bad about it. I could easily take care of myself if I wanted to. Do you need anything? Like water?” He shook his head, his eyes slowly shutting as he drifted in and out of the waves of his afterglow. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Just as Nanami turned to lay on his side, you reached into the sock drawer of your dresser. Hidden, there was your g-spot toy. You glanced back at the sleepy Nanami before sighing as you tip-toed into the living room, cracking the door shut.

You were still worked up, wet, and horny from the combination of wine and teasing touches on the way home. You didn’t mind that Nanami had finished first, but you couldn’t ignore the aching between your legs. You needed to take care of that ache, or you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

As you lay on the couch, your mind drifted to Nanami. How his large hands gripped your thigh in the car, how his ankle brushed yours at the restaurant. You whined, imagining his cock slipping inside of you as you pushed the toy into your wet pussy. His cock was so girthy and fat it stuffed you; this toy was nothing compared to him. But it would get the job done.

You twisted the end of the toy, turning the vibrations on; the sweet lazing immediately stimulated your sweet spot, making you arch. Fuck it felt good, especially when you began thrusting it in and out of your tight heat. You were so tight and needy, longing for an orgasm that would tide you over until Nanami was able to fuck the life out of you.

God, you wanted him; you wanted him so bad. The need for his cock to plunge in and out of you. To have him tugging and pulling on your hair, to choke you. The raw desire for him had your moans increasing in volume. Maybe it was the wine or the horny need that had you gasping as if your boyfriend wasn’t in the other room.

Oh, and Nanami heard. How could he not listen to you whimpering and crying out his name? The buzzing from your toy had his cock throbbing back to life. He couldn’t just let you handle this on your own. His legs, while still shaky, moved with a purpose. He flung open the bedroom door and stormed off to the living room, where the sight of you had his pace faltering.

Your legs were spread, the vibrant pink vibrator was moving in and out of you, coated in a milk substance of his cum and your slick. The same sticky substance coated the inside of your supple thighs, making you look even more erotic. Seeing you in such a vulgar scene had Nanami stripping out of his clothes.

“Fuuuck~ fuck yes~ K-Kento~!” Your head was tilted back, eyes shut as you imagined Nanami inside you. His lips and teeth dug into your skin. “Ahh fuck~!”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you could care for yourself.” The deep voice of your boyfriend was the only warning you got before the toy was yanked out of you and clattered to the floor.

Your eyes went wide as the toy was replaced with the fat girthy cock you had been imagining. “Haaah!” A breathless yelp escaped you as you met Nanami’s honey-brown eyes. “K-Kento!” He groaned, his cock slowly slipping in and out of you. “Fuck~!” He smirked, kissing your neck.

“Mhmm lover, your pussy is hugging me. Were you that desperate for my cock?” All you managed to do was cry out as you nodded. “Such a desperate girl~ but that toy is nothing compared to me, right?”

“N-No, it’s not!” You whined, gripping his shoulders as the couch creaked under his thrusts. “N-Nothing c-compared to you, Kento!”

Skin slapped against the skin, Nanami groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “Fuck~ fuck, your pussy feels so good~ it’s so wet, love, so fucking wet~” Nanami kissed and sucked onto your shoulder, biting the skin as hard as he could, drawing out a pleasurable gasp from you. “G-gonna make you cum this time.” His words were mumbled as he bit into another part of your skin. “M-make up for last time.” your toes began to curl as Nanami reached down, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“Y-You don’t have to make up for last time—“ Nanami’s cock throbbed, rubbing against your g-spot. That, in time, with his thumb on your clit had the coil tightening in your abdomen. “I-I’m close, oh god, I’m close!” Your legs began violently shaking as your pussy tightened, heat rushing through you. “K-Kento! Keeento!!”

You came hard, so incredibly hard a scream ripped through your throat as tears filled your eyes. Nanami’s cock twitched, his hips stilling as your pussy convulsed around him, drawing out a second orgasm from him as you rode the waves of yours. His hips jerked, pussy hi load intense of you, working the both of you down from your highs. It was until beads of sweat ran down his chilled ab’s that he finally came to a stop.

His breath was hot against your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. He slowly pulled away, smiling ever so sweetly at you. “Fuck I needed that.” The sheer relief and exhaustion in your tone had Kento grinning, lifting you, and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Well, I hope you’re ready for more. Because I’m ready for round three.”

Toji Fushiguro:

You were minding your own business scrolling through your phone when your boyfriend came into the room. He said nothing; he only grabbed your pajama pants and yank them off. You giggled in between moans as rubbed your clit before sliding his spit-coated cock inside of you.

“Ah, ~ rough day at w-work?” You gasped out, throwing your head back against the pillows as Toji grunted in response. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” The words held all the truth; you did feel bad that he had a rough day. You also loved it, though. Days like these, when he came home all pent up and frustrated, were the days he fucked the breath out of you.

He got to work off pent-up frustration while you got to get fucked into the mattress. It was truly a win-win for the two of you.

”Fuck, fuck yeah,”. Toji sighed, kissing the leg that was draped over your shoulder. “I missed your fucking pussy all day.” His thick, strong fingers dug into your other leg that was wrapped over his hip. “Kept dreaming about filling it up, painting the insides white. Nnngh, you’re such a fucking good little slut for me.”

You hummed drunkenly in response, back arching as you tried to keep up with his fast-paced thrusts. “Mhmm, I’m glad I could be a good dream for you, Toji.” Cock throbbing inside of you, Toji let out a needy growl, bucking his hips faster, cock hitting every sweet spot buried deep inside of your cunt.

“Y-Yeah, you’re the best dream a guy could ever have.” Those sweet words had you reaching your hand down, rubbing your clit as he fucked you deeper, faster. “That’s it, look at my slutty little girlfriend. Making herself cum all over my cock.”

“C-Close, Toji! P-Please!”

“M-Me too~! Me too~!”

Toji sunk his teeth into the side of your leg as his thrusts lost all sense of rhythm as he began cumming inside of you, fucking himself through his orgasm. All while you tried to follow up, rubbing your clit faster, bucking your hips up against him. But as the sensations of hot cum filled you, your stomach was filled with disappointment as your orgasm evaded you. Toji grunted, resting his head against you, his eyes shut tight as he felt your walls twitch.

You reached up, stroking his head, humming as he slowly sat up. He liked fucked out of his mind as he licked at his lips. But behind that fucked out look, you could swear there was desire. A desire for more, to keep going until the two of you couldn’t breathe. A desire that you might just be able to reach that orgasm you had failed to grasp moments before.

Toji leaned down, kissing you deeply, his cock twitching deep inside of you. You were just about to wrap your legs around his hips, to pull him in deeper, to encourage him to keep fucking into you, when his phone rang. He glowered at it, sitting on the nightstand. You turned his head to focus on you instead, your hands trailing up his chest, your thumbs brushing over his nipples. But his damn phone kept ringing. Whoever was calling was desperate to get a hold of him.

Toji snarled, snatching the phone off the nightstand and answering it. “I’m in the middle of something pretty fuckin’ important. What?!” The other voice on the line sounded much like Shiu’s shot back a shout. Toji’s eyes went wide, taking in the words before he smirked. You knew that expression.

“Paid up already? Ha, awesome, cool, yeah, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“What was that about?” You asked as Toji slipped out of you. “What happened?”

Toji slipped his half-hard cock back into his pants. “Client already has money for a job I just did. Six figures, baby. They want to take me and Shiu to dinner.” Wait? Seriously, he was leaving?!

“B-But!”

“It should be fast. I’ll be back before you know it.” Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll have round two.”

“But—“ You watched in despair and anger as Toji headed out of the apartment, shutting the door. “I didn’t finish.” You pouted, plopping back down on the bed.

Toji must have been out of it to have not realized that. Plus, he just left! But he was bringing home the big bucks so you couldn’t complain. There was always tonight; maybe he’d let you sit on his face as an apology once you told him. The aching pulse between your legs, however, wanted to be satisfied now. It couldn't wait for god knows how long Toji would be out.

So, without any hesitation, you reached under your bed, pulling out your container of sex toys. You pulled out your vibrating dildo and a bottle of lube before sitting up at the head of the bed. Wasting no time, you lubbed the clean toy before slowly working it into yourself with a harp inhale. It felt good, not as good as Toji, but it would get the job done.

Your pace was fast and hard; you attempted to match Toji’s. But that was humanly impossible. The man fucked like a god, nearly sending you to the afterlife with each orgasm. So you managed to do the best you could, which didn’t feel bad at all. Your pace had your eyes rolling back as you curved the toy, rubbing it against your g-spot before you turned it on.

The vibrations were strong. So strong it sent you to your own personal heaven of pleasure. You propped your legs up, spreading them wide as your thrusts increased in speed, while your free hand gripped the sheets, tugging at them gently. The pleasure was so overwhelming, so stifling, that you never heard the apartment door open. You were a moaning mess, and that’s what Toji heard as he looked around for his phone.

He’d stopped, eyes drifting towards the room as the wet squelching and buzzing sounds flooded the apartment. Following the noise, he peeked into the bedroom, finding you fucking yourself with a dildo. Your pussy was hugging it just like it had done to his dick. And you looked like you were enjoying it, but not as much as you wanted his dick.

Toji entered the room, taking full advantage of you and rolling your eyes back. He hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he got a heater view of you pathetically trying to fuck yourself, into an orgasm. His poor, sweet girl. It would just be cruel to continue to watch.

Your eyes jolted open as a large hand swatted yours away, gripping the toy that was buried in your cunt, while the other hand pushed your legs

Further apart. “T-Toji!” You yelled out as he began fucking the toy into you with a sadistic smirk.

“Looks like you needed a hand.” His deep voice had you clenching around the toy with a whine of our need. “Me makin’ ya’ cum once wasn’t enough, huh? I was gone for five minutes. Missed me that much.” He jabbed the toy against your spot with ever-calculated thrusts.

“Oooh! Oooh fuck oh my goo-ah ah!” You screamed, your hand gripping the sheets tightened while the other tangled in black strands of hair. “Ah~! Agggh! I -I didn’t cum! I-I couldn’t w-wai-fuck! Wait for tonight!”

Toji’s pace didn’t falter, but his eyes widened for a second. “Well, ya’ should’ve said something, honey. I would have made you cum.” He learned over your leg. “I can’t fuck you, but I’ll at least make you cum for now.” He kept fucking the dildo inside of you as he knelt over you, flicking his tongue over your clit.

“Gahhhk!” You screamed as Toji chuckled over your clit with a hum. “T-Toji! T-Toji!!” You arched your back as your mouth fell open into an ‘O’ shape as your toys curled. “D-Don’t stop! P-please, don’t stop!”

Toji was nowhere close to stopping, not when you were so close. He healed his scarred lip over your throbbing clit, sucking, flicking, and nibbling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. He drew you closer and closer to the edge, and it was him rubbing your g-apt with the vibrating tip that was your undoing. You screamed out loud, bucking your hips into his face as you squirted a clear stream of liquid all over his chin.

You were crying at the intensity of the orgasm as Toji gently worked you down. He glanced over you as his tongue dared over his lips, licking your juices off with a smirk. Your body trembled and shook how you gasped madly for air. It was a sight he loved to see.

“There ya’ go.” He said, pulling the toy out and placing it on the nightstand. “I’ll be home in a little bit.” You grumbled in response, struggling to keep your eyes open as Toji pulled a blanket over your half-naked body. “Get some sleep.” He kissed your forehead, grabbing his phone off the bed. “Because you’re gonna need all the rest you can get for what I have planned for you tonight.”

Choso Kamo:

Two weeks you had been on a mission for two long weeks. Which meant you had been away from your sweet loving boyfriend and his long cock for two weeks. So, of course, the second you got home, you begged for him to fuck you. He eagerly agreed, fucking you on the floor of the entryway. The two of you hadn’t even passed there before you were ripping each other's clothes off.

“A-Ah! C-Choso!” You cried out as he slammed his fist on the wooden floor, fucking you deeper. “Ahh!” His brutal thrusts drew out a scream from you as his other hand palmed your breasts.

“Missed you, god I missed you so much.” He mumbled over your collarbone, sucking and licking your skin. “I missed you so much, babe.”

“C-Cho!”

He gritted his teeth as you clenched down on him. “Oh~ good god, I-I edged myself a-all week waiting for this.”

Hearing him say that had your stomach and pussy fluttering. It had just been a suggestion in passing. You mentioned to Choso that edging yourselves when you were separated would be fun. You, of course, had done it, working yourself to the edge before stopping your movements. You had no idea Choso would be doing the same thing.

It made your heart soar as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. God, what did you do to deserve such a sweet and sexy man in your life?! Your walls fluttered around him, and Choso shut his eyes tight at the overwhelming pleasure.

Something you failed to mention to him was that edging would make him overly sensitive. More so than usual. His nails dug into the wood, scrapping at it as you whined and whimpered into the crook of his neck. Everything was too much to handle, too much to bear. Feeling your skin against his, hearing your cries of pleasure, your scent, all of it was way too much. He had been doomed from the moment you kissed him when you got home.

Choso pulled back just enough that he was able to put into your neck as his cock throbbed, cum spilling inside of you. His sudden bite as his cum filling you had you clenching against him, so hard Choso thought you had come with him. A satisfied groan sounded from your neck as he gently bucked into you, riding out your (his orgasm).

You both lay there on the floor of the entryway, panting heavily. Choso’s teeth left your skin, and he kissed it gently before looking into your eyes. You were smiling, gently reaching out, pushing his bangs out of his face as he slowly pulled out of you. He cleared his throat, and he helped you stand, sighing as the dropping adrenaline had him feeling drowsy.

“I-I didn’t think I’d cum that fast.” He said in a timid tone as you giggled. “B-But you were right. It did feel good, like a hundred orgasms in one.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Choso nodded sleepily as he wrapped his arms around you. “Welcome home, baby.” You could feel his muscles relax as he held you in his arms. He sounded like he was exhausted from the sound of his voice.

“Glad to be back.” You whispered as the two of you headed into the bedroom. Choso collapsed onto the mattress, holding his arms out for you to join him, but you shook your head, holding up your duffle bag. “I need to unpack and shower real quick. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Choso gave you a sleepy nod before shutting his eyes. You returned his smile, heading into the bathroom and closing the door with a heavy sigh. You were still on the edge, not having reached that sweet, blissful release you’d been working yourself up to for the last couple of weeks. There was always tomorrow. Once you both slept well, you held out for two weeks; what would another eight hours do?

As you started the shower and began unpacking your toiletry bag, your thoughts were blank for the most part. Your brain was moving on autopilot mode. Put away your travel-sized bottles, your hair brush, and skincare products. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom of the bag that you snapped out of the trance you had found yourself in. At the bottom was your bullet vibrator, sealed in its velvet travel bag with the toy cleaner.

You pulled out the clean toy, eyeing it in your palm before your eyes darted towards the door. One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? Choso was so tired he might be sleeping. You stared at your reflection before finally carving in. If you were quiet enough, Choso never needed to know that you hadn’t finished, then tomorrow it would be like nothing happened.

You wasted no time sliding the vibrator down between your legs. You turned it on low speed with the little remote. It buzzed to life, bouncing off the walls as you whimpered softly. The vibrations were so good and vital that you knew it wasn’t going to take very long for you to cum. You chewed on your bottom lip, losing yourself in the pleasurable sensations, unaware that Choso was standing just outside the door, staring at it in confusion.

Your sweet boyfriend fully intended to nap while waiting for you to unpack. But the moment he heard the shower start and your lovely, soft humming, he stood up. Why would he stay in bed when he would be showering with you? Feeling your smooth, silky skin under his hands as he lathered you with soap and massaged tension out of your muscles.

Naps could wait; shower sessions were more important than sleep.

So, of course, as he stood in front of the bathroom door naked, listening to the buzzy hum of a sex toy, he was confused. Like why would you be using a toy right after the two of you just made love? And why would you be doing it without him helping you out? He loved making you cum, whether it be from his tongue, finger, dick, or the use of your toys.

Choso didn’t even bother knocking on the door; he just pushed it open, finding you hunched over the counter, hand between your legs, as the silver bullet toy buzzed over your clit. Your eyes went wide, but you didn’t move your hand away from your wet sex. You couldn’t not when you were so close. Choso just walked into the bathroom, stepping to stand behind you, rubbing his throbbing cock over your entrance.

“C-Choso~”

“I can help you, ya’ know.” He said softly before gently pushing inside of you. “All you needed to do was ask.” You whimpered as his thick cck stretched you open, your knees buckling. “I wouldn’t have minded going another round.”

His hand joined yours holding the vibrating toy harder over your clit. “I-I ah! Fuck I know, I’m sorry! Y-You came, and I didn’t; you just looked so tired I didn’t want to ask you to overexert yourself.” Choso’s eyes met yours in the mirror as he began fucking into you with a groan.

“I’m never tired when it comes to you. I’m always willing to keep going until you are fully satisfied.” His cock slid in and out of you faster as his free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it.

”I-I fuck s-so-fuckin’ good Choso!” You gasped out a shaky cry of pleasure. “Feels so good, please baby more.”

“Yeah, I feel you clenching.” His hips were grinding into you, rubbing your g-spot as he helped you rub the buzzing bullet up and down over your clit. “Are you going to cum for me? Going to squirt?”

“Y-Yes Choso! Yes, I’m so close!”

He let go of the toy at your warning. Both his hands gripped your hips, using them as leverage to pound into you at full force. He was hitting every spot you loved while your bullet buzzed. The combination of all these factors had you cumming for the first time in two weeks. You came, squirting all over the tiled floor, making your feet slip as you tried to keep a grip on the sink. Your pussy clenched so hard around Choso that he stilled inside of you, cumming even harder than he had in the entryway.

You were so grateful that Choso was holding you up by your hips. If he hadn’t been, you were positive you would have ended up on the ground, a heaping puddle of useless limbs. Choso, who you had thought was tired before, was the first to move. He kissed down your back, gently massaging your hips as you slowly came back to your senses.

“Mm, come on, babe.” He whispered against your skin, slowly helping you shuffle towards the shower. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we can take a nap.” As you stood under the running water with Choso massaging your shoulders, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as he kissed your temple.

It was good to be home.

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