#I wrote this is the middle of the night so I apologise for how... probably not great it is but

[badomensgoodomens]

requesting noah x reader

noah is finally home from tour and the two of you just spend the day cuddling, watching movies and eating snacks

omg omg yes let me cook xoxo

wrote at 10pm on a sunday cut me some slack

__________________________

noah had surprised you in the middle of the night, sleepily climbing into bed. You screamed, ofcourse. A 6'3 muscle man standing at the foot of your bed. terrifying. after you fumbled for the lamp switch, he apologised profusely, soft kisses peppered on your face.

"I said i was sorry" he whines as you groan. you hit his shoulder playfully. "That was NOT funny."

___________

The next morning, you wake before him. The sunlight creeps in, illuminating the soft freckles spread across his skin. you admired the soft pout of his lips, his funky eyebrows, his jaw that is ALWAYS clenched, finally resting.

he cracks a singular eye open, "its rude to stare." you just snicker, tracing the slope of his nose and his jaw. he turns on his side, pulling your warm, soft body towards him. "goodmorning to you too." you say, running your fingers through his hair. you reminisce on the longer version of his hair, you were truly devastated when he cut it. You lay in silence, just cuddling. But it's a good silence, a taking in eachothers presence silence. the room was silent yet the love for eachother was so, so so loud.

noah was once again fast asleep, poor love must be so exhausted from tour. you manage to slip away from him, prepping for a movie marathon. knowing your luck, he'll chose a horror movie and you won't be able to sleep for weeks. (I think he just likes comforting you afterwards. Sick bastard.)

after fixing a small charcuterie(?) Board, and some popcorn, you gently move to his bedside. You comb your fingers through his hair, his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

"Noah.. " you whisper.

He grumbles, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

"Come and watch a movie with me" you whine, annoyed at his sleepiness. He rubs his face, standing up with a sigh. He drags the blanket through the house. You trail behind him, only making a pitstop to yell at folio who had been picking at the food. one by one the boys filter in uninvited. just the nature of living with a bunch of boys. A random horror film plays on the large screen tv. But you're not watching. You're too busy admiring your man.

how long his lashes are, the slight stubble that's growing back, his freckles. God they were your favourite thing about him. He glances down at you, feeling your gaze. you clamber into his lap, back pressed against his chest. He presses a soft kiss on the back of your head, his warm hands splayed out on your tummy. you rest your hands on top of his, leaning back to look up at him. You press small kisses to his jaw.

after a while you fall asleep, sleep coming easier to you when your lover returns. it's his turn to admire you, tracing the shape of your lips, and your rosy cheeks, your soft dimples and petulant pout. its overwhelming. His love for you making him feel dizzy. he thinks about the future. His plan to marry you somewhere with flowers and a nice lake. how you would look in a wedding dress. And how you would look after...

he guides his fingers through your hair, gently ghosting over your scalp. Your hand tightens on his, seeking comfort.

you wake up a few hours later, noah long gone by now. I'm talking head conked back, mouth open, snoring. you giggle to yourself. You notice the others had left by now. Probably returning to slumber.

"Noah.." you poke him, he stirs slightly.

"nowahh" you grumble out.

he stirs, "yep I'm awake what's wrong?" his words are rushed, a testament to how tired he actually is. "cmon, into bed. I'll bring the snacks." he stands up, stretching his long limbs. He patters down the hallway, losing his tshirt along the way. you pack up the dips and cheeses, before finding your way back to your lover. He's already sprawled out on the bed, waiting. "I've missed this." He mumbles. Face down.

"Me? Or the bed."

"the bed."

You throw a pillow at him, he laughs. Pulling you impossibly close.

_______________________

The clock reads 4am and you PRY yourself out of his grip, you roll over, body spread over the open space of the bed. Sweat trickles down your back. Oh how noah hadn't missed this. "babe... go put the cooler on.." he grumbles.

"I'm not going in the dark!!" You whisper-shout

He just grumbles in return. He cracks open a window instead.

he pulls you back into his grip. Pressing sleepy kisses all over your face. you groan against his warm, ink covered skin. his breathing evens out and his face falls flat as he falls asleep again. You huff, sweating your tits off. You peel each layer of clothing off, laying in a bra and underwear. the sheets abandoned at the end of the bed. You were STILL sweaty AF but this man won't leave you alone. Especially after being gone for so long!!!

___________

He wakes up before you, the sight of you in your undergarments dizzying. He rests his head in the crook of your shoulder. Taking in the smell of your moisturiser, and shower gel.

"Mm morning baby" you yawn. light filters into the room, illuminating the lack of nothing between the two.

"never leaving for tour again if this is how I wake up every morning" he grunts, hands snaking around your waist.

"even in winter?"

"just means I get to warm you up."

You throw your head back in laughter as he begins to tickle you relentlessly.

______________________

I know I said I'd cook but lowkey look undercooked 😔

ik ik it's excuse after excuse but after I posted that my requests were open I got hit with the most diabolical family problems and have been putting off writing for a further week. but! I'm slowly easing back into it with the simplest request I could find.

so sorry if this is short, please leave more requests they are great motivation!!!

[fushiglow]

a short fic for the prompt: gojo, megumi + last embrace

i wrote this yesterday so i'm hoping the fortuitous timing is a good omen. time to bring this baby boy home 🖤

thank you for enabling my angsty ass, @miidnightzone, i really enjoyed writing this — hope it hits the spot for you too! i really ran away with this one. it's about 1.5k words and i'm quite proud of what i achieved with it, so i might upload it to my ao3 at some point. we'll see!!

content warning: angst

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I’m sor—’ ‘It’s alright, Tsumiki.’ The girl was near hysterical — and who could blame her when her eight year old brother had disappeared in the middle of the night wearing only his Keroppi pyjamas? Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose in a fruitless attempt to quell the pain behind his eyes. It had been a big jump — probably the longest distance he’d ever attempted to teleport in a single leap — but when the children’s nanny had called in the early hours of the morning using the number dedicated for emergencies, he’d had little choice but to make it. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’ Satoru smiled at Tsumiki in a way he hoped was reassuring. It felt more like a grimace to him. ‘So there’s no need to apologise, is there?’ Cheeks shining with tears, the little girl took a great shuddering breath. Then, faster than Satoru could blink, she stopped crying— —and a pleasant smile found its home on her features instead. It was downright disturbing. Not for the first time, Satoru wondered where Tsumiki had learned such behaviours; how he was supposed to make himself feel safe to the child. ‘Tuck yourself back into bed,’ he said, as softly as he could manage. ‘By the time you wake up in the morning, Megumi will be home safe and sound. Alright?’ Tsumiki gave a tight nod, but hesitated when the children’s nanny placed a hand on her shoulder. Fingers fisting into her pyjama top, she looked at Satoru with wide glassy eyes, searching for something he wasn’t sure he could give her. The Fushiguro siblings were particular about physical contact, starved of it and yet reluctant to seek it out for themselves. Megumi would scratch and hiss if Satoru even dared to ruffle his hair, but Tsumiki seemed to yearn for it even if she didn’t know how to ask for it. The problem was, Satoru didn’t know how to offer it either. These days, he barely even knew how to exist around other humans without Infinity, let alone how to comfort a child with tender affection — how to cradle a small body to his chest and whisper soothing reassurances and make himself soft and warm and safe. Satoru didn’t know how to be a home, but he could track cursed energy better than anyone else. Offering Tsumiki one last grimace, the man with the Six Eyes made himself useful the only way he knew how.

The children’s nanny had been worried about kidnappings — Zen’in sneaking into the compound or something equally ridiculous — but Satoru thought it much more likely that Megumi’s disappearance was related to the little green frogs adorning his pyjamas. Dimly, he realised it probably should have aroused his suspicion when Megumi took a sudden interest in the character after learning about the Ten Shadows. Rather, after Satoru had taught him about the Ten Shadows. Shaking fears of the worst from his head, he searched with renewed focus. Not that it was hard to follow the trail of an eight year old with poor control over his cursed energy. Megumi's residuals were all over the place, tracking all the way — as expected — to the edges of the Gojō estate and beyond. Even without the Six Eyes, it was easy enough to find the boy in the light of the full moon. When he did, however, Satoru needed a moment to piece together what exactly he was looking at. Traces of Megumi’s technique were everywhere, a blot of haphazard shadows over the terrain — like one of the finger paintings he’d brought home from school — but there was no sign of a struggle with a curse. No sign of anyone else either. Only the unique residuals of shadow shikigami. Perhaps the most telling evidence of what had happened, however, was Megumi himself. There were no visible injuries on the boy, save for the dried blood trickling from his left nostril. As Satoru suspected, then. He crouched down next to the boy sprawled out in the dirt, taking in the slow rise and fall of his chest. It was exhaustion, plain and simple, but it was still shocking to see Megumi in that state. What had possessed him to sneak out in the middle of the night and tackle the challenge unaided was beyond Satoru. ‘Does it bother you that much to rely on me?’ he wondered aloud. The response came in the twitch of a nose. Opening one bleary green eye then another, Megumi blinked up at Satoru with a disgruntled expression on his face. All at once, he seemed to recognise the man. ‘Gojō.’ No honorific. He really was out of it then. ‘Look.’ Megumi elaborated no further. Instead, with monumental effort, he raised two trembling hands to touch the tips of his thumbs and forefingers together. Finally, he mumbled the command. ‘Gama.’ Summoned from the shadows — strong in the light of the full moon — a tiny frog sprang forth. Something strange swelled in Satoru’s chest. The feeling caught in his throat, escaping as a gasp rather than the shout of excitement it felt like it wanted to become. He watched the creature hop once, twice. It gave a weak croak before immediately dissipating, bleeding back into the shadows. When he looked at the little boy again, Satoru was smiling. What was truly miraculous, however, was the fact that Megumi was smiling too. It was just a tiny upwards curve of the lips — barely even enough to qualify as a smile — but it was something Satoru had never seen on the boy before. It faltered when the nosebleed started up again.

Megumi had pushed himself too far — or perhaps exactly far enough. Though his cursed energy reserves were well and truly depleted, the fact that he’d managed to summon the frog at all spoke of his growth. Not for the first time, Satoru felt a rush of anticipation for the sorcerer that Megumi would one day become. Strong enough to stand with Satoru. Not just strong either. Yaga would probably scold Satoru for praising Megumi and then scold Megumi for good measure, but Satoru couldn’t help feeling impressed by the tactical intellect the boy had already shown at such a young age. His potential was boundless. ‘Full moon, huh? Smart kid.’ Megumi merely grumbled in response. Looking at the boy, barely able to raise his head off the ground, Satoru understood what was about to happen. It didn’t stop him from asking the question, just in case. ‘Any chance you can stand up?’ When Megumi didn’t even turn to look at him with that dead-eyed stare of his, Satoru sighed, giving in to the inevitable. He reached out, hands hovering over the boy before he snatched them back, hesitating. He didn’t know how to do this. ‘Megumi, I’m going to carry you. Is that alright?’ No response. Satoru swallowed, tentatively reaching out again. ‘I’m going to touch you now, okay?’ The boy didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either. Setting his jaw, Satoru slid his hands under the little body on the ground. Despite the fact that Megumi was as limp as a rag doll, Satoru found it surprisingly easy to hoist him into his arms. Whether that was because the boy was particularly light for his age or simply because Satoru had never held a child before, he didn’t know. When he got to his feet, a head of wild black hair dropped onto his shoulder and Satoru's stomach gave a strange lurch in response. He felt stiff, awkward, with one hand tucked under Megumi’s thighs and the other hovering uselessly at his back. He even started to panic a little. Because as the moment stretched on and Satoru found himself frozen in place still, it started to become painfully clear that he wasn’t built for this. No, Gojō Satoru was built for blowing things up and crushing things down and sometimes doing both things at the same time. The fingers suspended at the place over the boy’s heart were the same fingers capable of levelling an entire city. They were weapons. Could they really be trusted to hold this little life?

Megumi probably didn’t know what he was doing when he reached around Satoru’s neck, clutching at the uniform on his back with small fists. He was probably delirious with exhaustion — probably hallucinating that he was in the arms of his father, perish the thought. Still, Satoru found that it settled him all the same. The weight of that small body pressed against his suddenly felt like a comfort — because he'd almost forgotten that hugs were warm. He let his fingers fall onto the boy’s back and pulled him in close. — It was the first and last time Satoru held Megumi. The only time — because this? The body of a boy he loves in his embrace, strong and tall and brimming with power? This isn’t Megumi. It feels like him, looks like him, sounds like him — but Satoru has been deceived by a devil wearing someone else’s skin before. There are no little hands grabbing at his back, no soft black curls tucked into his neck. The shadows scattered across the ruined landscape are unfamiliar. This isn’t Megumi. The man with the Six Eyes makes himself useful the only way he knows how. Gojō Satoru falls back and raises his weapon.

if you wanna submit a prompt or request, head over to my retrospring — make sure to read the guidelines first!

[angelst4re]

Hello dear Ash! Firstly I have to say that you are an amazing writer, like TRULY and you're such an amazing and sweet person,so kind and caring 😭❤️ilysm.

And i have a request if you don't mind. Umm so i was thinking of a maybe a demon/devil Jamie who would practically be the one sneaking up to your room at nights, talking to you, making you fall in love with the devil, doing as he says and maybe JUST MAYBE after a while things would get heated🫣and well...yk what happens. I remember seeing you post that the works you wrote were becoming routine and u wanted to spice things up so yeah😌 I'll leave all the details to you because you know what to do. LY & THANK YOU🖤🖤🥹

hello lovely!! ahh you're so sweet :') thank you so much!! i'm sobbing, that actually means so much to me, bless you <33

Dance With the Devil - Devil/Demon!Jamie x Reader

summary: in the request :)

warnings: NSFW!! contains smut!! if you're uncomfortable then please don't read, my love <3

notes: i saw this request come through last night and because i couldn't sleep i started writing... at 2am??!! so i apologise if it's quite wild...

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You sat up in your bed, reading a chapter of a book you picked up at the library, watching the time, waiting for the clock to strike 12am. Waiting for him.

For the last 2 months you had noticed something in your life felt… different. You felt like you were being watched, you felt like you were being followed. In situations like this, you should probably feel scared, even worried, but you felt a kind of safety when he was around. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you.

You would wake up in the mornings to find your bedroom windows were slightly opened, sometimes your curtains would also be open, giving him a clear view of you whilst you slept.

You thought for a while about what to do, and by the end of the week you had a plan. You would stay awake and catch him!

You returned home from work and carried out your usual routine, knowing he was about and most likely kept a close eye on you. You ate dinner, took a shower and got ready for bed, but whilst you lied under the covers, you didn’t allow yourself to drift into sleep. You had to stay awake, you had to meet him.

For hours the only sound that filled your room was the ticking of your clock, until you hear a tap on the window. Did he know you were still awake? You didn’t move, you barely even flinched as your window was opened from the outside and he stepped inside.

You rolled over in your bed to face the window, to face him, but you kept your eyes shut.

“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.” He spoke.

You expected him to have a deep, gravelly voice, like one that should belong in a horror movie. But his voice was sweet and gentle.

Not only did he voice surprise you, but his appearance also came as a shock. You were met with black boots, the tops of them covered by fitted black trousers. He wore a black suit jacket, covering a half-buttoned-up white shirt, revealing the edges of two chest tattoos. Even in the darkness of your room you could tell his hair was dirty blonde, and the length came just past his jaw. His eyes were a shade of blue you could only describe as heavenly.

“Hello.” You whispered as you made eye contact with him.

“Hello,” he replied with a slight chuckle, “you waited for me?”

“I wanted to know who was leaving my windows open in the middle of winter,” you explained, sitting up in your bed and signalling for him to sit down with you, “who are you?”

He smirked before replying,

“Darling, I’m the Devil.”

For weeks he would visit you, sometimes you would stay up and wait for him, other times you would have fallen asleep before he arrived.

You would speak for hours, until the sun rose and he had to leave. You speak about your day, your work, but you would also talk about power, how the world’s leaders were corrupt, and he would tell you his plans to change the world. And he wanted you by his side.

You became obsessed with him, you would do anything he would ask you. You would sit and wait for him every night, regardless of other plans, whether you were tired or not, you would wait for him.

You had never been in love before, you had never dated, you have never even kissed anyone before. At school you only had two, maybe three, friends who you had lost over the years. You interacted with other people at work, but you wished you didn’t have to. You only wanted him.

You wanted to be with him all the time, but he would only appear after the sun set. You check on your phone to see when the sun would set each day, you would then rush home and wait.

You looked back up at your clock and saw it was finally time. He was on his way.

*tap tap*

*tap tap tap*

You pushed back the blankets on your bed and stumbled over to the window, opening it wide for him.

You needed to see him today, you had a shitty day and you needed someone to talk to about it, and you knew he would sit and listen.

“Hello, angel.” He smiled once he was inside.

“Hello, sir.”

He examined your face, noticing something was different. You were sad?

He placed his finger under your chin and made you look up at him. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” He asked

“Oh, Jamie.” You sighed, sitting back down on your bed, “I’ve had a terrible day.”

“What happened?” He asked, following you and sitting beside you.

“I think I’m going to lose my job, my boss wants to talk to me tomorrow and I know business hasn’t been doing too well these last few weeks so-“

“Shhh,” he calmed you as you began to get overwhelmed, “sweetheart, you know that’s irrelevant, you shouldn’t have to worry about something like that. When I get my way, you and I are going to be the king and queen of this pathetic world, we’re going to be Gods to these people, and you won’t have to work another day in your life.”

You nod your head, sniffling as he wiped away the tears beneath your eyes with his thumb. You looked up at him and noticed he was looking at your lips, and you suddenly felt a bit insecure, and he seemed to notice.

“Have you ever kissed anybody, darling?”

You shook your head.

A smirk grew on his pretty lips, he knew you hadn’t kissed anyone before, he knew you were pure. You were untainted. You were perfect.

He leaned in towards you, placing his hand on your cheek as his lips pressed against yours in a perfect, gentle kiss. You felt a white hot heat consume your entire body, filling you with a desire, a want. You wanted him.

As he began to pull away, you crashed your lips back into his, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from moving.

You weren’t sure what to do, how to kiss, but as you kissed him you felt him take over. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you on to his lap without breaking the kiss.

“Would you do anything for me?” He asked against your lips before he began to kiss along your jaw.

“Yes, of course!”

“Then get down on your knees, darling.”

You did exactly as he asked with no hesitation, you shuffled about on his lap so you could stand, before falling to your knees in front of him, between his legs.

You could see a bulge, a hardness in his trousers, which he was working to free. As he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down his boxers, his cock sprung up, slapping against his clothed stomach.

It was big, you were sure it was much bigger than average. There was a vein on the underside which caused you to lick your lips. The tip was red and leaking, you were sure it must have been painful.

“What do I do?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You can use your hand, or your mouth. I want you to show me how much you love me, show me how you would give yourself to me, show me how you worship the devil. Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you were basically panting, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock, “I’ll show you, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” He smiled, running his fingers through your hair as you kissed the vein on the underside of his cock.

You weren’t sure what to do, and you felt a little bit embarrassed as you took him into your hand and began pumping him, your thumb ghosting over the tip with each pump.

An almost growl escaped his throat as you continued this action. You wanted to use your mouth like he said, but you were unsure how. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

“Wrap your lips around it, sweetheart, take it down your pretty little throat.” He groaned, his head thrown back as his hand grabs your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail.

You do as he says, and you just about manage to fit him in your mouth. He lets out another moan as he feels the wet warmth of your mouth.

“That’s it, just like that, sweet girl.”

You try to take as much of him as you can, but as he hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicked in.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You can take a little more, cant you, angel? Hm?”

You nod your head and try again, and you manage to take another inch this time. He praises you, he tells you how well you’re doing for him, how he’s proud of you, and then you feel his cock twitch in your throat.

“Mm, fuck. You can stop now, darling. Let’s do something else.”

He takes your hands, which were placed on his thighs, and he helps you up before pushing you down onto your bed, your head against the pillows. You barely had time to register what was going on before his lips crashed against yours again.

You felt as his left hand began to slide down your body, it was placed on your waist with a tight grip before it began to slide down, down to the place where you ached to be touched.

His hand was placed flat on your clothed cunt, he watched you with excited eyes as you bucked your hips up, searching for some friction, anything to bring you pleasure.

Your eyes met his as he slipped his fingers beneath the material of your underwear, you were quite glad you only wore a baggy t-shirt to bed tonight, and you were sure he was also grateful.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss briefly, “you really want to go further? You really want me?

“Yes, sir. I do, please!” You whined, your fingers tangling in his blonde locks as you pulled him back in for a kiss.

His thumb teased your clit gently as his finger slowly dipped into your hole, stretching you out for the first time.

“Stop teasing,” you groaned, “I can take it, I can take you.”

“I don’t want to hurt my pretty darling, though.” His voice was soft, but you could also sense a hint of teasing in the way he spoke.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me.” You whispered.

Suddenly, it was like a switch was flipped. He tore the t-shirt from your body, discarding it on the floor as he tore your underwear next, leaving you completely bare underneath him.

“You’re… beautiful.” He told you, running a hand over your breasts which were now exposed to him as you hadn’t put a bra on after your shower. “I never thought anything could be so perfect.”

His lips were back on yours within seconds and you could feel the soft head of his cock rubbing against you, and it sent shivers down your spine. It felt truly delicious.

As he began to push himself inside of you, you felt an intense stinging, it burnt like hell. You tried not to clench around him, but you couldn’t help it, everything felt so intense.

You bit down on his shoulder as the final inches slid into you, you felt so full. You never thought a feeling like this could exist. It was perfect.

As he began to move, you let out a pained gasp, to which he smirked at and continued to thrust.

He placed one hand on your waist, holding you in place as he fucked into you, and the other was beside you on your mattress, holding himself up. He looked down at the expression on your face, one he could only describe as angelic. Your lips slightly parted, your eyes squeezed shut, he knew you were starting to feel the pleasure by now.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, causing him to twitch inside of you. He wanted this moment to last longer, but he knew you would both come undone soon. You were a virgin, you felt so tight and warm around him, it was impossible to hold on any longer.

“Darling,” he panted, “are you… ready?”

“I am, I’m ready, sir.”

“Good girl, let go for me, cum for me, angel, can you do that? Cum for the devil.”

“Yes.” You whimpered, before your body was overtaken by a stronger force, something so unexplainable, you could only describe it as bliss.

“My sweet girl,” you heard him say as your vision began to blur and black spots filled your sight, “you were always so perfect.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When your senses came back and you finally awoke, you realised you were not in your bedroom. You were not even in your home. You were somewhere else.

You looked down to see you were wearing a cream silk nightgown, and you were lying on a big white bed. Everything looked so expensive, so fancy, like it was fit for a queen.

“Ah, you’re awake!” You heard him say, a smile spreading across his face as he stood by the bottom of the bed.

“Jamie? Where am I?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted, “you’re home.”

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi!! i loved that Steve and Natasha sickfic you wrote a few days ago 🥰 Would u consider writing a sequel where Natasha gets steve home and comforts him when he’s too sick to sleep i. the middle of the night?? steve/Nat is one of my Favorite ships !

Hi, anon! I’m so glad you liked that small fic. I love Steve/Nat too, so of course I had to write a little follow-up for this fic. I know this prompt is basically ancient, but I hope you see this and enjoy it <3

“I wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna get off that couch,” Natasha says, a smirk playing on her lips as she hands Steve two steaming mugs of tea, one for each of them, and slips under the sheets next to Steve.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Steve chuckles a bit and gives Nat her mug back when she has gotten comfortable. “What can I say,” Steve says, peering over the edge of the mug, then takes a careful sip. “It’s a nice couch. Good for napping… And cuddling,” he adds.

“It is,” Nat agrees easily and brings her mug to her lips.

Somehow, she had convinced Steve to cancel the rest of his meetings for the day and go home instead of sleeping on the couch in his office at the compound. Yes, it was a nice couch and all, but nothing beats their soft bed and blankets, which seems to be exactly what Steve needs tonight.

They put on some random reality show that they agree is so stupid it’s entertaining while drinking their tea. The steam and warmth from the tea makes Steve’s nose run, though, and he has to push the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt to his nose a few times when he sniffles become too insistent to ignore.

Nat passes him a couple of tissues and takes the now empty mug from his hand and puts it on the bedside table. She’s starting to get tired, too, after coming home from the mission earlier, and she yawns into the fabric of Steve’s shirt as she nuzzles her face into his shoulder.

“Tired?” Steve asks, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“Mhmm,” she hums, closing her eyes and sighs deeply.

“Let’s get some sleep then, hm?”

Nat just nods, scooting closer to Steve and drapes her arm across his waist, head resting on Steve’s shoulder. She faintly remembers the feeling of Steve’s lips on her forehead, a few sniffly kisses placed right above her eyebrow, before everything goes quiet.

——

Most of the team would probably think that Nat’s a light sleeper, that she can sense whenever something’s up, even in her sleep. And she can, when they’re on missions and stuff like that. But here, at home with Steve, she feels safe and comfortable enough to let herself fully relax.

However, she does stir when she feels the foundation beneath her head begins to shift, and then suddenly there’s a lack of warmth and contact and what is that sound?

She blinks her eyes open, squinting slightly, to see Steve sit on edge of bed, ready to push himself into a standing position.

“Hey,” she croaks before Steve can get to his feet, propping herself up on her elbow. She’s a little more awake now, and more concerned, too. She casts a glance at the digital clock on Steve’s bedside table and frowns when she sees that it’s only just past 2 a.m. “Where you going?”

Steve flinches almost imperceptibly when he hears her voice, then turns to face her. He looks tired, Natasha notices, even more than when they went to sleep just a few hours earlier. He looks a little frustrated, too, now that she thinks of it. Not like he’s angry or anything, but he’s wearing that frown that tells her something’s not right.

“I’m s-sorry, I was—“ Steve breaks off to cough harshly into the crook of his elbow, his other hand clenching the sheets tightly. The coughs sound terrible, throat-scraping and taxing, leaving Steve gasping for air.

Nat sits up a little straighter and turns on the small beside lamp that emits a weak, warm light that isn’t too harsh on their eyes. Then she rubs Steve’s back through his shirt, and it’s clammy and sticky, clinging to his skin. She can feel the heat coming off of him, too, and it’s really no wonder why he has sweat through his shirt.

“I was t-trying snf! trying not to wake you,” he finishes when his breathing has become somewhat stable. “Couldn’t sleep,” he explains when Natasha asks why he’s even up in the first place. “Can’t,” he amends and rubs a hand over his face.

His hair is all disheveled, probably from tossing and turning his head around his pillow, trying to get into a comfortable position without waking Nat. His eyes are watery, too, like they’re too tired to not tear up. He gives her a small smile, though, looking both apologetic and grateful.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling this bad, honey,” Nat says earnestly. “You should’ve woken me up…”

Steve shakes his head lightly, then pushes a bent index finger under his nose and sniffles a couple times. “N-no, you juuh! snf! you just got home… huh! uhhEISH’oo! heh? h! hH! huhh—TCHshh! ISH!”

The second of the triple teases him for a few seconds, making his shoulders hitch with each wavering breath until he finally gasps. He curls in on himself with the sneezes, too, aiming them down at his chest as he doesn’t really have the energy to do anything more than that.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, his voice low and rough sounding.

“Bless you, Steve,” Nat says and leans up to kiss his shoulder. “I’m gonna get you some medicine, okay? To get your fever down and hopefully knock you out, too. Oh, and a new shirt, this one’s all damp,” she adds and smooths a hand over his back to feel the sticky material again.

“Okay, yeah… it’s probably all germy, too, since I… y’know.” Steve gestures vaguely to his face and then to his chest where he had directed the sneezes at. He smiles a little self-deprecatingly and Nat returns it with one of her own, gentle and fond.

“Right.” She starts sliding her hands underneath the shirt, then pulls it over his shoulders and head, mussing his hair even more. He helps with getting the last bit of his head through the hole and crumples the shirt into a ball in his hand.

Steve shivers as the cool air hits his bare skin, hairs rising on his arms, goosebumps all over. Then he tenses, the muscles on his back flexing and becoming even more visible than through the tight fitting tee. His breath comes in small shallow puffs of air before smothering his face into the fabric in his hand and succumbing to the ticklish itch in his nose.

“Huhh! huhUSHmphh! heh, eh! eptCHmffhh! Ugh…”

He muffles the sneezes into the the shirt, though Nat can still hear how forceful they are, see it, too, in the way Steve jerks and his shoulders hunch.

“God bless,” she whispers and nuzzles a kiss into the crook of Steve’s neck. “I’ll be right back,” she promises and slips out of bed to fetch the medicine, a new shirt and some more tissues.

When she comes back, Steve doesn’t argue with her, even though he hates the medicine. He’s tired and groggy enough that it couldn’t really make him feel a lot worse, and it might even knock him out like Nat had said. While they wait for the meds to kick in, they snuggle up in bed again, good and close. There’s a couple soft, strong sneezes, too, that he catches against the tissues Nat passes him or against his shoulder, into the clean shirt that’ll probably also need washing in the morning.

During it all, Nat is rubbing a soothing hand over Steve’s chest and kissing his cheek or forehead while murmuring soft endearments into his ear. It doesn’t take very long before she hears the quiet snores from the (finally) sleeping man next to her, smiling to herself as she closes her own eyes.

[valorantmenheadcanons]

Hello!!! May I please ask for confession headcanons of chamber, kay/o and yoru with a fem!reader? Hehehehrh have a lovely day, and thank you ❤❤❤

Have a good day too 💚 also sorry about the spacing getting weird in the middle of Kayo’s. I wrote half of this on my iPad and the other half on my phone so.. :p

Chamber

okok we all know the man is rich and fancy

but when he confesses? he doesn’t wanna go too hard with it so he puts on a usual suit and gets a bouquet of your favourite flowers

and yknow he could use his usual charming persona OR he could opt to let his guard down a little as a display of trust

it’s the latter

he waits until you’re done working for the day to approach you in your room

he gifts the bouquet which is when you know something is up: either he’s just being nice or he fucked up something you don’t know about yet and is preemptively apologising with flowers

either way they smell nice

“there is… something I wanted to talk to you about”

and now you’re even more confused because when chamber messes something up he owns it. You’re not used to a mildly hesitant chamber, especially not one with pink ears

“did someone die or something? You’re scaring me here chamber”

he is so confused lmao

“no???”

he figures now it might be a little awkward so before it gets any more awkward he’s gonna say it

“I quite enjoy being in your company, madam. More than I probably should, but these feelings for you are very persistent. You are always on my mind and it’s driving me crazy.”

you’re baffled because no way in hell is chamber confessing to you right now

“if you would like to, may I take you out to dinner sometime?”

ok so you had feelings for him too- how could you not with his smug charming self showing up to keep you company so often over the past few months?

“are you asking me on a date?”

“was that not clear?”

ahhhhh and there’s that smile, his confident persona slipping back into place

“just making sure. Did you have anything in mind?”

and it’s not a ‘no’ so chambers heart leaps

Kayo

this dude definitely looked at a wikihow article on how to ask someone out

he’s never done this before and he refuses to ask anyone else for advice

so Kayo shows up at the practice range late at night knowing full well you’ll be there

he swiped some cookies and gives them to you first

”I read that humans like sweet foods as gifts”

you thank him and stop shooting bots to eat them next to him

you notice he’s warmer than usual but chalk it up to Robot Things tm

except that he’s less talkative than he usually is

”are you ok kayo?”

”yes, I’m just thinking about what to say”

”about what?”

”about you. And me. I’ve never felt like this about a human before”

And then it hits you, what he’s talking about

”You humans call it a crush”

And you can’t help a “aweeeee kayo! That’s really sweet. Honestly, I’ve kind of had a... crush on you too but I didn’t want to make it weird between us since you’re a robot and all… I wasn’t sure if you…”

He’s a little bit taken aback, he had hopes this would go well but yknow, hope for the best, prepare for the worst

and now you can definitely feel him heating up even more

”don’t blow a fuse thinking too hard there, iron giant”

”ha-ha”

(id like to imagine he can make little emoticon expressions on his face and there’s a little :) now)

Yoru

OK SO

not be cliche but he writes you a note and sticks it under your door

hes horrible at communicating his feelings but he really wants this to go well and doesn’t want his walnut brain screwing it up

in the note he talks about how much he likes spending time with you, the way you make him laugh

of course he’s gonna lightly tease you, even in the note because it’s yoru

and then he writes about how you make him feel, how it’s hard to think straight around you

he feels so stupid writing it but it’s the safest option for his emotionally constipated ass

the morning after you receive the note you head to his room to talk to him about it

he opens the door in his pajamas, sleep tussled hair, morning voice in all it’s glory

he’s half awake but the sight of you in front of him holding his note is like ice cold water to the face

”so… I read your note”

he is so on edge

”I’m really happy you feel the same way I do, yoru”

he can’t help the “really?” That slips out

”I didn’t take you for a love letter kind of guy though” you tease

”it’s not a love letter! I just.. I didn’t wanna mess it up”

he’s got a pout on his face but a tight hug has him smiling into your hair

[beautifulblhell]

3AM

Summary: Being friends with the Haitani brother entails being dragged out at 3am

A/N: Happy birthday to the thirstiest hoe I know to the lady who leaves Akaashi at home while she goes out on bike rides with Rindou and Wakasa @ara-mitsue!!🥳🥳🎉 okay so originally I didn’t think I would be able to finish this in time, hence why I wrote that fic with Ana, but here’s your order of Haitani sandwhich with a glass of Wak- I mean, water to quench your thirst🥴 hope you have a wonderful day today, and may you be surrounded by ‘roses’ tonight in your dreams 🍆🍆🍆🤣

Stayed up to 4am to write most of this, and since it was fuelled by lack of sleep, I apologise if some parts failed to make sense (or the whole thing) p.s it was only meant to be a 1k Fic 🤡

Characters: Haitani Ran x Reader x Haitani Rindou (x a special guest)

Tags: fluff, crack, swearing

WC: 3k

Tap tap

You jerked awake, accidentally yanking off one of your earphones as the cable got caught in your sleeve. For a moment you tried to make sense of the disoriented world. Then you swore. You had fallen asleep at your desk. Spreadsheets and graphs sprawled across your desk. Just the mere sight of them sent a shudder through you. And to think you always thought homework was bad.

You pulled off your other earphone as you got up. You back ached like a bitch. You stretched, then gave up as the pain intensified.

So much for the job description of nine-to-five. Guess it was your fault for not reading the small print when you signed the contract. Probably printed on page six hundred and fifty two in size 0.5 font was where it entailed how much work you need to do even when you got back home.

Tap tap

The rocks hit your window harder.

You glanced at the little clock sitting on your desk. ‘3AM’ flashed across the dim blue screen. You sighed, then crossed the room to your window. You had hoped you only dreamed of the noise, but alas, ‘twas not the case.

“What took you so long?” Rindou’s pissed voice materialised from the night air the moment you opened your window. Hearing his words, you were tempted to slam the window in his face. The only thing that was stopping you was how hot he looked even under the harsh glare of the streetlights. Taking another eyeful wasn’t going to cost you anything.

He was standing below your room with a handful of pebbles in his hand, his head tilted up towards your room on the second floor. The front wheel of his motorcycle was parked smack bang in the middle of your mom’s prized flowerbeds. Someone is definitely going to get skinned alive when she finds out in the morning.

“The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the window is closed.” you replied monotonously, your hand gripping the edge of the window frame, ready to lower it.

“Awww that’s no fun~” You looked towards the direction of the sing-song voice. The older Haitani brother was leaning on his motorcycle, which thankfully was parked at the sidewalk. His lips curved upwards when his lilac eyes raked over your dishevelled blouse.

You eyed suspiciously at the brick he was tossing absentmindedly. “What were you planning to do with that?”

“I wonder,” Ran mused, his eyes glinting with amusement. You had a feeling it would be what hit your window next if you hadn’t responded.

“It’s three in the morning.” The first three buttons of Ran’s shirt were open, and you finally managed to rip your eyes from him and glared at Rindou. “Are you trying to wake up the entire neighbourhood?”

Rindou blinked at you in confusion. “Who goes to sleep at three?”

“Oh, I don’t know, normal people?” You could feel a small headache starting to form. Common sense never seemed to apply to the Haitani brothers.

“Weaklings,” Rindou sniggered, and Ran nodded in agreement. You weren’t sure how both of them still managed to look so perfect without any sleep, while you looked like you crawled out from the depth of hell every time you pulled an all-nighter. Genes, probably. And the Haitani brother sure seemed to have received the best.

Ran turned to his brother with that same easy grin. “It’s like the scene in Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? Our princess is looking down at you from the balcony. What’s your next line, Romeo?”

Rindou’s eyebrows twitched. Before he could make a snarky comeback, you cut in. “You’ve actually read Shakespeare, Haitani Ran? I thought reading was a foreign concept to you.” You’ve never seen Ran with a book in all the years you’ve known him.

“The movie. Never have or will read that,” he replied without an ounce of shame.

“Wow, love how you can admit that with a straight face and look so proud. It makes me feel bad for having read it.” You were pretty sure the only thing Ran read was the menu in restaurants. Or maybe he just pointed at the pictures and ordered those.

“Are you coming down or are you gonna continue to stay up there and chat? My neck’s straining.” Rindou had dropped his rocks and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“No, I quite like this view of looking down on you.” You peered dramatically down at him. Ran burst out laughing, and Rindou only answered with a scowl. His mouth moved indecipherably. Probably cursing.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where you are bringing me. Last time you took me to an abandoned house and scared the shit out of me.”

“Not this time, I promise.” Ran looked at you with much sincerity as he could muster, yet he couldn’t quite hide the glint of amusement in his purple eyes.

“That’s what you said last time as well.” You threw him an accusatory glare.

“If you don’t come down I’ll wake up the entire street.” Ran threatened.

“How?” You challenged back.

“I’ll…” Rindou trailed off.

“Break everyone’s windows?” Ran suggested unhelpfully.

“Yeah, if that is what it takes.” From the looks of their faces you knew they would stay true to their word. The Haitani brothers always got their way.

With a resigned shake of your head, you said, “Fine, but I need to get ready.”

“Just come down as you are, you always take hours to get ready,” Rindou groaned. You felt offended. You never took hours. Just… maybe yeah, an hour or so.

“As you can see, we didn’t bring a tent,” Ran gestured towards their motorcycles.

“I look like a mess,” you complained. You had slept in your work clothes and hadn’t even cleaned off your makeup. If you looked up in a dictionary for the word ‘mess’ you are pretty sure you would find your picture pasted in there.

“A hot mess,” Ran smirked up at you, his tone taking on a flirtatious tone. And your heart responded with a quick double flip. Nice betrayal, you thought.

Rindou shrugged, “We’ve seen worse, like that time when you were studying for finals and were fueled purely by coffee-”

You grabbed the shoe box laying at the corner. Taking out a high heel, you threw it down at him. Luckily, your aim was spot on. It went flying at light speed towards your target. Unluckily, Rindou was quick to react. He dodged it before it stabbed him.

“What the fuck you crazy-”

“You saying something?” You held up the other high heels high in your hands. Rindou instantly clamped his mouth shut.

“A smart choice,” Ran mused at the side.

“You aren’t off the hook either,” you rounded on him. Ran lifted both of his arms in mock surrender.

“Just come down peacefully, will you? We aren’t trying to kidnap you.” Rindou rubbed the back of neck with a pained expression.

“More like blackmail. Can’t this wait? My parents are asleep, if I go down I’ll wake them up.”

“Then jump down, I’ll catch you.” He took a step back and held his arms wide open.

“I don’t trust the person who secretly ate all the ice cream, then filled the tub back with ice.” You folded your arms.

“Busted,” Ran grinned at his brother. “You thought she would never notice.”

“You ate some too,” Rindou snapped back. He turned back towards you. “Hurry up, my arms hurt.”

Seeing you still debating, Ran tossed the brick higher in the air.

Finally, knowing you could never win against them, you clambered on the window sill. You looked down below.

It wasn’t too high. Worst comes to worse, you’ll break a few bones. At least you can get a cast and ask for sick leave from work. Or your boss might just decide to fire you. So you closed your eyes and jumped, with the future of your job also hanging on the line.

Half of you were expecting Rindou to tumble down with you when he caught you. Instead, after falling weightless for a brief moment, strong arms caught you easily. When you opened your eyes, Rindou’s face was right next to yours. His sharp lilac eyes were gazing at you intently. He was way more handsome up close, and it took everything you had not to run your hand down his face.

He frowned slightly. “Have you been losing weight?”

You raised your eyebrows. “What are you, my personal scales? You should have told me earlier, then I wouldn’t have splashed out on that weight scale. Comes with the BMI measuring function too, can you do that?”

“No, but I know when and how much snacks you eat at night sometimes.” Rindou sniggered. You stuck your tongue at him before hopping off his arms. It was true, recently work has been stressful and you haven't been eating properly.

“Shall we get dinner afterwards then?” Ran smiled. It wasn’t a question.

“I’ll get fat if I eat so late at night,” you protested, already knowing it was a lost cause.

Rindou shrugged. “You could afford to eat more. You are way too thin.”

“Hmm what should we have,” Ran tilted his head towards the side, thinking.

“Dim sum,” Rindou instantly answered.

“I’m sure there are places that serve dim sum at three in the morning,” you said sarcastically.

Ran smiled lazily. “For us, yes.”

“So where are you kidnapping, you witches-”

Someone threw something over your head. “Hey!” You pulled it off. You were ready to throw it back when you saw it was Rindou’s jacket.

“Who in their right mind doesn’t bring a jacket when they come out at night?” Rindou spoke with his back to you. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears were slightly red.

“Well, who asks other people to go out with them at this hour?” You grumbled. You shoved your arms through his jacket. The smell of Rindou enveloped you completely, almost as if he was hugging you.

Ran had sauntered up. One of his gloved hands tilted your chin upwards and he gazed down at you with a smirk. “Hmm, maybe lovers?” He lowered his face down, and you could feel his breath against your lips.

You took a step back. “Is that why you and Rin were out so late? Whoops, my bad, didn’t mean to be a third wheel for you guys. Lemme go back-”

“Stop flirting,” Rindou shoved his way in between you. “Here, wear it.” He handed you a helmet.

“Someone’s jealous,” Ran sniggered.

Rindou ignored his brother. He sat on his motorcycle, then looked back at you expectantly. You sat behind him.

“She’s gonna sit behind me when we come back, won’t you, pretty girl?” Ran threw you a wink from his motorcycle. You rolled your eyes.

Rindou revved the engine and it came roaring to life. You wrapped your arms around Rindou’s waist. You could feel his firm muscles under his t-shirt.

“Rin?” You lifted your visor and called out to him, your chin rested on his shoulders.

“What?” He called back. He was gearing up the motor ready to drive.

“Did you work out more? Your abs are firmer.”

Rindou nearly crashed the motorcycle. Ran cackled so hard that he was nearly crying.

It took them a few minutes before they were able to drive.

Both motorcycles shot through the still night, sending howling winds screaming on either side of you. The headlights sliced through the darkness, lighting up the empty road in front of you. The scenery passed by in a blur, which spoke of the pace you were going at. You clutched Rindou harder.

Both of them never bothered to slow down, even at corners. In fact, they seemed to be speeding up. Gradually, more lights came twinkling into view, until they came to a stop at a place bustling with activity. Bright neon lights for all kinds of seemingly shady places hung off the buildings. It was a place that never slept.

The moment the people noticed the Haitani brother, they stopped and bowed. Some hurriedly scuttled away. However, Ran and Rindou didn’t seem to care. After they parked, Ran pulled loose his hair band. His long hair cascaded past his shoulders. He held his hair tie in between his teeth as he gathered his dark strands into a ponytail.

He smirked when he caught you looking at him.

“Trying to look perfect, Ran?”

“I always look perfect.” He pulled loose a few strands of hair. He really did. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

“Wow, someone’s ego sure is big. Don’t think the Earth is big enough for it.” You climbed off the motorcycle.

You walked in between them. Everyone gave them a wide berth. You always felt like a celebrity when you walked with them. Except people didn’t stare at celebrities with fear in their eyes.

“For the upteenth time, where are we heading-“

You tripped. How you trip over nothing is beyond you, but you do. You nearly gave Mother Earth a big kiss when a strong arm jerked you back.

“Owww,” you rubbed your shoulders that nearly got dislocated. “But thanks.”

“It’s amazing how you always manage to do that,” Rindou sighed. He grabbed your hands. “Shit why are your hands so cold?” He shoved your linked hands in his pocket.

Ran whistled at the side. “That was smooth, brother of mine.” He slipped one of his arms around your waist. “So you don’t trip,” he said with a smirk. Rindou snorted.

You came to a stop and a small door in an alleyway. You glanced around. There was no sign to indicate where you were. It could be a hideout for serial killers for all you know.

Rindou opened it without knocking. There was a staircase leading to the bottom. A terminally ill  lightbulb flickered overhead, providing almost no illumination.

“It looks like a staircase descending to hell,” you groaned.

“Exactly where we come from,” Ran answered cheerfully.

“The stairs are narrow, be careful.” Rindou went down first, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

You followed, groping your way down. One time you nearly missed your footing.

“I got you,” he muttered when you screamed. If he hadn’t been holding your hand tightly you were sure you would have tumbled down the stairs.

Once you reached the landing below, you were faced with a red curtain. Rindou pushed it apart. A bright light flooded into your eyes and you winced. Once your eyes adjusted, you recognised the furniture and equipment as a tattoo parlour.

A man with blonde and purple hair was in the centre of the room, preparing his equipment. He raised his head when you entered. He had droopy eyes, but there was a sharp glint in them. Your breath hitched. He was good looking. Wayyy too good looking.

“Heyyyyy Waka~” Ran threw open the curtains and came in behind you. “Here’s the little lady we told you about.”

The man called ‘Waka’ dropped his gaze to you and Rindou’s entwined hands. You quickly let go.

“You are late.” His voice was smooth. He spoke quietly, yet there was a steely undertone that spoke he wasn’t to be messed with.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ran laughed. You’ve never heard such an insincere apology in your life before. “It took a little convincing for her to come here.”

Ran placed a hand on your shoulders. He bent down until his face was next to yours. “This is Waka, Imaushi Wakasa. He’s the best tattooist here, no, in the whole of Tokyo. He’s pretty picky about his clients, and it took a good persuading for him to agree.”

“Sooooo why are we here? You want me to watch you and Rindou getting tattoos?”

“Getting matching tattoos, doll, all three of us.” Ran’s grin widened, his purple eyes glinting.

You stared at him open-mouthed.

Rindou laughed at your shell-shocked expression.

“Excuse me? You brought me out here for this? And you didn’t even ask me?”

“We’ll show you the design if you like,” Ran said.

“Afterwards,” Rindou finished with a snigger.

You groaned.

“Ladies first,” Ran gestured. You glanced at Wakasa who was lowering the tattoo chair until it was completely flat.

“Wait, hold on, where is this tattoo gonna be?”

Rindou tapped the base of your spine with a smirk.

“Are you kidding?!” A tattoo right on the spine is gonna hurt like hell.

Wakasa looked at you. His sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through you. “If she doesn’t want it then I won’t do it.”

“Do it for us, doll?” Ran peered into your face. He ran his thumb over the bottom of your lip. The corner of his mouth curved upwards. His smirk was irresistible, and he knew it. You could feel Rindou gazing at you too, and a third pair of eyes staring at your back.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh. You’ve always wanted a tattoo anyway. Just maybe not so early in the morning. You untucked your blouse and gathered it at your waist. You heard Wakasa snap on his gloves. At least the tattoo artist was hot.

Ran and Rindou sat on either side of you as you laid face down. You clutched both of their hands.

“I think our hands are going to get mauled today, little brother.” Ran chuckled seeing how tightly you were squeezing them already.

“Take off your gloves,” you scowled at Ran. If you were going to be hurting then both of them can at least share your pain.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl.” He smiled. He held your gaze, then, he brought his gloved hand up to his mouth, before biting the middle finger of his glove, and pulled it off with his teeth. It dropped into his lap. His smirk deepened when he saw you swallow. You averted your gaze with a huff. Cold fingers weaved through yours. Ran’s hands were always colder than Rindou’s. You gripped both of them tightly.

“It’s gonna be worth it,” Rindou answered with a grin.

You sure hoped so.

Masterlist | Support | 2021.11.06

[gingerbreadmonsters]

get in, loser!

or: you can brush my hair, undress me everywhere...

gn!reader, a little bit risqué but no explicit nsfw, a shameless excuse for flirty cutesy fluff. at last, it's here! a quick round of applause for our sponsors: @tiredandsleepyx for providing the wonderful prompt, @glassbearclock for being the finest fashion consultant i could wish for, @aeruh for an exceptional anecdote about silk sheets, and @haradasaya for posing the excellent question "but what if they sneezed?"! oh, and this fic would not have been possible without the incredible miles @friendlyfaded , who wrote a little something you might know called Howling at the Moon that inspired the vast bulk of Gavin's various chatter - it only felt right to include a little celebrity cameo in return hehe 💕💕 by far the longest, most dialogue-heavy thing i've ever written, and i don't apologise for it in the slightest. gavin striking a pose (there's nothing to it!) in just over 9600 words.

(the prompt in question: “The Freelancer going shopping for clothes and coming back with virtually nothing for themselves but like 20 things for Gavin because they spent the entire time thinking how good he’d look in each piece of clothing. Gavin is now sporting clothes of all types as Freelancer practically eats him up with their eyes.”)

“Love, come on, it’s hot out here!”

If he ever actually lets you in, he is for it.

You’ve been knocking - and knocking, and knocking - for the past five minutes. Why? Someone, it seems, appears to have forgotten how these sorts of jokes go, and doesn’t seem to be planning on answering the door any time soon. It would probably be a lot funnier if you hadn’t just got back from several hours of shopping, but these bags are far too heavy, and it's far too hot out here to be dealing with this right now.

(You knew this was going to happen. “Oh, don’t worry about taking a key, deviant. I can let you in.” “I’ll be back from lunch with Vincent way before then, it’ll be fine.” “I don’t mind, love, I’ll be right here.” He’s probably in the middle of a Mario Kart tournament or something and has the volume up too loud to hear you. Bastard.)

“Hello?!” 

Nothing. 

“Gavin?”

Still nothing.

“Oh, for the love- Gavin!”

That’s it. If he keeps you waiting any longer, you’re kicking this godforsaken door down, consequences be damned. Where did you put your phone again? He’s always got his somewhere nearby, and he normally has the ringer right up, so he should be able to hear you if you call.

It’s ringing, so presumably it’s gone through. The breeze has died down a bit while you’ve been out here, and the humidity’s just stifling. Come on, pick up… 

“Surprise, it’s Gavin. I’m a little… preoccupied right now - why don’t you leave me something nice to come back to?”

Yep, you’re kicking the door down. And he’s doing the washing up later. By hand. You’re just trying to figure out which bit of the door you’re going to aim at when-

“Ah, you’re back already!” Familiar footsteps get louder, as do the occasional curses when he trips over a stray shoe. He doesn’t wear shoes inside the house (thoroughly shamed out of him by Damien), and you can hear the clattering as last night’s heels - or possibly this morning’s heels, depending on where he and Vincent went for lunch earlier - go skidding across the floor. “Why didn’t you knock?”

(Dishes. By hand. And if it was Mario Kart, then he’s sleeping on the sofa tonight.)

“Welcome home, devia- oh, my. Someone’s been busy.” 

One unimpressed eyebrow lifts. “What gave it away?”

“Well…” He gives you a shamelessly over-the-top once-over, lips curling into his signature smirk, eyes lingering appreciatively over where your shirt clings to your waist. “The bags, probably.”

“Really? Clever boy.” The good-natured sarcasm isn’t lost on him, but it doesn’t stop Gavin from preening just a little bit, ducking his head slightly and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt - even though you tease him about it sometimes, it’s too cute for you to ever want him to stop. Honestly, he makes a lovely sight draped across the doorframe, but it would be really nice if he could budge just a bit to the left so you could actually get inside. “Yeah, th-”

“Under your eyes, I mean. Did you sleep okay? Mmm, don’t tell me I kept you up too late last n- ghh!” 

“Menace.” You say it fondly, although not without cause. He retreats, whining loudly, out of the doorway and towards the living room, hand clasped protectively over his side where you’d elbowed him out of the way. “If anyone was going to know about my sleeping habits, it would be you, wouldn’t it? Considering how heavily you feature in all of them.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, throwing himself emphatically onto the sofa and pouting up at the ceiling.

“Gavin?”

His necklace clinks as he twists away from you, throwing a lazy arm over his face that almost - almost! - hides his grin. He’s such an idiot.

“Hmmm… no.”

“‘No’?” You dump your various shopping bags over by the TV and walk up to where he’s flopped face-down over the arm of the sofa, arms dangling down off the side, reaching down to scritch your nails over his scalp. “Silver tongue’s run out of things to say?”

“Wounded…” he moans into the cushions, “By my own lover’s hands, no less!” Somehow, that still doesn’t stop him from relaxing into your touch, nudging his head up against said hands when you slow down like he thinks you'll pull away. "Alas, I fear I may never recover, unless…"

Yep, here it comes. "Unless…?" 

His head snaps up (wow, that can't be a comfortable angle) as he gives you a big, dazzling smile, resting his chin on your hand as it traces down from his hair to his jaw. He's almost blinding, eyes bright and mischievous, soft hair ruffled and falling into his face. From here, he looks like something out of a magazine, like everything around him goes into soft focus, fades away. It happens all the time - you’ve thought about asking if he’s turning on the charm on purpose, but it’s probably just the effect he has on you. 

"Unless you kiss it better.” He tilts his face into your palm, that rakish grin as irresistible as ever, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to lean down and kiss him senseless.

His lips are soft and smooth against yours, and you can taste the strawberries-and-cream chapstick he 'borrows' from you as he drags his teeth gently across your bottom lip. Your eyes are closed, but you smile against him as you feel him fumble to prop himself up against the cushions - in retaliation, he gives you a mock-offended little nip from this new angle before lightly teasing his tongue against yours. The faint flavour of orange juice, and is that grenadine? Pink lemonade? Your hands run along his jaw, slowly thumbing over the bone before tipping back and winding into his hair, and the satisfied sigh that drifts between you is enough to make you forget about the blazing heat outside, the stuffy airlessness of the shopping centre, the ache in your feet after walking all morning. Everything is him, cool and calm and good, and everything is right.

Well, almost everything.

“Mmmm-mmf!” He lurches forward in surprise, nose bumping awkwardly against yours as his eyes fly open - luckily, he has the presence of mind to avoid clacking your teeth together, but it’s a close call. “What was-”

“This?” You pull back up, withdrawing your hand from his back pocket, leaning over him as you wave the object in question in front of his face. You’re more than a little bit breathless, but if the deer-in-headlights expression he’s currently wearing is any indication, your death glare hasn’t suffered for it. “That’s a good question, actually. Gavin, what is this?”

“...My phone?”

“Mm-hmm. And what, exactly, do we do with phones?”

You can practically see the wheels turning as he tries to figure out what answer you’re looking for, and you wonder idly for a second how anyone thinks this man has any sort of poker face at all.

“Shit, did you call me?” Ooh, he knows he’s put his foot in it now. “Love, I swear-”

“What do you use it for?”

"Calling people…?"

Your eyes narrow. "And?"

“Answering my very gorgeous, vastly talented, incredibly wonderful, painfully attractive, endlessly generous, kind, sweet, caring, forgiving, merciful darling?”

You drop a quick kiss against his temple before handing the phone back to him as he pushes up to sit properly. “Glad we understand each other.”

“I’m sorry, deviant,” Hot pink nails click against the screen while you’re coming round to sit next to him, and the sheepish look he gets when he sees the umpteen missed calls from you is truly a thing of beauty. “I put it on silent while I was out because Hux was going off on one in the group chat after practice, and you know how Vincent gets when he’s interrupted in the middle of a story…”

(He’s got a point - apparently, there’s been a lot of drama about one of the second years on the team which, much to your collective delight, Hux has been doing his bit to keep the group chat informed about. You think it’s something about one of the older students going on an exchange year this year, and their replacement mouthing off about how they always deserved this spot on the team, they’re such good friends with everyone, they’re so fucking talented, whatever, whatever.)

(Lasko thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, mostly because he’s fairly sure he taught this particular problem student in his DAMN 101 class last year, and has been regaling you all with tales of this guy’s various failed attempts to impress whatever unlucky student happened to be sitting next to him. According to Lasko, he’d once said something after class about bringing someone back to his house and ordering pizza while they got to know each other, haha. Fortunately, the student he was trying to flirt with was having absolutely none of it, and had responded by pulling their phone out of their pocket with a “Hey, babe? Can you bring something back from work for dinner tonight?”, before side-eyeing the idiot next to them and loudly announcing into the microphone, “Yeah, I’m really craving pizza. With you, my boyfriend. At home, where I live with you. Yeah. Tonight, in our bed.” You’re not great at telepathy, but Damien popped into Lasko’s head while he was retelling this particular story and had to be carried over to the sofa in a fit of laughter at the look on the guy’s face as the student got up, picked up their obviously-borrowed Max’s Rustic Pizza branded jacket, and swept victoriously out of the classroom.)

“Fair enough, fair enough,” you concede. Vincent does get a bit sulky if he doesn’t get his moment. “And you didn’t hear me knocking for ten minutes because…?”

He slides his arm around your waist and presses an apologetic kiss to your neck, looking guiltily towards the Switch over by the TV. You’re not surprised at all. “Did you have the volume up again?”

"Hux says it’s more immersive when it’s louder!”

“We’re going to get another noise complaint!”

“Deviant,” he purrs into your skin, "we have those wards up for a reason. Trust me, the neighbours don't hear anything I don't want them to."

"...Such as?"

"Well, maybe I want to show off some of the lovely sounds you m- nononostop! It - haahh - deviant! It tickles!" You both know that he could easily turn the tables on you, but you let him take your tickle attack as penance for his crimes. He squirms backwards into the cushions when you dig your fingers into his sides, pained giggles spilling out as he throws his head back against the cushions, and all is forgiven.

Once the dust has settled and he's comfortably tucked back against your throat, you start to twirl your fingers through his hair again. He huffs contentedly, eyes long since closed, and you're loathe to disturb what looks like the beginnings of a very pleasant catnap. However, you know for a fact that he doesn't really like sleeping in his day clothes (it feels all weird and uncomfortable when he wakes up), and you've got some things you think he might enjoy more anyway.

"Gavin?" He cracks one eye open, mumbles something nonsensical into your shoulder and proceeds to ignore you entirely. "C'mon, you're gonna get a backache sleeping like that."

"Incubi can't g-"

"Yes, sweetheart, you can get backaches, and I know because you kept complaining about it after we fell asleep in Lasko's living room the other day. Do you want that again?"

"Hmph." He grimaces at the memory, finally giving in and letting you escape his grasp. "Fine, fine. Did you get those shoes you wanted? The red ones?"

"Didn't have my size," you grumble, picking your way knee-deep into the pile of shopping bags by the TV. Which one was it again? "You were right, the black ones were nice in the picture, but too boring when you actually put them on."

"Mm, the red is much more exciting. Can you order the right size online now that you've tried them on in a different colour?"

"Yeah, I did it on the bus coming back. They should get here at some point next week, I think." Where the hell did you put it?

"Oh, that's good. I haven't got anything planned for Thursday onwards, so I can stay and get the delivery if you like. I can even-"

"You are not going to do anything to the delivery driver!" He at least has the decency to backtrack, rasing his hands in mock surrender as he comes over to investigate your heap of purchases. "We're already on thin ice with the pizza guy, we don't need to be that house for the poor FedEx guy as well!"

"Okay, okay, I'll suppress my evil ways…" He dodges the bag in your hand with grace and a smile as you swing it half-heartedly at his shins. "The FedEx driver is safe. For now."

It's definitely here somewhere, but… Ah, there it is! You pluck the little square-shaped bag from its hiding spot, tissue paper inside crinkling, just as you notice-

"Don't!" His hand freezes, fingertips just brushing the top of the closest bag. "Hold on a minute while I just..." 

"I'm holding, I'm holding!" 

You've clearly piqued his curiosity - he cranes his neck to try and see what's inside, but he's slightly too far away to make any of it out. "I have to say, I'm intrigued, love. You're feeling a little bit flustered - ooh, did you get something you don't want me to see?"

"It's not that…" You grab as much as you can carry and beckon him after you, watching his eyebrows raise as you usher him into the bedroom. "I don't think there's any of it that I don't want you to see, to be honest."

"Oh, is that so? Going to give me a little show, deviant? You know how much I like to watch. And it looks like you've got all sorts of things to show me." He's already stretched out expectantly across the bed, relaxed against the headboard, which makes his little oof when you dump your armful of shopping on his stomach that much more satisfying. 

"I beg to differ, actually. I think it's you who's got a show to put on, love." 

"Huh?" God, has anyone ever told him how cute he looks when he's confused? He always tilts his head to the right, eyes narrowing and lips parting slightly as he tries to figure out what he's missed. "I… I thought you were out clothes shopping today?"

You nod. "Yeah."

"Didn't you, y'know, get anything to wear?"

"Yeah."

"So…?" 

"Most of it's, um…" It shouldn't be embarrassing to admit, but it kind of is, you know? Especially with how he's looking at you, all confused. "Most of it's for you?"

He doesn't seem to really know what to do with himself, mouth opening but no words coming out. To be honest, he looks as embarrassed as you feel, although you're not sure why - it's not as if it's unusual for you to get him a little something, if you're out and you see something he might like. It's just what you do, right? You see a pretty top, or a pair of socks, or a cool hoodie, and you think 'oh, Gavin would love that' or 'oh, that would really suit him' - what are you supposed to do, not spoil him? Impossible. 

(Sam, one of Vincent's friends, had joked last time you’d met that you spoil Gavin too much. You'd looked pointedly towards his mate, leaning on his shoulder, dressed head to toe in his clothes, and he'd promptly taken it back. Touché.)

"Deviant," he starts, a little bit weakly, "how much of this is mine and how much is yours, exactly?"

You fish that little square bag back out from where it's resting on his hip, and gesture to the rest with your other hand. "There you go."

He bluescreens for a second, before-

"I- you- what? All of this? Darling, you can't, it's too much, you really didn't need - mmf!" If Lasko were here, you think he'd be proud of you for using Gavin's signature shut-up technique against him. It really is very effective.

Once he's given up trying to protest into your mouth, you pull away slightly to rest your forehead against his. "I know, I know. You're right, I didn't need to. But I like to, and I want to, and I can afford it. So I did." 

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the starstruck look on his face still not completely gone away. It’s almost like he’s… surprised, that you wanted to give him things, like he’s surprised that you thought of him while you were out. Why? Doesn't he know? Doesn't he know, how you think of him all the time? Doesn't he know, how your heart melts at the sight of him? Doesn't he know, when he says your happiness is the feeling he loves the most, that you know exactly what he means? You don’t need to be a demon to tell. When his eyes scrunch up into happy crescents as he smiles, when he gives you that smirk and you just know that he's about to say something to give Damien a conniption, the way he grabs your hand and laughs, full and deep and free - you could live forever on that sound alone. 

“Is it so hard to believe that I want to spoil my pretty boyfriend?”

He shrugs, half-laughing under his breath, “I don’t deserve you, little voyeur.” Now, that won't do.

“You’re wrong,” you quietly declare. “You deserve everything I want to give you. Clothes, kisses, time, love, the whole fucking world if you’d let me. I just happen to be included in that.” He looks up at you, beautiful creature that he is, heart eyes and all, and it's too difficult to resist another kiss. 

This one is shorter, impossibly softer, your tongue skimming just once over his lip before pulling away. "I love you. More than anything."

"As I love you, my deviant." He gives you that smile again, charming and wicked in equal measure, and it sounds like beloved, devoted, all I am is yours. "Now, unless I'm very much mistaken, I'd say I have some things to try on…"

You match his grin with your own as he gets to work, rifling through the mess of shopping on the bed with all the unfiltered excitement of a little boy on Christmas morning, and today is shaping up to be fantastic.

-

"Ooh, let's start with this!"

You've been watching Gavin scurry around the bedroom for the last twenty minutes, unpacking bags, shuffling through drawers, laying potential outfits out on the bed - it's always a production, when there's stuff to try on. He's having an absolute field day of it, too, if the happy little noises he makes every so often are any indication.

(To be totally honest, you're not sure if other demons do the same thing, or if it's just incubi, or if it's literally just Gavin - you're not even sure if he does it on purpose or involuntarily. You'd first noticed it not long after you met him, in that weird state where you were sort-of friends and sort-of roommates and sort-of hooking up. You might fall asleep against his chest, nestled together on the sofa in front of the TV, and wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of quiet, satisfied purrs from underneath your head. The longer you've known him, the more you've noticed it - those contented little chirps he buries in your hair when you come home after a long day at DAMN, the playful hisses he levels at Hux in the middle of a round of Smash, the frustrated snarling from the kitchen as he forgets how to work the oven again. It's incredibly charming, somehow, and you feel very privileged to hear it.)

"Okay, I'm thinking this, then these shorts, maybe with the tights, maybe with the black sunhat?

Yeah, they all sound like good options. "I reckon start without the tights, and then add them if it's not enough." Early prediction: he's going to ditch the hat. He loves a good accessory as much as the next incubus, but he'll say something about how it's 'too busy' and 'cutting off the line' and axe it completely. You know how it goes.

"Right!" And just like that, it begins - his current shirt is discarded unceremoniously into the far corner of the room, and the pair of you get to work. 

A few minutes later, he's examining his reflection as you do up the final few necklaces - for some reason, the clasps on some of these are unreasonably fiddly. He looks effortlessly gorgeous as usual, decked out in a high-necked, sleeveless burgundy crop top and black denim cutoff shorts. The jewellery is all gold (he can't stand burgundy and silver together, he says it's so blasé, darling) and a stack of necklaces sits atop the mesh panel across his collarbone.

"Mm, I like this! It's better without sleeves, don't you think? It makes the whole thing a lot more fun." True to form, he's benched the hat for now, although you're sure it'll be back before long. "Not the most groundbreaking thing you've ever seen, but I think it could be very versatile."

You agree, nodding as he compares handbags. "Definitely a useful one. Keep or return?"

"Oh, keep, absolutely," he throws over his shoulder, kicking off his shoes as he skips back to the bed, clearly ready for the next thing. "Love the mesh, plus the material is nice and soft - and so breathable! Now, what have we here…"

He holds up another pair of shorts, even shorter than before, light pink this time. "My goodness, love. There's hardly anything of these!" Cue the pearl-clutching. "What sort of demon do you think I am?"

"Oh, my favourite kind." You blink innocently, biting back a smirk, absolutely no idea what he's implying, no ulterior motives, not at all. 

He leans forward for another kiss, smile to smile, and of course you give it to him, breaking only to pull the top over his head. What is that flavour on his tongue? "Is that… grenadine? What on earth did Vincent have you drinking?"

"Oh, it was lovely! Milo's mate recommended it when we went over a few weeks ago, do you remember? They didn't say what it was called, but it's vodka, strawberry liqueur, grenadine, lemonade, and a few other bits and pieces - you know, I'd never had it before but it goes down easy as anything. And it's pink! It's very pretty. There's still some in the kitchen if you want some…?"

"Wait, you made it at home?" God, how much has he had to drink today? "Thank goodness you can't get alcohol poisoning."

He pretends to lick his thumb and smooth his hair back - truly, a paragon of modesty. "One of my many natural advantages."

"And are those natural advantages going to get dressed any time soon?" 

A plaintive sigh. "If they must, I suppose. Throw me the shirt?" It's a shame to see him cover up, but your thinking was absolutely right when you were out shopping - this shirt looks absolutely amazing on him. "See, I'm thinking that this colour needs silver jewellery instead…"

The colours are fantastic - a thin teal cotton with big white leaves all over, and the baby pink shorts are a perfect contrast. The cut is just right on him too, a sort of Hawaiian-ish style with short sleeves and a collar. This time, he's broken out the wedge sandals (the straw-coloured ones that you have no idea how he walks in) and a matching bag, and he's now testing out various pairs of oversized sunglasses.

(His jewellery collection is flipping enormous, and you're sorting through about five of six shallow drawers crammed full of rings and necklaces at once, not to mention all of the other boxes and drawers over by the vanity. Everything's a process, when it comes to accessorising, and it's lucky that both of you have got very good at knowing what the other likes and doesn't like to wear, otherwise this sort of thing would take hours.)

"So what were you drinking with Vincent, then? Blood, I assume."

He gives you a look - it's surprisingly effective, despite the fact that he's currently got about five pairs of sunglasses perched on his nose.

"Very funny, love. No, we were solidly on the Buck's fizz, thank you very much, although he did have a glass or two of blood every now and then."

It's not a surprise - Gavin can drink blood, from a purely nutritional perspective it's the same as any other kind of physical food for him, but he says he's not a particular fan of the taste. At least, not in significant quantities. "Wine glass not your style?"

"Oh, I was more than satisfied with the couple sitting across the lounge from us. They were having a wonderful conversation, I assure you, and they kept me very well fed. Unfortunately for them, Vincent and I have some rather unique skillsets, which may have led to some mostly-accidental eavesdropping - yes, it was an accident! He's got vampire hearing, he can't help it!" 

You shake your head, laughing under your breath as you hand him your selection of rings. "You're incorrigible, the pair of you."

"Oh, I know," he replies, "Isn't it wonderful? We're keeping the shorts and the top by the way, they're brilliant."

"Aren't they?" They'd looked okay on the mannequin, but you'd had a feeling he'd be stunning in them. "I'm absolutely wearing the shirt to the beach next weekend, by the way."

"What if I wanted to wear it?" he complains, but there's no heat behind it. "Nah, it'll look better on you."

You copy his thumb-lick-hair-smooth gesture, haughty as you like. "I know. Anyway, how was your eavesdropping, then?"

"Well, I couldn't quite hear the actual words, but Vincent said the gentleman closest to us had just been given a promotion at work, and I got the distinct impression that he and his partner are having a lovely time rewarding him, so to speak." His eyebrows aren't visible behind the sunglasses, but you know for a fact that he's doing the eyebrow thing that he thinks is roguish but is actually just kind of cute. "They had some excellent plans, too. On an unrelated note, do you remember where I left that silk tie from Monday?"

"Hanging up by the door, I think," you reply. It's always nice when he wears a tie - it makes kissing much more exciting. "Should I ask?"

"Mm, you can. I fear we might not finish this little fashion show for some time if you do, though." Don't look, don't look, if you look then you definitely won't be getting anything done for the rest of the day…

"Better get a move on then, handsome," you say, pointedly addressing the wardrobe on your right. "Wouldn't want you to get too distracted, would we?"

The (when did he get undressed? Because he's very much undressed) incubus behind you clearly disagrees, pressing his chest against your back as his hands drift gently up and down your arms, light pressure against the skin. "Oh, I don't know about that. I like to think I can be a very enjoyable distraction…" The words melt against you, sliding down your back, warm and slow, pooling in the bowl of your pelvis, and it would be so easy to give in. To turn around and let him walk you backwards towards the bed, clothes long forgotten, until the backs of your legs hit the mattress and you can pull him down to meet you there. It's tempting, incredibly so, and you nearly, nearly give in.

That is, until he sneezes directly past your face.

"Wh- Gavin!" You jerk out of his hold, watching as he collapses into a laughing heap against the bed. "What the fuck?" Going through all of his jewellery drawers must have upset all the dust in here or something, because it's probably not the alcohol. He holds his liquor better than most, and it tends to make him clingy, not make him sneeze.

"Sorry, deviant," he chokes out, one hand blindly fumbling for a tissue from the bedside table as he pushes himself back up to half-standing. "Not - ha - not really sure what happened there."

Idiot. Your idiot. "Just get dressed, loverboy," you quip, holding up two handfuls of dark fabric from the bed. "You can distract me later. Dress or blazer?" 

"Dress!" Speaking of distractions - almost before you can blink, he's right back to trying on clothes as if he'd never even mentioned ties, silk or otherwise. From the flatlay, it looks like this outfit's going to have a lot of layers, which is an… interesting choice for the middle of summer. A white dress shirt, too. Maybe he's planning ahead for the winter or something? Luckily, it seems like silver or gold is fine for this one, so you're spared another five minutes of rifling through jewellery boxes. Small mercies.

"Do you want the leggings under the dress as well?"

"Hmm… it's a bit hot for the leggings, I think. I do want to try with the boots though, the black ones - the ones on the left. Other left, other left - with the laces down the front? Yeah, those ones." They're heavy, all chunky soles and gold eyelets, but surprisingly comfortable - you like wearing them whenever you go and pick Gavin up from his Thursday lectures, mostly because they make a nice sound on whatever floor they've got in the Corsair building.

"Ready?"

"Yep!" He steps into the dress as you crouch down and hold it in front of him, hot pink nails adjusting the fabric at the front as you stand to do up the zip on the side. It's unexpectedly weighty, thick black cotton right down to mid-shin, but the drape is lovely and the sleeveless v-neck exposes the crisp lines of the stark white shirt. 

"Sleeves rolled up or down? I'm thinking down… Cufflinks?" He fiddles with the buttons at the wrist until you wave his hand away, doing them up for him while he watches.

"Not sure, I think you're fine with or without, really. It could have sunglasses, though."

"Yes!" he gasps, a pulse of psychokinesis flying across the room as a pair of massive, round sunglasses rocket past you and into his other hand. "Oh, you're a genius - I love it!"

He steps quickly into the boots and does them up with another dose of psychokinesis, doing a little spin in front of the mirror and giggling as the skirt flares out around his calves, twirling himself under your arm as you reach out to hold his hand. Sweetheart.

"Keep?" 

He nods enthusiastically, all bubbly and bright. "Keep!" And with that, it's onto the next one.

He's in the middle of exchanging the dress for a short, blue crop top when you remember. "I forgot to actually ask, earlier. How was lunch with Vincent? Is he alright?"

"Yeah, he's good, he's good," he says through a mouthful of fabric. "I thought for sure he'd want to do something in the evening, but he insisted that we go to the Rosewood - I think he's been keeping traditional vampire hours for a while, so he's not had the chance to do this sort of daytime thing? Obviously, he had to come in via the underground entrance, so I met him in the lobby. It's not changed a bit since we were there last, and the pianist in the lounge was marvellous as usual. Do you remember her - the Illusory who the poor bartender has a crush on?"

"The one who played that lovely Shostakovich? I remember her, but I don't know about the bartender." You hold up two necklaces as you speak - as expected, he nods towards the gold locket. He doesn't really have a preference between silver and gold as such, but this particular locket is definitely a favourite.

"Oh, I say she makes the best peach daiquiri you'll ever have, but Vincent prefers the ones at that empowered hole-in-the-wall place downtown, the one that Hux likes? In any case, the petits fours were absolutely wonderful, especially the little strawberry tarts, although I thought the tea menu could do with a revamp - you must come with us next time, they've got the most delightful silvertip blend that-"

"Darling."

"Huh?"

"Vincent." It doesn't happen often, but he does like to ramble when he's a bit sloshed. Bless.

"Yes, yes, of course… Oh, it was marvellous, seeing him again - I couldn't believe how long it's been! At least two months, maybe three. It only felt five minutes since we'd seen each other - he's just the same as ever, I'm telling you. He seems to be settling into things with his new progeny, which I can see is a relief for all involved. Apparently they've been talking to Sam a lot about it - do you remember Sam? The one who couldn't keep his hands off his mate the whole time we were at Milo's. Pass me the trousers?"

"Mm, I know." You do remember Sam, although you're not sure he was the only one having trouble with that when you went over. There's definitely a joke to be made here about glass houses and stone-throwing, because to be honest, you and Gavin were decidedly not much better. 

(Lasko had met Milo at the Games, apparently, although you're not exactly sure how. In any case, they seem to have become firm friends, and your little crowd has been invited over by Milo and his mate several times to hang out. They seem like really lovely people, although it was a bit of a shock that first time when a handful of Milo's pack turned up and a not-insignificant number of them seemed to recognise Gavin very well.)

(Of course, Gavin doesn't kiss and tell, but the look you'd shared had told you everything you needed to know. At the very least, it was nice to know that most of them had some idea of what Gavin can be like - the 7/11 story wouldn't surprise them too much. Speaking of the 7/11 story, you didn't miss the look in Milo's mate's eye when you told it - something tells you that next time you go in there, you should probably tip the cashier. A lot. You have it on good authority that Milo and his mate can be quite the handful. Or maybe just handsy. Either works.)

Milo's friend Asher had taken it with remarkable grace, only blinking in surprise for a few seconds before resuming his enthusiastic hello to the pair of you - as did Sam's mate, who made a fantastic joke about jacks and masters of all trades that you're definitely going to have to steal. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for their Alpha, David, who took one look at Gavin before immediately deciding he needed to make a beeline for the kitchen and get something a lot stronger to drink.

(This had immediately backfired, because this just left Gavin and David's mate - is their name actually 'Angel', or does he just call them that a lot? You couldn't tell - to introduce themselves, and they'd hit it off right away. In fact, they've somehow sweet-talked David into joining you and Gavin on a double date next weekend - you're very excited to see what that mischievous grin of theirs has got in store.)

In short: yes, you do know Sam.

"Well, anyway, Vincent's been telling me all about what's been happening with the clan - did you know that the masquerade is coming up again? He said the tickets should come in the mail as per usual, but apparently William hasn't said anything about the theme yet, so we have to keep an eye on that… Oh, and do you remember that professor who covered your Pre-Intermediate Elemental Command class a few months ago? Miles, I think his name was - we'll have to ask Lasko about him, I had no idea that he and Vincent knew each other! He didn't say how, but I'm told he and Lasko get on very well, so you mustn't let me forget to mention it at dinner tomorrow, alright?"

"I'll remind you. Shoes?"

"Ooh, I don't know… Not the blue ones. Are the white trainers too boring?"

"I mean, they are a bit, but the trousers are the important thing. I don't think anyone's really looking at the shoes. You could borrow Damien's, the shiny silver ones?"

"Yes! They would be perfect - ah, but would they clash with the gold necklace? Actually, I don't really care, it's busy enough with the orange and blue, plus the mirrored aviators as well. What's a few mixed metals on top of that, you know?"

The orange and blue combination is certainly a statement - a ribbed, navy blue crop top and a pair of orange cargo pants, with just a neat slice of waist peeking out in between. The trousers are a little too long on him, but it's nothing that can't be fixed. 

"Comfy?" He certainly looks it, all soft cotton and elastic. You loop your arm around his waist, settling against that exposed strip of skin around his middle, and pull him towards you until his arms slip around you in return, and his head tips to rest against your shoulder.

"Oh, very. A definite keep, I think." A quick squeeze around your waist and a kiss to the top of your shoulder. "And the outfit's not bad, either."

"Yeah? Mine or yours?" 

"What's mine is yours, love. Didn't you know?" 

"I know." You lean over to kiss the top of his head, just once. Maybe twice. And maybe a few more times after that. "I also know that that's why I keep having to buy so much strawberry chapstick."

"I, uh-" He splutters for a second, before conceding. "Okay, yeah. Maybe. But you can't say you don't enjoy the taste."

"Do I? Well, I don't know. I think I'd better try some more."

Eagerly, you nudge him backwards until he's properly cradled in your arms, dipping down to kiss him as he clings to your waist and your shoulder. He doesn't say it, but you know how much he loves these sorts of classically romantic, fairytale moments - bathing in your affection, sweet and pure and true. It doesn't matter where you are. For him, the feelings are always the same. For him, your feelings are always the same. 

He melts into your hold, letting you take the lead, whimpering softly as your tongue slips past his lips. In the end, you don't end up tasting much of the chapstick at all - the kiss gets deeper, hungrier, until you're both gasping for air, spit-slick and needy, burning heat in the still air of your bedroom.

"My offer from before still stands, you know," he murmurs against your lips. "Just say the word, love, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Well…" It's always difficult to tell him no. "Just a little longer," you say softly, glancing at the bed that's still heaped with clothes. "We can make a mess once we're done."

One perfect eyebrow arches. "Planning on making a mess, are we?"

"Oh, only if you're good." His breath hitches for a moment, eyelids fluttering as you drag him back in for just one more before pulling away. "There's still a few more things I want to see you in, first."

He makes some sort of garbled noise that you take to mean 'such as?', although it doesn't get very far as he's immediately smacked in the face with the bundle of multicoloured fabric you've chucked across the room. "Same sandals as earlier?"

Once he's free of his fabric prison, he nods, clearly feeling the need for a little more efficiency now that there's a prize at stake. "If you wouldn't mind. And the hat, too - with the ribbon!" 

He's had that hat for ages, one of those light-coloured floppy beach hat things with the big round brim that falls elegantly over one eye, the same sunglasses as before peeking out from underneath. The dress fits him even better than you'd thought - a long, flowy maxi dress silhouette in thin cotton, shirred across the bodice and finishing just above his ankle with a hidden slit up to mid-thigh.

"Oh, the print looks amazing! Very beachy." It's a familiar colour combination - big blue and orange flowers printed across the white fabric, in a sort of watercolour-esque style. He's not normally a fan of smaller prints (something about them being 'too basic', like he's never walked into Lasko's DAMN 101 class in a white crop top and jeans, sunglasses perched atop his head, Starbucks in one hand and obnoxiously oversized handbag in the other - because he has, you've seen the photos, he looks annoyingly fantastic), so this one is right up his alley.

(Fun fact: you're not allowed to say that particular expression out loud anymore, on pain of death, courtesy of Damien. The one time Hux had made the mistake of saying it to Lasko when Gavin was in the room, you'd seen that smirk on Gavin's face from across the room that you know guarantees trouble as he leant over to Lasko, and frantically signalled to Damien - he'd been forced to basically rugby-tackle Gavin over the side of the sofa to get him to shut up, but alas, it was too late. The phrase 'We can talk about what might be up your alley a little later, don't you think?' has never been uttered since, and likely never will be again for fear of divine - well, Damien's - retribution.)

"Right?" He does a little twirl in the mirror as you speak, laughing as he has to grab the hat to stop it flying off his head. He's so adorable. "It moves nicely too, so it'll photograph well and it shouldn't be too hot to wear."

"What do you mean, too hot?" Ever the gentleman, Gavin pouts at you over his shoulder, although it's partially hidden by the frill over the strap. "Aren't I always?"

You sigh, not unkindly. He loves this joke. "Yes, my love, you're always very hot, I promise."

A big, cheesy grin gleams at you from under the brim of the (really, it's almost ridiculously big) hat. "That's what I thought. Anyway, keep! Now I can wear this to the beach next weekend. We can wear matching shoes!"

You sigh, again. "Only if you hold my hand the whole time. Those things are a death trap!" They're, like, four or five inches (not counting the platform!) of solid cork and you don't dare attempt stairs in them - if he wants you downstairs, he can carry you or he can damn well wait.

"Fine, fine," he says, pulling the dress up and over his head, folding it back up into a neat little square. "But I always hold your hand anyway, so really what's the difference?"

(He's right - any time there's an opportunity for him to be arm in arm or holding your hand, he probably will be. He especially likes to swing your arm while he holds your hand, and if Caelum's with you, he gets to swing your arm and Caelum's too.)

(If there's nobody around, Caelum gets to walk in between you and Gavin, but that's not very often. It tends to get a few strange looks seeing as he's, well, invisible.)

"Last one!" He reaches over to the final flatlay and smiles giddily, all aflutter as he tries to decide which bit to put on first. The trousers, the bandeau, the shoes… Oh, it's all just too much, isn't it? "I like the look of this…"

"Actually…" you add sheepishly, "I have one last thing to give you."

Gavin freezes - well, as much as he can with one foot caught halfway in a trouser leg. "Deviant," he gently chastises, although the effect is lost slightly as he's hopping awkwardly on one leg trying to balance. "You know you really don't have to."

"Of course I don't. Didn't we just have this conversation?" You offer your elbow to help him balance, and he takes it gratefully. "But I said I want to spoil you, and I will. And anyway, maybe I want to wear them too. You telling me not to buy myself pretty clothes?"

You can practically hear his brain ticking as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. "Well, no, but-"

"Good. Now, jacket?" He nods, threading his arms through the sleeves as you hold it, although he's got that look in his eye that generally means he's plotting something. "I'm glad the bandeau fits - I was worried I'd picked the wrong size."

"No, no, not at all! It's just right, and with the velvet? This blue? It's deliciously soft, as well - couldn't have chosen better myself, darling. And it works with or without the top!" 

You have to agree - he looks incredible. The blazer is a rich, dark blue velvet to match the trousers, and skims over his shoulders and waist just the way you like. Two lines of gold buttons follow the straight sides of the pockets over his hips, a high waist and wide leg, and it's all offset by the neat line of the floral bandeau across his chest in white, orange, and pink.

"Gold, I take it?" You pass him a handful of rings and necklaces, and after some deliberation, a bracelet or two. "That reminds me - did you remember to give Vincent that necklace he wanted to borrow? The flower one?"

"Nearly forgot, but I rifted back to get it," he admits as he covers his fingers in rings. "He said it's for somewhere he's taking his lovely, but I don't think he ever said where, exactly. Speaking of outings, I did tell him all about the, well, 'diplomatic incident', as Lasko puts it, which went down a treat. Ooh, he countered with a magnificent story about a new set of silk sheets and a rather unfortunate lack of friction - or were they satin? If I'm honest, the fizz might have been getting to us by that point so I can't really remember, you must get him to tell you when we see him at the masquerade - but I think I outdid him with the story about the pool party from a few weeks ago, the one about the telepath and…. did we ever decide if the boyfriend was a stealth, or just unempowered?" He strikes a few poses in the mirror as he chatters away happily, making faces in the mirror like the world's dorkiest supermodel. "Mm, he was delicious, though - so expressive! I told you we should have gone over and said hello!"

Reaching over to grab it from the shelf, you smack his arm lightly with the sunhat from earlier, gently admonishing. "We should not have said hello! The poor thing was already having enough trouble - he'd probably have keeled over!"

"Spoilsport. It wouldn't have mattered, I'm very good at mouth-to-mouth… Alright, alright - ow! I'm stopping!" He playfully bats away the hat, laughing at your faux-scowl. "He did make for a much-appreciated pick-me-up, you must admit."

"Fair enough, fair enough. I'm just glad the telepath didn't notice you snacking on the pair of them."

"Mm, it's why I tend to avoid telepaths if I can - it can get messy, and not in the fun way. Luckily, they were both a little preoccupied, so I don't think they noticed at all." He blows one last exaggerated kiss to his reflection before meeting your eyes in the mirror. "Sure I can't offer you my services, love? You do seem to enjoy m-mm?"

"Not yet."

Your finger pressing against his lips shuts him right up, eyes crossing slightly as he tries to focus on it, and you even manage to pull your hand away before he can either lick it (it's happened before, not always in a good way) or bite it (the chance is low, but never zero). Before he can say anything, you hold up the little square-shaped bag from its hiding spot next to the wardrobe and thrust it at his chest, ushering him out of the door and into the bathroom.

"Come out when you're ready!" you shout through the door (hopefully he was telling the truth about those soundproof wards from earlier), heading back down the corridor to sit on the bed and wait for him.

(About thirty seconds pass before you remember that you didn't give him any shoes - hurriedly, you grab them off the shelf and run back to the bathroom door, opening the door and chucking them inside without looking so you don't accidentally spoil the surprise. The muffled squawking from behind the door indicates that he probably wasn't expecting to be attacked by a flying pair of heels, but the lack of indignant whining confirms that you didn't hit him.)

(Probably.)

Five or ten minutes go by and you make yourself comfortable on the bed, moving a few stray bits of clothing and jewellery onto the vanity to deal with later. There's no discernible sound from the bathroom, so you can only assume that he's alright in there. Does he like it? Is it a bit much? The top is one he already owns that you'd had to chuck in the top of the bag while he wasn't looking (you didn't trust yourself to buy a new one), and obviously the shoes aren't from today, but the rest is all new. 

He definitely knows what he's getting into, although you'd bet he was a little surprised at how much was in the bag when you'd handed it to him. You see, he's bought you a thing or two from that particular… establishment before, and (despite the rather steep price tag) there doesn't tend to be very much fabric at all. In order to conceal as much as possible, you'd had to stick the other parts of the outfit in the top of the bag while he'd been distracted getting changed - thankfully, none of it takes up too much room.

In any case, it shouldn't be anything too out of the ordinary for him, right? What's that sound? He wears all black sometimes, doesn't he? He's definitely worn this sort o-

"Mm, deviant. You know me far too well."

Oh.

Oh.

(Seems like he does like it…?)

You'd known what was coming, but it doesn't stop Gavin from absolutely taking your breath away, standing silhouetted in the doorway. The top looks as good as you remember - a plain overbust corset in soft, buttery leather, the sweetheart shape leaving plenty on display. The miniskirt is perfect as well, high waist sitting just right, two rows of big gold eyelets running down from the waist over the front of his left thigh, laced together with a thick black ribbon. Your gaze drops lower, lower, over long, lean legs and a vicious pair of heels, jet black patent leather all glossy and smooth. 

Oh, and a pair of long, mesh opera gloves, ruched above the elbow, flashes of hot pink just peeking through at his fingertips. Can't forget those.

"Enjoying the view, little voyeur?"

He smirks, gloved fingers drumming against the doorframe before he shifts his weight, drifting forwards to stand just in front of you. In the mirror behind him, you can see all of the laces down his back, disappearing into the skirt, perfectly done as usual. Thank goodness for psychokinesis. "There's certainly a lot to admire."

"I, um…" you stutter eloquently. "You - wow."

"Oh, compliments to the chef, I say - my lovely stylist deserves all the credit." He reaches out to take your hand in his, guiding your fingers over the curves and edges of the leather across his torso. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting a lovely present like this today. Is it my birthday already?"

See, now he's just teasing you for the sake of it. "Do I need a reason to dress you up?" You slide your hand up and over his shoulder as you speak, and he takes that as permission to perch himself sideways on your lap, stiletto heels clicking against each other as he makes himself comfortable. "You look incredible, love. What do you think?"

"Me? I love it!" he trills, flirtation momentarily abandoned as he eyes your combined reflection gleefully in the mirror. "Where did you even find the skirt? It's amazing. The laces are fantastic, and the - ooh, that reminds me, I have to wear the gloves to lunch with Lasko on Monday."

"You'll have to bring a defibrillator," you say, deadpan, as he snickers. "Can you imagine? He has enough trouble as it is when you turn up in a crop top - you'll kill him with those!"

"Eh, he'll live. He survived a whole day at the beach with us - he can handle a little pair of gloves, no problem." He leans in, whispering conspiratorially in your ear. "We do have company for lunch next week, though - Damien might be surprised…"

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his wicked smile. "Just don't set anything on fire. Or don't leave any evidence, if you do."

Speaking of evidence… "You know, I'm starting to think this outfit needs something more."

He blinks, surprised. "Hmm?"

"Yeah. Something extra, something to just- I don't know, finish it off, I guess." Your hand slips down his back to settle teasingly at his waist, and he seems to realise what's going on.

"You say it needs a bit more, but I disagree." he purrs into your neck, toying with the hem of the skirt. "I think it needs a little less…" He shifts on top of you, pressing himself insistently against your chest. "Don't you want to see what's underneath?"

His lips, soft and slow against your neck. "After all, you bought it."

The room spins for a second, still and close and hot, and you almost, almost fold. You are looking forward to seeing that.

"Tell me then, my deviant. What, exactly, do you have in mind?"

A second or two of fumbling behind you, before your fingers close around your prize - a familiar little cylinder, slim and short and smooth. Thank goodness he keeps his kit by the vanity and not in the bathroom. You hold it up in front of his face with a flick of your wrist, watching his eyes blow wide when he realises what it is.

"Close your eyes for me?"

He acquiesces, tilting his head back, lips barely parted as you twist the cap off with a click. Poor, precious thing - he seems to think it's for him.

Nothing happens for a few seconds, until-

"Deviant? I- mmm!" His eyes fly open as you kiss him hungrily, bright red lipstick smearing across his lips and chin. "So - nng! - so that's, ah, what that was fo-or…" You tug at his hips as you trail needy kisses along his jaw until he gets the picture, clumsily rearranging himself until he's straddling your lap.

Your lips find that soft spot just under his jawbone, a trail of lightly pink-tinted saliva dripping down his neck, and it's like his whole body goes slack - you watch in the mirror as he shudders and writhes against you, arching into your kisses, chest heaving as he moans and gasps into the quiet air of your bedroom. The line of lipstick kisses dips lower and lower, stickier and sloppier as you go. His gloved hands clutch at your shoulders, nails threatening to tear right through the delicate mesh, and it's only a matter of time before he takes them off, or gets too impatient and just magics all of your clothes off. 

(He'd better not. You paid good money for what he's wearing underneath that skirt - you'll be damned if you don't get to see it.) 

"More?" you ask hoarsely, when you feel the lipstick drying out on your lips. He nods frantically, looking as much of a trainwreck as you feel, and before you have a chance to search for the little tube, desperate fingers find your chin and draw you back in for another messy kiss. The taste of grenadine, orange juice, strawberries-and-cream - all of it fades away until all that's left is the taste of him. Lovely, gorgeous, beautiful Gavin - the man who plays Mario Kart at full volume, and blows kisses to the mirror as he twirls around under your arm in his new dresses, and regales you with story after story of the time he and Vincent didn't mean to cause a low-speed traffic incident, we promise, deviant!

That man really is something else, you know. How on earth did you get so lucky?

He pulls away with a brilliant smile, lipstick all over his teeth, the world's most stunning supermodel, and the rest of the world disappears.

(Including most of your clothes.)

"Now then, my deviant…"

(Unfortunately, the lipstick stains all over the sheets the next morning do not magically disappear - you have to wash them twice before they're back to normal.)

"Shall we see what else you bought me?"

(Never mind. It was worth it.)

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[animeomegas]

Omega!Naruto Characters - Death from a broken heart.

Anon:  I don't know if you do, but some aus say that a person can't sruvive after their mate dies, like they die from a broken heart. Do you have that in yours, can you write who would be most likely to die mayeb please xx

(I love this headcanon! In my au, I think that if a person feels like they have nothing left to live for after their mate dies, they die with them. This is my ranking for how the boys would react when you had been mated for a while, but before having children. 

I wrote a Naruto one first, but I’m already half way through a BNHA version, so look out for that.)

Warnings: Suicide, major death, depression.

LEAST

1. Naruto – ALIVE – He is in mourning for a long time, but ultimately, he manages to turn your death into something meaningful. He memorialises you with a beautiful shrine in your home that he can’t bear to leave. He tries to ‘solve’ whatever it was that killed you. For example, if you died from sickness, he would assign lots more funds into the hospital and medicinal research. It’s not easy for him at all, but he could move on someday and take another mate, many years down the line. He has so much love to give and he wants to receive love in return, and he knows you would want him to be happy. However, he would never tolerate a new mate who was jealous of you or wanted him to get rid of your shrine. He could never do that to your memory. He picks a mate he knows you would love.

2. Iruka – ALIVE – He is deeply depressed when you die. He throws himself into his work as much as he can, distracting himself until he has a complete breakdown. He relies on his friends a lot during this time. Iruka eventually learns to distract himself in healthier ways, processing with your death in smaller increments rather than all at once. He might get another mate, but it would be very unlikely I think. It would be more likely that Iruka decides to adopt an orphan and throw himself into raising that child with as much love as he can. He would raise the child knowing you as their other parent, telling them stories about you, showing him pictures and visiting your grave with them.

3. Gaara – ALIVE – He is angry. It has been a long time since he was this angry. Gaara blames himself for a long time, which sends him down a dark path. Ultimately what saves him is his siblings. They keep him sane and happy to the best of their abilities and Gaara throws himself into his family as a result. It’s the only place where he can feel okay, if only for a little bit. If his siblings ever have pups, Gaara is committed to being the greatest uncle of all time and the pups love him. However, he can’t help but get lost in his thoughts sometimes, wondering what your children would have been like. He misses you every second of every day. He would be extremely unlikely to get mated again.

4. Shikamaru – ALIVE – He is furious. With the situation, with himself, and with you, for leaving him alone when you promised you wouldn’t. Another one who leans a lot on his friends and family to get him through the darkest time in his life. He lashes out at people and is very difficult to deal with after you die. I definitely see him as the kind of person to take on one of your hobbies to help him deal with your loss. Whatever it was you loved to do the most, he will start doing as a way to ensure that he will never forget you. He may get mated again, he may not, it depends a lot on if he meets someone he falls in love with again. But if the clan elders ever try and push him to mate again so that he can have an heir, he will flip his shit big time. He sees it as a direct attack on your memory.

5. Shino – ALIVE – He withdraws into himself. He speaks to no one other than his father for about a month after your death, refusing to go about his life as normal. Because it’s not normal and it will never be normal again. He takes a long hiatus from missions which he spends sorting through his thoughts and memories of you. The things he never said, the things he never got to do, the things he should have done. He tortures himself for a few weeks before his father pulls him out of his slump by force. They go for walks together, trying to find certain bugs, just like they did when he was a child. They cook together, Shibi closely monitoring Shino’s diet, knowing that hunger takes a big hit after the death of a mate. This is what saves Shino, but he will never mate again. He refuses. He couldn’t do that to your memory, but he also couldn’t do it to himself. Not again.

6. Neji – ALIVE – He gets so close to death. He stops eating, stops getting out of bed, stops working. He just lays there wasting away. He is convinced that he’s going to die and he feels weirdly happy about that. He doesn’t fight it at all, but instead embraces all his misery. It’s when his teammates come to visit him that everything changes. They find him close to death and panic. They rush him to the hospital, making sure that someone is with him at all times. They tell jokes, they organise games and read to him, anything to make him feel better. And it works enough that he can leave the hospital in a fortnight. Even after that, they keep up around the clock supervision for him, making sure that he is never alone with his dark thoughts for too long. Slowly, but surely, he recovers. But he never forgets. And he certainly never mates again.

7. Itachi – DEAD (kind of) -  Itachi shuts down, but he doesn’t die, at least not immediately. He hyper focuses on his plan, following the steps automatically. He’s happy with every step he completes, because he knows the final step is his death. He clings to the knowledge that he will die soon, which ironically is the only thing that keeps him alive. He is colder than ever. From an outsider’s perspective it might not seem that he is that affected, but when he’s alone he just sits in silence, sometimes tears run down his face. When he is finally an inch from death at the hands of his brother, he smiles. He doesn’t think he’ll see you again. He doesn’t think he deserves that kind of happiness. People like him don’t deserve that. But at least, he hopes, it might stop hurting.

8. Kakashi – DEAD – He’s been through so much, that he thinks he should be able to cope by now. He knew this was going to happen after all. He waited so long to get mated, because he was scared, because he knew that you would leave him or be taken from him like everyone else. He’s tired. He’s so tired. He’s probably at least nearly 40 at this point, he’s far older than he ever thought he’d be. You taught him what it meant to truly live, not just survive. He can’t go back to how he was, he can’t. He goes to your funeral and stands there in silence. He accepts every condolence and offer of help with a silent nod. He promises his friends that he will go to a specialist therapist first thing in the morning. When everybody leaves, he sits by your grave all night, asking you for forgiveness for everything. For not being quick enough to save you, for pushing you away so much at the beginning of your relationship, and finally, forgiveness for what he’s about to do. He knows you would tell him to fight and survive the heartbreak, but he can’t. He heads back to his apartment for the final time, breathing in the air and taking in the sights. He piles everything he has that smells like you onto his bed and lays down in it. He apologises one final time before closing his eyes, knowing that he won’t be waking up.

9.  Sasuke – DEAD – He should have known his would happen. Everything he loves gets ripped away from him, so why would you be any different? He’s furious when he hears the news. He destroys your house, throwing and smashing everything he can get his hands on. And when he’s destroyed everything, he just sits down in the middle of the living room floor and cries. He knows that people will show up soon. He knows that everyone knows he’s at risk for hurting himself, but he won’t let them take away his choice. He doesn’t want to do it anymore, he just wants to be with you. So he collects himself for a moment and then he runs. He doesn’t pick a place he just runs where he knows no one will think to look. He ends up sitting in between some trees on the floor of a training ground no one uses. He watches the stars for a few minutes, remembering every time he would do that together with you. He talks to you quietly, closing his eyes and convincing himself that you’re laying beside him. In the end, he doesn’t wait to die from his broken heart, he does it himself.

MOST

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

------------------------

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”

[candiedsour]

A picnic with the Genshin boys ❤|| Genshin Impact x GN!reader Head cannons

Hello! This is the author here.（｡>‿‿<｡ ） I have been gone for the past few days and I apologize for the lack of content.(o´∀`o) Though, I felt as if the hiatus was kind of a necessity since I didn't really want to get burnt out （┬┬＿┬┬）. Don't get me wrong, I love writing but I wrote a lot more than usual since I just started my blog, I soon realised that it was probably too much for me to handle.(　；∀；) The next post will probably be posted in a few days or so (i hope)(;-;)so stay tuned! (*°∀°)=3.

-E

Diluc 🍷💵

He felt guilty for not being able to be with you since he was busy because of the Abyss Order

You told him that you didn't mind and that you completely understood how important that was for Mondstadt

But that didn't stop him from trying to make it up to you once the whole ordeal was over though

He took you to the bank of the little pond/river like area to the West of Dawn Winery

You caught some fish by yourselves and cooked it with some sweet flowers you found nearby

He also brought some of his top-quality wine for the occasion

"I deeply apologise for my absence these few days. Please, allow me to make it up to you"

Albedo 📃👨‍🔬

You decided that it would be good for him to get some fresh air and sun from the outside once in a while so you convinced him to take a day off

You went to Starsnatch Cliff and took Klee with you since it's been a while since she's been over to that area

You set up a little tent there and stayed the night

All three of you watched the stars before you slept and Albedo made a sketch of you and Klee picking Cecelias

"I find it quite intriguing that you are the only picture I can draw without ever losing interest. Perhaps it is because you never cease to amaze me? "

Zhongli ☄🧩

You were angry at the fact that he faked his death without telling you and he was trying his best to make it up to you for the whole week

He tried buying you a lot of your favourite food, items and little trinkets that he thought you would appreciate, all the while apologizing profusely to you

After a while he realized that his way of apologizing isn't getting anywhere

He brought you to the Luhua Pool for some sightseeing and set up a little picnic for you two

You saw how he was making a lot of effort to try to gain your forgiveness so you decided to stop ignoring him after a few more weeks

"I have long realized that you have no need for someone like me and it seems I had made a very severe mistake this time. Although I cannot promise you a happier future; it is my foolish wish that you are willing to stay with me. "

Childe 🌊🏹

Since he was back in Liyue for a while he insisted that you two went out on a date

You thought he was going to take you to a restaurant first, but then you realised it probably wasn't the case when you started going in the trail to the top of Mt. Tianheng

The climb itself felt as if it were a date since you two were flirting and joking all the way to the top

Once you were at the top though, you saw that he laid a large picnic blanket on the ground and there was a picnic basket right in the middle

It was a pain to walk all the way back to Liyue but it was worth it since you got some quality bonding time with Childe

"Ah, it seems like I have no need to carry this basket back. Would you like to be encaged in my arms perchance? "

[tutuandscoot]

I checked out of hospital today so I wrote a little post on my personal IG but thought I’d share it here too. I know someone asked how I was doing and I will fill you all in on the past week of events soon- it’s just been a long day so there’s this for now:

You mean it? Sweet Freedom!! 🤩

Checked out of hospital today- 13 days after my fusion surgery and just 5 days after ASC tethering surgery. While now it seems like it went quick, it did not and there were some crazy hard days: first surgery not going directly to plan- losing half my blood resulting in 4 transfusions + brief coma and putting off part two of the surgery for another week. Screaming in the middle of the night to get these nuts and bolts out of me. Figuring out that I can’t touch my toes anymore 😅 (I eventually will), and lots of un-explained moments of emotion. While I was busting to get out I couldn’t help but feel so ridiculously grateful and frankly a little dependent on the amazing care at Calvary Nth Adelaide Hospital- the staff, nurses,-thanks for putting up with my constant over apologetic/compensatory politeness (saying thank you 3+ times for literally just getting me a glass of water or apologising profusely for crying even tho I just had my spine re adjusted 50 degrees), me being high AF and ranting about Hungarian folk dancing post-2nd op(??), getting heat pads for me every 1/2 an hour etc….

there are mixed emotions: I’m glad this is done- I wish it didn’t have to be in the first place. I don’t love my new body yet (not that I loved my old one either) but that will all come with time- 4 nights ago I was in ICU nearly having a seizure so I should probably be kinder to myself.

None of this would have been possible without the amazing work of @drmikeselby - thank you for fixing a very broken girl. Thank you for leading the charge for tethering surgery in Australia so even a little retired ballerina like me can maybe do an arabesque again one day. I just happen to be the first ‘hybrid’ (fusion+tethering) scoliosis surgery subject in Australia!

If this was an Oscar’s acceptance speech I would’ve been booed off by now but it’s not so I’ll keep going. All the messages, literally daily from so many people- telling me I’m inspiring to you just sounds like the most BS thing in the world to me but thanks for saying it anyway- I don’t believe it one bit but seriously- THANKYOU

[bored-mumma]

Text Message Part Two - Chris Evans x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

TITLE: Text message CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 WORD COUNT: 2104 (I got carried away) ORIGINAL IMAGINE: This by @theartofimagining13​ NOTES/WARNINGS: Swearing. Arguments. Gaslighting and toxic behavior. This is the final chapter for sure. Also I wrote this so quickly it just kind of flowered I bloody loved it. Maybe some proof-reading errors. 

Small patches of light crept in through your window, barely being blocked by the blinds. Birds sang their songs from outside, trees swayed gently in the breeze. Everything indicted a calm, warm morning. Except that was far from how things were for you.

Last night, you told your boyfriend, Chris, to not bother coming home if he's going to continue to accuse you and ask to check through your phone. And he didn’t come home. You stayed awake for a long time after getting home. By the time you calmed down, had a bubble bath and watched some TV, it was three in the morning and still no sign of Chris. With a sad sigh, you turned off the telly, rolled over and attempted some sleep.

Now it was nearly nine in the morning. You awoke with groggy eyes, feeling extremely deflated and your cheeks dry from the tears you shed last night. You weren't used to waking up in a cold bed alone. Usually, Chris would awake first. He would roll over, wrap his arms around your waist and gently wake you with his warmth and kisses to your cheek. It was a wake-up call you always adored, no matter what time it would be. But today just felt cold and lonely.

Sitting up, you reached to grab your phone from your bedside table, your stomach turning as you remember more of the argument from the night before. Half of you hoped you would see some messages from Chris, maybe some missed calls. Something to tell you he was sorry and saw the error of his ways. But as you scrolled through all your notifications, you realised there was nothing from him. You debated whether or not to be the bigger person, to text him first and apologise but your stubborn side came out to play before you could - you technically didn't have anything to apologise for! He was the overly jealous one. He was the one who ruined nearly every date you had with his accusations. He was the one who wanted to breach your privacy. You were nothing less than a faithful girlfriend who fell in love with a man with a lot of emotional baggage.

That morning dragged like crazy. You took a shower to try and clear your mind, even ordered in your favourite breakfast from the diner down the street. But your mind always wandered back to Chris. You realised you weren't even sure where he stayed! Was he safe? Just as panic was starting to flow through you, your phone pinged.

Can we talk?

Chris had text you first. Part of you was so happy he did. Maybe that meant he realised he was the one in the wrong and therefore he was the one who had to make the first move to make it right! The other part of you hated the vague words of the message. Can we talk? Does that mean Chris wants to make things better or... No, no it must mean he wants to make everything better. You two were an amazing couple, fully infatuated with each other. It just Chris' insecurity got in the way sometimes. You felt for him and the heartbreak he must have felt when he discovered his ex-fiancée was having an affair with his best friend and you understood how that would affect his ability to trust. But this was getting too much for you to handle. He was right. You guys needed to have a nice long, good talk.

You text him back asking what time he could come home and he replied saying he can be there in twenty minutes. You pottered around as you waited. Made some tea for you both, quickly did some tidying, basically did what you could to try and not overthink what you will say to Chris. However, before you knew it, you heard a key in the door and Chris stepping inside. You walked over to see him and the two of you stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi." He said at last.

"Hello." You replied. The air felt awkward and thick. You hated it. "Take a seat, I made you some tea." You scurried out into the kitchen as Chris made himself comfortable. You took your time grabbing the tea, your heart was beating like crazy from nerves. You didn't know what you wanted to say. All you knew, was you desperately wanted things to change. You were so unhappy and that wasn't fair for you! You came back into the living room with the tea to see Chris sitting on the armchair, still wearing his coat and shoes indicating he doesn't plan on staying for very long.

"Thank you," He said, taking his mug. "Look, we need to talk about what happened last night." He sounded quiet, his voice hoarse. As you listened, you noticed the bags under his eyes and how his clothes, the ones he was wearing last night, were all dishevelled, like he slept in them. "This is not how I want my relationship to go," He continued. "I love you. I just... I struggle to trust you. Which is my problem! I know that! And I'll work on that. But you have to meet me in the middle here."

"Meet you in the middle?" You asked, shaking your head slightly with confusion. Chris took a deep breath before he explained.

"I feel like it's unfair you wouldn't let me have your phone last night." He said it like it was so obvious. It took all your strength not to interrupt him, telling him to stop talking before he starts pissing you off. "I mean, I let you use mine all the time. You know I have trust issues, I was just asking for a little help to deal with that."

"I shouldn't have to give up my privacy to help you with your issues." You said, a little more harshly than you intended. "How about couples therapy? Get through this without breaking any boundaries." You tried to reason but it became clear that was not a good route to take. Chris stood and started to pace around the chairs.

"Why do you need privacy from me? I'm your boyfriend! We don't need to waste our time at therapy. All I'm asking is for one simple thing. You can look through mine and I'll look through yours." He stood in front of you now, his frame towered over yours which was still sat on the chair. "You wonder why I get so jealous or - or possessive and then go pull some bullshit like last night!"

"I didn't pull any bullshit!" You said, standing up to meet Chris' harsh gaze. "I asked you to sort your shit out. What about this screams like a good relationship to you Chris? The yelling, the accusations, the constant checking up on me!"

"I don't check up on you." He looked at you like you were mad.

"You call me about fifty thousand times a day, Chris. Which I wouldn't mind so much if you didn't get neurotic every time I accidentally missed a call or took too long to answer a message." You felt tears start to sting your eyes as you finally allowed all your frustrations out, voice getting louder with each word. Usually, you would just try and help Chris in any way you could but no more. No more would you roll over and let him have his way. "You're controlling and jealous all the god-damn time Chris and I can't cope with it anymore!"

The two of you stood still, staring at each other. Both knowing what was coming, neither wanting to be the one to do it. Eventually, you took the jump.

"I don't..." You swallowed, trying hard to not let too much emotion out. You knew if you did, you would break down crying. "I don't think this is working anymore, Chris." You looked away, not bearing to watch the tears that were starting to drop from his eyes. He stepped closer to you so that your bodies were touching. You could smell his cologne, feel his warmth. My God you loved him. "I think our time together is done." You felt his hand under your chin, two fingers holding it and tilting your head so you looked up at him. Using his other hand, he brushed some hair from your face. You felt the familiar tingle on your skin where he touched you. Even after all this time together, he still made you giddy. You stared at him in the eyes as he held you.

"Who is he?" He whispered.

Your head span when he asked. What? What the hell? Who's who? You realised what he meant. Even now, he thinks there's someone else. Even when his possessiveness has pushed you so far to the edge you had no choice but to jump. He still believed your heart belonged to another. You realised right then, nothing will ever make him believe you. You could stand here and rip your chest open, bleeding out as you gave him your heart and he would still tell you it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. His trauma was too much for you to handle anymore and it was finally time to start putting yourself first again.

"I know you probably won't believe me Chris, but I need you to listen to me." You took his face in your hands, making sure to make strong eye contact as you spoke. "I love you. No one else, ok? Never anyone else. I was faithful. I was strong. I loved you more than I thought I ever could." The tears started to fall from both your eyes at a much quicker pace. "None of the incredible things that have happened to me in the past few years would have happened to me without you. I owe you for that. But I owe myself to be happy too." You used your thumb to wipe away some of the tears from his cheeks. "I love you. So much. But we need to end. I can't do this anymore." Chris took your hands in his. He pressed his lips against them both as a way to muffle his cries. "I'm so sorry." You sobbed. "I'm sorry Chris. I wish I was strong enough to keep going but I'm not. I love you."

Chris dropped your hands and grabbed your face, bringing it towards him as he hurriedly captured your lips in a breath-taking kiss. He held you close to him, your kiss becoming salty as your tears mixed on your tongues. He tasted of his usual toothpaste along with some of the tea he barely touched. His hair felt soft as you ran one of your hands through it, using the other to grab his coat and pull him closer. When the need for air became too much, you pulled away, chest rising and falling as you both tried to catch your breath. You stared at him, debating whether this was the right choice. You loved him so much your heart hurt. But what came next... you knew you made the right decision.

"Does he kiss you like that?"

Your mouth dropped at those words. Nothing would ever change. You walked away from him, picking up his keys from the table and handing them over to him.

"I'm at work tomorrow, I'll make sure your stuff is packed and ready for you to collect whilst I'm out." You muttered. You had cried too much all ready for a relationship that died months ago. You refused to cry anymore. Chris took the keys from your grip and stared at you. His jaw twitched. Clearly words were trying to escape from his lips but he wouldn't let them. You had never seen Chris like this. You couldn't tell what he was feeling. But that was no longer your problem.

"I hope he breaks your heart like you did mine," Chris said at last. When you didn't reply, Chris let out a dry laugh before walking out of your home. For the very last time.

You finally allowed yourself raw emotions. You collapsed onto your sofa, hands scrunched over your face as you bellowed, cries echoing off the walls. You could feel your heart breaking in two as you realised he would never hold you again. That you would never wake up to his hugs, that would never taste his lips on yours again. But it was for the best. You deserved someone who would trust you and that someone, sadly, would not be Chris Evans. No matter how much you loved him, he was not the man you were destined to be with.

A/N: Oh I’m sorry you wanted a happy ending? We don’t do that here.

[jerry-hornes-foot]

Incoming duffer brothers rant :)

I'm still fuckin mad that Steve says the f slur in season one, for a lot of reasons

- Point 1

Like a lot of choices the duffers make it simply has big edgelord teenage boy energy. Like they saw a chance to crowbar a slur into their show and jumped at it and that always annoys me. It's the sort of thing that you need a really really solid reason to use, and to be honest in the case of two cishet men writing a programme I just don't really see the need at all

There's no plot reason for it at all, at no point before or after that is it even hinted that Steve is homophobic, and so it shouldn't be in his vocabulary. It doesn't say anything about the plot, or the characters, it's not even making comment on social issues. It's just there to make you go "oh my god I can't believe he said that!"

-Point 2

It's just dumped into the middle of an episode because they literally forgot what Steve's character was. They wrote him to be a bully, except they accidentally made him a perfectly reasonable guy right up to that moment. He tells his friends to stop bullying Jonathan, he's nice to Barb, he only breaks Jonathan's camera because he used it to commit a literal sex offence against Nancy, then they suddenly remember he's meant to be a bad guy and in the space of less than five minutes he paints the nancy sign on the cinema and says a slur.

It's as if they got to that scene and realised they'd made Jonathan the bad guy by accident then went "uhhh fuck, let's just have him do the most heinous shit we can imagine out of nowhere". It feels rushed, and a bit lazy, and to be honest the fact that they use the slur literally just for the shock factor makes the whole thing worse for me

- Point 3

They never address it ever again. Steve learns nothing from it. Yes, he goes to apologise to Jonathan, but he could have also gone to apologise just for beating him up or for calling him some other horrible (not bigoted) name

It's an issue that plagues a lot of the duffer brothers writing where they tack a really awful character trait onto someone for shock value and then forget they did it. The same thing with Jonathan and the creeper photos, in seasons 2-4 Jonathan is just a sweet misunderstood teenager, and that element of season 1 is never addressed to the point that one can only assume we're meant to pretend it never happened.

Steve never has an arc surrounding use of language like that, he never actively regrets it, he never even actually gets given a moment to apologise. It just gets left there to hang over the character as this weird out of place element. I think story wise season 1 is probably the strongest, but the characters are all fundamentally different people to the point that watching back certain scenes is jarring. Which, for me, just reinforces point 1, its so whiplash inducing how out of place it is that it just makes me feel even more that they picked it just for shock

- Point 4

This is what made me furiously write this in the middle of the night. No one says fuck in stranger things. It's rated 18 and there's one fuck ever (afaik). There are characters like Eddie who will occasionally get given really clunky lines because they use shit or damn in a place any normal person would just say fuck. Especially with Eddie, in fact, the awkwardness of the lack of fucks makes it feel super intentional

If they just didn't want a word as strong as fuck in their programme, fine, but that doesn't really fit right in a programme where they were happy to fire in the f slur when there was half as much adult content in the programme as a whole

~~~~

Maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing, it just makes me feel super yucky anytime I watch that scene and I wanted to share my thoughts on it. I've seen people talk about it before in terms of Steve as a person but I've been thinking for a while now about it in relation to the text as a whole

Anyway if you made it this far well done hahaha thank you for sticking it out, sorry for getting mad !

[oddshelbyout]

Ready Or Not // Thomas Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the long term girlfriend of Tommy, he asks you to marry you but you’re not sure. You run away after a fight and he looks for you.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Fighting

Word Count: 1537

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Author’s Note:

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

I’ll make a masterlist soon so it will be easier for us all to find my works.

This one was a hard one to write for me and I’m not sure if some parts turned out well but I still hope you’ll enjoy it.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

———————

The sun had just started rising. Sunshine was leaking into Tommy’s study room between the curtains. He opened his eyes slowly, he couldn’t believe it was already the morning.

He was exhausted, not getting enough sleep was never a problem for him but when he woke up that morning he felt extremely tired. That tiredness wasn’t because of the lack of sleep though. As he got up from the couch he was laying on, he remembered what happened last night.

He and you had a big fight last night. It was a fight neither of you could forget. It was also your first big fight because you always understood him better than everyone else.

He walked to his desk, grabbed a cigarette and lit it. He looked around the room like he was looking for something. He had slept in the study room last night because you wouldn’t let him sleep with you. He could’ve slept in any other room in the house but he chose the study room instead for a reason he can’t recall.

Tommy was drunk when he got home the night before. That wasn’t unusual but that time, he was extra irrational, more irrational than you ever saw him.

He remembered finding you in the kitchen, baking in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t let the staff do it for you because you needed a distraction.

He entered the kitchen, barely walking straight. “Have you made up your mind?” he asked you, you hadn’t noticed him walk in before he started speaking.

“Yes.” you said simply as you poured your cake mix into a pan. “So you’ll marry me.” he said, you weren’t looking at him but you knew he had that impression he had on his face when he won.

“No I won’t.” you said sharply, you dropped the pan on the counter to even the batter, it made a loud noise. Tommy didn’t like the noise, found it threatening.

Tommy didn’t say anything, you looked at him, seeing his jaw clenched and obviously angry. “No need to be bitter Tom, I’m just not ready.” you confessed. You knew he probably wouldn’t understand that.

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Thomas Fucking Shelby?” he shouted when there was no reason to be so loud. You just stared at him and “Me, for now.” you mumbled.

“You live in my house, sleep in my bed and you don’t want to marry me huh?” he said loudly, not as loud as before though. You nodded, you really didn’t want to deal with angry Tommy at that moment.

“I’m not ready Tom!” you shouted, you were starting to get really angry. You pushed the cake pan into the oven.

“What are you waiting for? To get pregnant or me leaving my job? That’s what everyone else wants me to!” he shouted again. You couldn’t bear to hear him shout.

“I’m not ready because I haven’t told my parents about us yet!” you shouted back. Your parents were strict and your dad was a Lord, they would never ever let you marry him. They didn’t even know you were in Birmingham with him. They just assumed you were in your London home.

“Damn it Y/N!” he shouted again, he was getting more furious with each passing second. “I thought you were the kind who never listened to anyone! You don’t listen to me after all!” you hated that he said that.

“I listen to you and to be honest, I’m the only one who listens to you!” the walls of the room vibrated with your extremely loud voice. “Then marry me! We don’t need their permission!” you two just shouted at each other, back and forth.

“Fuck you Tommy! I’ll marry you when I want to!” you walked to him, stood right before his toes. He reached for your neck, “No Tommy, you won’t touch me, I won’t let you treat me like a pet.” you stopped his strong hands in a single motion.

“You will marry me.” he didn’t shout this time, he said softly, almost like he was begging. Tommy Shelby wasn’t the kind of person who begged, he was the person people begged to.

“I’m going to bed and I’m not gonna share it with you.” you sharply said. His lips parted like he was going to say something but you didn’t let him. “You either accept that I will marry you when I want or this is over.” you weren’t going to let Tommy have the last word. He was so used to having the last word and that had to change. Luckily, you were the only one to do so.

You started walking away, “Tell the maids to take the cake out.” you didn’t turn around to say that and just left the kitchen.

You expected Tommy to come to the room, at least try to sleep with you but he didn’t. You accepted that it was your time to leave, you believed that he wanted you to leave. You couldn’t sleep after that. You wrote a quick note, the small piece of paper just had “Goodbye.” written on it. You grabbed as much of your belongings as you could, left the note on the bedside table and left the house.

When Tommy woke up, he just assumed you were upstairs sleeping. He expected you to come down, ask him to apologise to you. He sat on his chair, reading his mail as he waited for you. That was when he woke up to what was happening.

He stormed out of his study, called in a maid to ask about you. The answer didn’t amuse him. He remembered the last thing you said but he just didn’t want to believe that would be what you did.

No matter how persuasive he was on the maid, she didn’t know where you went so he had no idea either. He got in his car, drove to Small Heath. He assumed you would go to Ada’s apartment because she was your friend.

He knocked on the door, “Where is she?” he asked his sister. Ada looked confused, “Who?” she had no idea what was going on. “Y/N! Who else could it be?” he shouted, it was too early in the morning for Ada to put up with Tommy’s bullshit.

“How would I know?” Ada asked, Tommy was more sad than angry but he had no idea how to show it properly. Ada saw Tommy as angry and nothing else. “You’re her friend!” he said, “Yes but I’m not responsible for her.” Ada was direct with her words. “Okay, get back inside.” Tommy said to her and left, he heard the door shut after him.

Tommy hopped back into his car and started driving to London. He couldn’t waste time knocking on every single door in Small Heath. He could feel you were in London if you were not with Ada.

After a long drive that felt longer than it was, he stopped his car in the middle of the street you lived in. Didn’t care what anyone would react to that. He tried to stay calm and knocked on your door as gentle as he could.

“Y/N please open!” Tommy said, you were behind the door, trying to decide what to say. You weren’t sure if you should open the door or not. You believed he was going to force you to marry and it was the last thing you wanted, making that clear last night.

“Go away Tommy!” you shouted behind the door. You started walking away from the door when you heard his voice again. “I will wait My Love.” you froze in the hallway. You just couldn’t believe he changed his mind and was going to do what you wanted instead of pushing his wishes on you.

“I will only open the door if you are serious.” you took a deep breath. He hurt you a lot last night, you weren’t going to accept any of his behaviour anymore.

“I am.” he said so softly that you could barely hear that. You opened the door, Tommy stood before you, hands closed in fists. His body obviously relaxed when he saw you.

“I’m sorry.” he said, he never apologised and this was the first time you expected him to do so. “I will wait until you are ready and ask your parents myself if I must.” you couldn’t believe what you heard.

You never saw him vulnerable and now he stood before you, with his guard completely down, asking for your forgiveness.

“Are you serious?” you asked, you couldn’t process seeing him like that. “Yes.” he said and nodded. You fell on him, put your arms around him. You hugged for a whole minute, it didn’t feel that long. You were both just very happy to have each other in your arms.

You pulled yourself back a little and just gave him a small kiss. “I love you Tommy Shelby.” and you smiled, “What if we stay in London for a while?” he asked you. You smiled bigger and just nodded.

Last night was rough but Tommy finally understood how important you were for him and accepted your terms.

[teumeku]

bang yedam x reader

yedam was born to love you

the first time you met, it was by the lake. an oddly heart-shaped lake with forget-me-not flowers nestled around it.

you stood by the lake, smiling happily as you felt a cool breeze lift your hair in a gentle wave. a small basket rested loosely on your arm, half full of the blue forget-me-nots that surrounded the lake. brushing your hair out of your face, you huffed, looking down at your basket helplessly.

your eyes flitted around the lake, all over the plants, to find one that you hadn't picked flowers from so that you didn't strip a plant of all of its flowers. your eyes wandered over to a couple of plants bunched together on the other side of the lake but your face fell when you noticed that a boy was already sitting there. (how you hadn't noticed him, you never figure out)

however, those were probably the only plants you hadn't picked flowers from and you huffed, mustering up the courage to walk over to him. "excuse me, do you mind if i picked some of these flowers too?" the boy looked up as you spoke and you, being shy, avoided his gaze.

he shook his head with a small smile, "of course not, go ahead."

you crouched down, a distance away from the boy, fingers carefully picking the first flower from this new plant. the two of you sat in silence for what seemed to be the next half-hour, simply plucking the little blue flowers until he got up, bidding you an awkward and quiet goodbye, which you returned shyly. (you might have caught him looking back at you a couple of times as he walked away, turning around quickly when you looked up but you couldn't blame him– you couldn't keep your eyes off him either)

the first time he told you he loved you was when you made him a flower crown.

"you made this? for me?" yedam stammered as you held out the little blue flower crown.

you nodded excitedly and he smiled shyly, taking the crown from your hands and placing it on his own head, "how do i look?"

"amazing! it looks amazing on you!" you exclaimed, adjusting the crown on his head so that it didn't fall off. he smiled happily, watching you fuss over him, straightening the crown, and brushing strands of his hair from his face and as he watched you, he felt his heart hammer against his chest, gathering the courage to say what he had long wanted to say.

he opened his mouth but closed it again, too scared to say anything. but as your gaze left the heart-shaped lake in front of you and wandered over to him, he knew that the grin on his face told you everything– he loved you.

the second time you met, it was in the palace. you, the admired royal, and yedam, the visiting, esteemed musician.

you looked curiously at the boy playing the violin– you'd never seen him before and, yet, it felt like you already knew him. he was wearing a blue suit, a delicate shade of forget-me-not blue that suited him perfectly, eyes closed as if he was lost in the music.

you turned to your mother, who was sitting next to you, also watching the orchestra at large and you nudged her gently– an action she had long since given up on telling you off for (it was not royal-like, she said). "mother, who's that?" you gestured towards the front and foremost violin player, the boy in blue.

"you've noticed him, have you? that's yedam, the violin player your father told you about last week. he's from another kingdom but he's visiting on our invitation– the king of his kingdom has told your father so much about yedam's musical talent and we couldn't resist inviting him," your mother explained, but you had stopped listening after she said his name.

yedam. you thought you'd heard his name before, but you didn't know where. and you certainly didn't know why you thought he'd look perfect with a flower crown. you couldn't get his name out of your head, wondering just why oh why a stranger seemed so familiar but you were snapped out of your haze when you felt as if someone was watching you.

you looked back at the orchestra, at yedam and you found that he was already looking at you, his face mirroring the same confused feeling you felt.

the second time he told you he loved you was when he left your kingdom, rolling away in a carriage, rolling away from you.

you smiled sadly at the boy in front of you, leaning back on the carriage that was meant to take him home, "i don't want you to go..."

over the past few months he'd been here, you'd grown more than fond of yedam, coming to enjoy his company much more than you'd ever enjoyed anyone else's. his hand tightened around yours, "i don't want to go either but i have to. it's only right that i honor the end of my invitation."

"will you ever come back? to the palace? to me?" you mumbled, feeling tears sting your eyes.

"i don't know... perhaps one day, i will be back. but until then, i cannot promise anything, i'm sorry," he whispered, fingers nimbly wiping away your tears.

he looked back at the carriage and you sighed, "it's okay, i didn't expect you to promise... you should, you know, go now. i expect your parents are waiting for you, go home to them."

he nodded sadly, climbing into the carriage and looking back at you, he said, "i'll miss you." you tried your best to give him a smile, "i'll miss you too."

the carriage began to move as you uttered the words and you watched his carriage roll over the hill. you saw him stick out his head, looking back at you, waving. he hesitated before he shouted back, "i love you!" and you, in your disoriented state, waved back until his carriage disappeared from your sight, to which you whispered quietly, "i love you too." and you never saw him again. (you think his face fell when you didn't say anything back and you couldn't help but feel guilty whenever you thought of it)

the third time you met, it was at a flower shop. it was his first day on the job and you just happened to wander along.

to say that it was a rainy day was an understatement. it was simply pouring outside and you, having not had the sense to check the weather before leaving your apartment, were now standing in a small flower shop, soaking wet and drenched in rainwater. you couldn't quite believe your luck, most shop owners or employees wouldn't want someone in their store dripping from head to toe in water but the boy now standing behind the counter was unbelievably nice.

having seen you trudge through the rain, he'd kindly stuck his head out of his flower shop door and offered you refuge in it. longing for some sort of warmth, you'd accepted his offer almost immediately after weighing your (minimal) options.

apologising profusely, you followed him into the flower shop attempting to dry yourself off before entering but as it was still raining, your efforts failed. looking back over his shoulder, though, he'd chuckled awkwardly and disappeared into a side room before appearing seconds later, handing you a dry towel, "i know the towel's not that big but..." his voice trailed off as you took the towel.

"no, no, it's fine. you helping me out of the rain was already good enough, thank you. and don't worry, i can help you mop up." you smiled at him, patting your hair with the towel to dry it.

he shrugged, "nah, don't worry about it, just keep warm." you looked at him, confusion written across your face, "but... won't the owner be mad? or– that's only if you're not the owner." you stopped yourself before you embarrassed yourself further.

he shook his head, laughing a little, "my mom's the owner, she won't mind."

"oh..." your voice trailed off as your eyes wandered around the shop, "do you mind if i, uhm, look around?"

"of course not, go ahead," he nodded, moving back to the counter awkwardly, "i'll just, uh, be here."

you looked around the little shop, eyes ranging over the many flower arrangements until they fell upon a certain blue bouquet. they looked familiar– not just the flowers, but the arrangement as well and you looked back at the boy, "what flowers are these?"

he looked up, "oh, those are forget-me-nots! they're my favorite flowers– have been since i was little."

"ah, i see," you paused for a fraction of a second as you surveyed the flowers and then you looked back at him once again. something fell into place in your mind and your heart leapt, for reasons unbeknownst to you. but it almost felt like your heart recognised the flowers, and recognised him.

the third time he told you he loved you was in his room, in the middle of the night, 5 months after your meeting in the flower shop.

you were panting, having raced to yedam's apartment at nearly midnight after he called you, frantically asking you to come over. the door opened and you half expected to see him in a state of dishevelment yet when you saw him, he was looking as normal as ever, wrapped up in a comfortable-looking hoodie. you opened your mouth to scold him for sending you into a state of panic but he spoke before you said anything, "i'm sorry for making you come over but i just finished a song and i wanted you to listen to it and... yeah."

you smiled incredulously, rolling your eyes playfully but you said nothing, just letting him lead you to his room. "here, put these on," he handed you his headphones, the ones you had seen him wear on multiple occasions whenever he was working on a new song.

you took them from him, putting them over your ears as yedam clicked the play button on his computer and the song started playing. it was a beautiful song– not only the music but his voice, as well. there was no way to explain how much you liked it and as it came to an end, you took off the headphones, looking at him, "yedam, that was... beautiful."

"is it?" he smiled sheepishly, "i guess it should be because, you know, i wrote it about... you."

you felt your cheeks heat up and you shyly avoided his gaze, even though you knew he was watching you, "what is it called?"

"born to love you."

the fourth time you met, it was at school. or, you didn't meet him. only saw him, and he only saw you. but that's good enough.

it was the first day of school, back in this familiar, old school with it's blue walls, a bright forget-me-not shade. but however familiar the school was to you, whatever hallway you were currently walking in was not. first period hadn't started yet, but you'd begun your trek to class early solely for the reason of... you don't know where your classroom even is.

finally, after having popped your head into multiple classrooms, asking teachers for directions to the class, you came to stand in front of classroom 057. you peered into the class, to scope it out– it was brighter than the hallway, which was dull, with its lights flickering miserably. the teacher wasn't in yet, or perhaps had left the classroom for a little bit, and the classroom was empty except for the boy sitting in a desk on the other side of the classroom.

he was hunched over a book and in any case seemed much too preoccupied to notice you but he looked up as you entered the class. he looked vaguely familiar as your eyes met but his gaze flickered back down to his book in an instant, his hair falling to cover the side of his face from your view.

you shrugged it off, picking a seat in the back of the classroom as the bell rang. yet, as the rest of the students filed into the classroom, you found your eyes flit back to the boy and for a quick second, you could have sworn you saw him look back at you as well.

today, yedam arrived at school earlier than normal, took a deep breath, and left a present for you on your desk.

you paused as you approached your desk, noticing a neat envelope laying on the surface of your familiar desk. you eyed it warily, not knowing who had left it yet you found yourself too curious to stop yourself from picking it up. you carefully opened it, peeling the flap up so you could see what was inside it.

you noticed the blue flower first and you gently took it out from the envelope. it was a fully bloomed forget-me-not flower. something stirred in your thoughts, a blurry image of a heart shaped lake taking over the front of your mind. you shook it off, not knowing what to think. instead, you peered into the envelope again. there was a letter inside and you slid it out, unfolding it as you did so. you began to read it, eyes moving quickly over the words in ink, barely breathing.

"dear (reader), you don't know me. i think. well, we met recently, on the first day of school but i don't know if you remember me– from before, i mean. in fact, i'm not even sure if writing this letter to you is a good idea. or maybe writing it is good, leaving it for you to read might not be. but if you're reading this now, i guess it's too late to take it back, right? i just hope you don't think i'm weird– though, if you do, i'd understand why. but, anyway, as you can see, i'm not sure of that many things in this world. i don't think i ever have been. but when i met you on the first day of school, i was finally sure of one thing. you see, i think i was born to love you. (p.s. i picked the forget-me-not from my garden, in hopes that it would remind you of me.)"

you let out a sigh that you didn't know you'd been holding in. you turned over the letter, in search of a signature from the writer but to no avail. instead, you gently picked up the blue flower, touching one of the soft petals and you felt something deep in your heart, eyes widening as you remembered everything. the heart shaped lake, the forget-me-not flowers, the palace, the shop. his smile, his face, his voice, his touch, him. you remembered yedam.

—

hihi (´• ω •`)ﾉ i’m back after like... a month with a longer scenario !! and it’s my first non bullet pointed scenario !! and if it was confusing, it's about ur past lives with yedam and ur current life with him. i don't know if it's weird though (╥﹏╥) obviously, this is based on... yedam’s song from t-map ep. 46 because it’s a masterpiece and i wanted to try and write a masterpiece... that part didn’t work out very well but it’s okay! i hope you like it !! [p.s. i don’t know anything about where forget-me-not flowers grow... pretend they can grow near a lake. and i don't know when guitars were invented so bare with me here].

[howlingsaturn]

and in your arms, i will find shelter (1.9k)

i wrote a little hurt/comfort cause the tarlos hug wouldn’t leave my mind so here you go, i guess? spoiler warning for 2x02 of lone star even though no names are dropped. also minor trigger warning for panic attacks and death (always with a happy ending though). stay safe everybody. <3

as you pry the hurt

from my aching body

and the grief

from my shaking hands

i realise

there's nothing more powerful

nothing more healing

than love

When the realisation hits, the weight on his shoulders becomes unbearable. He's surprised it doesn't bury him right where he stands. He takes a look at the rest of his team, small and quiet in the usually so joyful firehouse, and he wonders how he's supposed to survive this, how Judd and Owen can still offer words of encouragement and touches of comfort after all the loss they've suffered. It's excruciating. The whole thing. Every second of it.

Every breath he takes sends a stabbing pain through his chest and his hands start shaking so badly, he can't even ball them into fists. He feels suffocated, like the walls are closing in around him and there's no way out. He feels the sudden, overwhelming urge to run, to get as far away from this place as possible but before he can move there's a hand on his arm and fingers squeezing so hard that he winces.

"TK," his father says alarmingly and his voice sounds so far away, so frighteningly inhuman, that it sends TK into a frenzy.

"I need to go," he breathes out between clenched teeth, his heartbeat echoing in his ears like a stampede. He needs to get out of here. Right now. TK pulls his arm free and turns around, ignoring the calls of his name that follow him out of the door and then he's running. He doesn't know where his legs take him, he can barely focus on the path in front of him through his blurred vision but it doesn't matter. None of it matters. They've lost one of their own today and TK doesn't know if he can ever fully recover from that.

His legs and chest start burning, begging him to slow down and catch a breath and so his frantic run comes to an abrupt halt. He's heaving now, seemingly unable to get enough air into his lungs and it doesn't help the feeling of panic that's been sitting in his gut all day. He fears he might pass out but he manages to get his breathing under control, enough so that he can keep walking. His mind is still too chaotic to rest and there's only one place he wants to be in right now, this one person who might be able to shoulder some of that weight he carries, and so with weak knees and his heart in his throat, TK makes his way to Carlo's condo.

It doesn't take long for the familiar building to appear in his line of sight, he's covered quite a few miles with that run, but it doesn't fill him with the relief he had hoped it would. He's overwhelmed all over again.

Is he overstepping? Should he even come here this late and pull Carlos out of his sleep? He's had a tough day too, shouldn't he let him rest? He can't pour all of this grief on him unnoticed, can he? Does Carlos even know what happened?

He doesn't know what to do, torn between wanting to seek comfort and knowing he will be a burden to Carlos. He longs for him though, his gentle eyes and warm smile and TK is too tired, too upset, to deny himself of Carlos' embrace. Eventually, TK pulls out the key Carlos handed him one night, for safekeeping, he had said with a smile, and TK knew in that moment, with a frightening clarity, that Carlos was his forever, his one.

He takes a few more minutes to collect himself before he opens the door, careful to be as silent as possible in case Carlos was already asleep, and when he lets the door fall shut behind him, he surprisingly finds those brown eyes he's been aching for already locked on him. Carlos is right there, sitting in the middle of the staircase in his pyjamas, looking at TK like he was expecting him all along, and TK feels his heart swell with gratitude. As he stares at him, the pain in his chest slowly eases and he suddenly doesn't know why he was so worried about coming here. He doesn't understand why he was so insecure about seeking out Carlos' presence and asking him to deal with a pain that wasn't his own. It's so clear now, in the way Carlos wordlessly opens his arms and holds out a hand, that he will gladly shoulder some of TK's pain.

TK's legs move on their own account and he all but stumbles into Carlos' waiting embrace, reaching for whatever warmth he can find and hoping it will fill the cold that has seeped into his heart. When Carlos' arms close around him, holding the broken pieces of himself together, TK feels safe.

They stay there for a long time, neither of them talking, and TK finds comfort in the silence Carlos offers. He focuses on the strong beat of Carlos' heart against his ear, matching his own to its rhythm, and when he feels like he won't fall apart with every breath he takes, he opens his eyes and raises his head to look at Carlos. Carlos reaches for him immediately, stroking his cheek with a sad but kind smile, and TK wonders, for the millionth time, how he got so lucky. He wants to tell Carlos how grateful he is and how much he adores him but the words are stuck in his throat. He only hopes Carlos can read some of it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Carlos finally breaks the silence, and the agony in his voice is evident. He doesn't know what else he can say, there's nothing that will make it okay. TK looks at him for a long time, eyes scanning over his boyfriend's face in a futile attempt to memorise all that he is. He's overcome with emotions, torn between gratitude and the fear of losing him.

He's lost someone today. He can lose someone else tomorrow. Time is not guaranteed, not for anyone, and he's hit with the sudden urge to create a bubble where time doesn't exist and lock the both of them in, if only for just a moment. Carlos swipes his thumb over TK's brow, seemingly having noticed his mind drifting, and TK falls back into his painful reality. He reaches for Carlos' shirt, holding onto him as if he's afraid he's going to disappear, and when he looks back into Carlos' eyes, he finds nothing but understanding.

I love you, he thinks suddenly, feverishly. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He doesn't say the words that are echoing in his head and his heart is yearning to hear, instead he pulls Carlos down and presses their lips together in a desperate kiss. Carlos reciprocates but pulls back quicker than TK would've liked, though he keeps him close, gently holding his face in the palms of his hands.

"I'm right here," he says softly, lovingly pressing a kiss to TK's forehead, and somehow that causes the dam to break. It catches TK so off guard that he can only hold onto Carlos as the waves of grief wash over him, drowning him in a series of uncontrolled and horrible sobs. He barely listens to the soothing words Carlos whispers into his ears, he's too focused on getting his breathing back under control and swallowing down the nausea that hits him. He feels the panic advance on him like a shark, pulling him back underwater and TK needs it all to stop, he can't do this anymore, his limbs are too tired to swim. He tries to tell Carlos as much but his throat produces nothing but broken hiccups. Carlos tries to soothe him, telling TK to breathe and assuring him that he's going to be okay, and after a few agonising minutes, the water finally calms.

There's nothing left of him then. TK feels wrung out and hollow and if it weren't for Carlos still holding him close, he probably would've passed out right where they sit. But Carlos is here, curling a strong arm around his back, and TK lets himself be cared for.

He doesn't remember much of what happened after his panic attack but he wakes up in a warm bed, Carlos wide awake at his side and a few strands of sunlight making their way through the blinds.

He blinks up at Carlos who's already looking at him, a worried frown between his eyes but he smiles upon noticing TK's gaze. He lets his fingers move through TK's hair in a soothing manner and something about that loving gesture makes TK feel less alienated. He's oh so thankful that Carlos is right here next to him.

"How are you feeling?" Carlos asks quietly, pulling TK out of his haze, and TK takes a few seconds to think about his question.

"I don't know. Tired, I guess. Like I've run a marathon. My head hurts. And I'm just…" he breaks off, lost in thought.

"Sad?" Carlos offers.

"Yeah," he agrees, "Sad."

"Me too," Carlos confesses and that's it. He too has lost a friend and co-worker, he too has suffered through a loss that isn't easily accepted, and all of the sudden TK feels guilty for not realising it sooner, for not being able to keep his emotions under control and checking in on Carlos. TK opens his mouth to apologise but Carlos raises a hand in warning, aware of TK's train of thought.

"Don't even think about it," he says but there's kindness behind it. "I'm okay. You were not. And that's alright, it's understandable. But you have nothing to apologise for, Ty." He says it with such conviction that TK doesn't even try to argue with him.

"I'm always here for you if you need me," Carlos adds, "It's what partners do, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he admits, "I just want you to know that I'm here for you too. If you ever need me."

Carlos smiles at him and adjusts his position on the bed so that they're on eye level, his gaze wandering to the fingers that instinctively reach back into TK's hair.

"I care about you," TK goes on and he waits for Carlos to look at him before he continues, "I care about you a lot, actually. More than I can comprehend sometimes. And after what happened yesterday I-- I realised I'm terrified of losing you."

The confession catches Carlos off guard and his hand in TK's hair stills abruptly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Carlos says, a little dumbfounded.

"I could. It's not unreasonable considering our lines of work and I'm --" he breaks off, leaving his self destructive thoughts unsaid but Carlos knows. He always knows.

"No, it's not unreasonable," he sighs, "but listen to me carefully, I'm in this for the long run. I won't leave, not ever, not on my own accord and believe me when I say that I will do anything to come back home to you each day, unharmed. I can promise you that much."

There's a fire in his eyes that TK has rarely seen and he finds that it isn't difficult to trust his promise at all because TK will do the exact same thing. He reaches out a hand then, tightly clutching Carlos' fingers in his own, and there they are again, these terrifying three words. They're itching beneath his skin and tickling in his throat, desperate to be said out loud, but TK decides to keep them for himself for now. There will be a time for them, there will be a time to love and to hope. Right now, he needs to let himself heal. There is, after all, no safer place to do so than in Carlos' warm embrace.