#and why are you huffy that she did? ;~; | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceruark · 7 days ago

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✦ ≡ that's that me espresso

[mydei, phainon, & sunday x fem! reader. modern au.] wc: 3.0k cw: slightly suggestive, nothing explicit. a/n: might do a part 2... lmk who you want to see a/n 2: this is my first time writing mydei and phainon i hope it's okay...

MYDEI - and i got this one boy, and he won't stop calling

Seele raises a brow at you as your phone vibrates for the umpteenth time. "Shouldn't you get that?"

You should; your recent hookup-turned-situationship has been awfully persistent about seeing you again, and you've been ignoring his texts all night. You shrug at her. "Probably."

Beside you, March snickers. "It's nothing to worry about. I don't think ignoring this boytoy will get him off your back."

Firefly makes a sound of surprise, and you roll your eyes as March eyes you. "Don't call him that, March."

The pink-haired girl scoffs. "Isn't that what he is?" After a moment of silence, her jaw drops. "No way. Did he get promoted to something more?" She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest as if to clutch at pearls that aren't there. "Do you have a b-word?"

"It's not like that," you respond, turning when you catch movement in your periphery. Bronya walks toward the four of you with a receipt in her hands, being ever the sweetheart and paying for your meals. You smile as you catch her eye. "Thanks, Bronya."

Bronya smiles back at you before moving to stand beside her girlfriend (who is still staring at you skeptically). Firefly trails after the pair as they leave through the restaurant's double glass doors, and you lag behind all of them, weighed down by a huffy March who clings to your arm and demands answers.

Your fond irritation drops off and gives way to shock when you spot a familiar motorcycle parked across the lot. You stop in your tracks, watching dumbfoundedly as the owner of the bike takes off his helmet and shakes his head side-to-side, turning his long dirty blonde locks into a mess. He hangs his helmet on the edge of one of the handles and turns toward the restaurant doors, his amber eyes scanning your friends before locking onto you.

When his eyes meet yours, he raises an eyebrow, as if chastising you for ignoring his messages. He crosses his arms across his chest and takes slow, leisure strides across the lot toward you.

March pulls at your arm sharply. You side-eye her just enough to see her jaw hanging open as she eyes the man approaching you. "That's your man?"

"I told you it's not like that," you hiss at her before freeing yourself from her grasp. You turn just in time to see him stop in front of you. He tilts his head to the side expectantly, and you clear your throat.

"I don't remember telling you where I would be tonight, Mydei," you state matter-of-factly.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Phainon."

Damn it. You and your childhood friend have a tendency to get involved in each other's love lives where you really had no business being. You would have to get him back for this.

You smile a little too sweetly at him. "And you decided to show up?"

His gaze sweeps over you before sliding over to your friends standing behind you. "I wanted to see who you were with."

You force a laugh, a poor attempt to distract yourself from the way you flush red. "Why? You jealous?"

Mydei meets your eyes, and your heart skips a beat at the intensity of his gaze. He steps closer to you, lifting one hand in the air and letting it linger mere centimeters away from your hip. "Let me take you home."

You're caught off guard. Sure, you knew what you had with Mydei had turned into something a little more than just hooking up, but you weren't expecting this— had he really shown up out of jealousy? Did he think you were ignoring him because you were seeing someone else?

You look at Seele, whose apartment you were planning to head back to after dinner. "Do you still want me to—"

"Nope. Have fun," Seele interrupts, trying to leave the situation as fast as possible. She gives you a curt wave before turning her back to you, heading toward her car. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Bronya and Firefly trail after Seele awkwardly. March flashes you two thumbs-up and an ear-splitting smile before bouncing off after them.

You turn back to Mydei and sigh playfully. "You scared off my friends."

He hums in response, moving to stand beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist. "They've had your attention all day. They'll be fine."

"Someone sounds a little irritated." You lean your head against his arm and peer up at him, grinning. "Surely me not answering you didn't bother you that much?"

Mydei frowns down at you, before taking your chin between his hands. He leans down and presses his lips to yours in a surprisingly tender kiss, one so unlike the countless others you two have exchanged. Your heart leaps again at the unexpected affection.

You're a bit breathless when he breaks the kiss. "Don't play coy with me."

He looks away from you and across the lot, releasing his hold on your waist to take your hand in his. Dazed, you allow him to guide you toward his motorcycle.

Maybe it is like that.

And there's no doubt that your phone's newfound incessant buzzing is March rubbing it in your face.

PHAINON - oh he looks so cute wrapped ‘round my finger

You’re holed up in the library with Aglaea, putting together a slide deck for a group project due later that week, when you feel something firm press against your back. As you look up, an arm snakes itself around you to place your favorite drink from the boba shop near campus in front of you.

Smiling radiantly, you tilt your head back to meet Phainon’s adoring gaze.

“Hey, Phai,” you greet in the sweet, airy voice you reserve just for him.

He grins down at you, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair. “Hey, beautiful,” he says back.

Phainon isn’t the type of guy you’d usually go after like this; sure, he’s a bit of a jock, but unlike the other athletes you’ve been with, he’s actually incredibly sweet, charming, and attentive. He’s walking boyfriend material, and your roommate Jelena had warned you that you better not break this one’s heart or else you’d probably have a bounty placed on your head, and hers, by extension.

Luckily for both of you, you have no intentions of leading Phainon on or dumping him— not that you want him knowing that just yet. You do intend to make things official soon; your little situationship with him has been going on much longer than they usually do for you, by virtue of the fact that he’s actually everything you’re looking for in a guy that you would want to get serious with. The cold and distant facade you usually take up with your flings was quickly melted away by, well, everything about him, from his affection and eagerness to please to his consideration and puppy-like love. You can’t deny that Phainon had quickly managed to worm his way into your heart, but for the sake of your pride, you decide to drag things out just a little longer.

Besides, with the way he continues to shower you with gifts and act like a boyfriend even without the title, he clearly has no plans of leaving you, either.

You’re not a stranger to attention, but you do find that it’s far more meaningful and preferable when it’s Phainon’s eyes on you.

You take a sip of the drink, and hum in approval. “My favorite,” you say, pleased. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” Cheekily, he tilts his head to the side as he asks, “Do I get a reward?”

You hum in consideration, before leaning up to give him a peck on the lips— brief, as to not make Aglaea uncomfortable.

He pouts, adorably, when you pull away. “Is that it?”

“Depends,” you say with a shrug. “Will I see you tonight?”

Phainon grins, and it’s like staring into the sun itself. There seems to be a satisfaction about him, but his cheery demeanor distracts you enough that you don’t linger on it too much. “Sure you will,” he answers easily, “I can take you out after practice. Seven okay?”

“Seven’s perfect.” You lean your head against his chest, winking. “See you then.”

He winks back at you and gently presses his thumb to your lips before leaving. With his back now turned to you, you allow your carefully crafted smile to break out into a stupid grin as a feeling of giddiness washes over you. You’re biting back a few giggles when a voice cuts through your daze.

“You probably think you’ve got him caught, don’t you? Right where you want him.”

Aglaea’s words bring you down from your fleeting feeling of lightness and back to reality as something lurches in your stomach. You do have Phainon exactly where you want him— it’s obvious, what with all the gifts and the way he follows you around like a lost puppy.

You look at her with a raised brow. “What?”

Your confusion must show on your face because Aglaea gives a soft laugh and shakes her head. “Phainon is one of the most intelligent and talented people on this campus. You should give him more credit and maybe reassess the nature of your relationship and where exactly you stand with him.”

She gathers her things and packs them into her bag, bidding you farewell with a promise to make sure that Cifera does her part of the project, but you’re too caught up on the implications of her previous statement to pay it any mind.

You’re obviously the one pulling the strings and calling the shots here… right?

SUNDAY - one touch and i brand-newed it for ya

"So are we gonna talk about it?"

Your fingers stab furiously at your keyboard, each click of the keys louder than necessary. "There's nothing to talk about," you mutter, pointedly ignoring the way your coworkers lean in conspiratorially. You don't know why they're doing it. There's nothing to be secretive about.

Stelle leans back in her chair, pointing a stick of Pocky in your direction. "You've either gotta be dumb or dense as hell to not see the way he's wrapped around your finger."

"Dumb, dense..." Caelus smirks and sing-songs, "or in denial."

"I don't know why you'd deny it." March puts her head in her hands and pouts. "I mean, if you get with him, you can totally quit your day job and have it made for you! You could be living every girl's dream!"

"That only happens in dramas, March." You wait a moment, before adding, "Besides, he's not into me."

"Yes he is!" March exclaims, exasperated. "I don't know what you did, but he's been, like, obsessed with you since the end of year formal!"

You try (and fail) to stifle a blush as the memory of that night comes rushing back to you. As one of the biggest companies in the nation, Astral Express's finest were invited to attend Halovian Corporation's annual end of year formal. It was supposed to go off without a hitch. You planned to stick by Dan Heng the whole night, the two of you taking on a vow of sobriety as to not make asses of yourselves or the company in front of The Family.

But then Dan Heng got whisked away by some old colleagues, and March got her hands on you and steered you toward the open bar, and then—

And then the next thing you knew, you were perched on a windowsill in one of the long hallways leading into the ballroom. Very tipsy and borderline drunk, you chatted with whoever crossed your path, your giddiness making you rather pleasant company.

You'd been humming a tune to yourself when two figures staggered into the hallway. The shorter of the two huffed and moved toward the wall, untangling the other's limbs from his shoulders as he left him propped up against the wall.

The flashy blonde man looked around, before locking eyes with you. He gave you a charming smile before asking, "Do you mind keeping an eye on my colleague here for a moment?"

You shrugged at him. "Sure. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks. You're the best, friend." He turned to his companion, making very direct eye contact with him and sternly saying, "I'm gonna go find your sister. Stay here. Don't leave this hallway."

The other mumbled something incoherent, drawing your attention to him. You turned your head, and your eyes bulged out of your head when your gaze fell on none other than Halovian's esteemed CEO.

You sputtered nonsense for a moment before clapping a hand over your mouth, remembering yourself— and your present company.

The blonde's laughter echoed down the hallway as he walked away.

The first few minutes had been awkward to say the least. Seeing the Sunday Oak so disheveled and drunken was enough to shock you back into near-sobriety, and so you sat there, openly gawking at him as his gaze wandered the hallway, studying the intricate wallpaper and embellishments.

Eventually, his gaze landed on you. You stiffened as he gave you a once-over, his head tilting to the side as he considered you.

“I should apologize for my present state,” he said, impressively not slurring his words. “This is no way to behave in front of a lady as pretty as you.”

You felt yourself flush bright red at his words. You laughed loudly to cover up your nerves. “Oh, it’s fine, I’m also far too drunk to be in front of someone of your caliber.”

He frowned a bit at your words. To your disbelief, he pouted, and then threw his head to the side, balancing it against the wall. “My caliber?” He huffs, almost sounding sassy.

“Well, you are the CEO of the largest company in Penacony,” you responded.

“Yes,” he spat dryly, “it seems that is all I am to people.”

You clammed up at his sudden shift in demeanor. You’d clearly struck a nerve, and it’d probably be best to just keep to yourself until the blonde man returned.

That’s what you’d intended to do— until you noticed Sunday struggling to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Ah—” You hurried to your feet and rushed to his side to brace his side just as he was about to topple over. “Come here, sit, sit.” You gently eased him down onto the ledge you’d just been sitting on then took a seat beside him.

He hiccuped, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find it endearing. “Thank you, he murmured. You noticed him eyeing where your hand was still holding his bicep.

Flustering again, you released his arm and folded your hands in your lap. “So, um, Mr. Oak—”

“Sunday,” he interrupted. “Sunday is fine.”

“Right! Sunday,” you amended. “How has your night been so far?”

Whether it was because of your friendliness and warmth, or because his inhibitions were already so low, or because you were both drunk, you couldn’t say, but for whatever reason Sunday cracked under the question and said, “Positively awful. I had to break things off with my… partner.”

You blinked rapidly. “Oh.” You blinked some more. “Oh, I wasn’t aware you, uh, had one.”

“It was a mere month of my time wasted,” he muttered. “They were only after my position and inheritance.”

“Oh,” you said, dejected this time. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I’m sure you’d be delightful to date. You seem sweet.” When he stared at you in question, you elaborated, “I work with Stelle and Dan Heng, they’ve both talked about how much you dote on your sister. I’m sure someone so caring would make an amazing partner. It’s unfortunate that people only see you for your title and money. Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Sunday looked at you again at those words, that same considering gleam in his eyes.

Then, suddenly, he’d asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Your back went ramrod straight. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I—” Now he was blinking fast, looking anywhere but your face. “I’m not sure what came over me. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s not offensive,” you blurted out, eager to smooth things over. “I meant it, anybody would be lucky to have you, even me!”

Well. A little too eager, it seemed. Sunday blushed even more at that, but leaned closer to you. He stopped a bit away from your face, as if waiting for permission.

In a normal state of mind, you probably wouldn’t deny Sunday Oak a kiss. In a drunken state, you definitely weren’t denying Sunday Oak a kiss.

You gently pressed your lips to his, laying a hand on top of his as you met him halfway.

And that’s how Robin Oak found you drunkenly making out with her brother in a hallway at the winter formal, her gasp snapping you both out of whatever had possessed you two.

You slump into your chair, muttering, “Nothing happened at the formal, March.”

“Bullshit,” Stelle declares, jutting a finger in your direction. “Robin won’t tell me what happened, but she gets all giggly when I bring you up.”

Before you can fire off another denial, Welt pokes his head into the meeting room you’ve all been monopolizing, rapping his knuckles against the door to announce his arrival.

“I have something for you,” he says as he walks over to you. You watch as he sets down a neatly packaged lunch from the restaurant Astral employees frequent a lot. To your horror, there’s a note attached to it, scrawled in immaculate handwriting that you’ve only ever seen at the end of important company documents.

Stelle lunges forward and snatches it off the container before you can stop her. You throw yourself across the table at her, but she leans back too fast, already skimming the note. She bursts into shocked laughter before turning the note back to you, yelling, “Sunday wants to know if he can see you again!”

Both of Welt’s eyebrows shoot up at that. Dan Heng sighs heavily as March and Caelus both start yelling at you, the latter in a mocking manner while the former badgers you for answers with more vigor than ever before.

Clearly, this was not a drunken decision you’d be able to just sleep off.

#sunday's is longer than everyone else's i guess some things truly never change #phainon...#he is such a creature to me #you think youve got him wrapped around your finger #no baby #it's the other way around #but don't worry you're in good hands i promise <3 #idk mydei's was really self-indulgent im not gonna lie to you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei x reader #phainon x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #x reader #ceru.writes

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angelbarelywritesslashers · 1 year ago

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♡ tommy gets jealous | oneshot

♡ fandom; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003/2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; mentions of kidnapping and violence, don’t date people who want to slash you irl not a good foundation for a relationship

♡notes; I put on my big boy panties and wrote something other than a bulleted list!!

I just love a good “i trust you but i sure as fuck don’t trust anybody else” type jealously trope. Also some Tommy doing ASL!! We love a (selectively?) mute king.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

You were an oblivious person. Most of the time, anyways. You’d been totally shocked when Luda Mae didn’t let you leave the night you arrived at the Hewitt house, totally shocked when Charlie told you Thomas was obsessed with you, and more surprised still that Charlie had been right.

You weren’t stupid— you put two and two together that these folks were cannibals as soon as you saw the basement. You nearly talked Monty into letting you go, and you slipped your restraints a couple times before you were settled in. You’d done well in school and still could read a book in one sitting.

Maybe… socially inept was a better word, harsh as it sounded. It was only people that you had a such a hard time with. You trusted them, but you could almost never wrap your head around what they were thinking.

Like the customers that stayed too long . It happened a lot. Bikers and tourists and all sorts of folks would stop in when you were working in the convenience store, and usually more than once a day a man would stay leaned on the counter, chatting away until his buddies were about to leave him. Sometimes they’d be alone, and Luda would give you a break early and they’d go off looking all huffy.

It very rarely occurred to you that the men were trying to flirt. You didn’t think of yourself as someone that happened to- and treated all customers the same. Why would they think you wanted to bang em when all you did was smile? Being nice was part of your job.

Luda Mae payed no mind to the men or your conversations. If there’d been any cause for concern, she’d be able to quash it very easily. But she found it endearing, especially your confusion and apathy when they did get balls enough to be blunt . In her mind you were so devoted to Thomas that other men were just nuisances.

That’s why no one had mentioned it to Thomas. He rarely came up to help now that you were there to help Luda Mae, but today there was extra stock, and her joints had been aching from the weather. You were on register, Luda Mae relaxed in a rocker on the porch, and Tommy stalked the aisles and put out trinkets and canned food and all the other junk you sold. You were trying not to go distract him and stood leaned over the counter, doodling on some scrap paper between customers.

“Well hello darlin,” A man drawled, hands on his belt buckle. He was trying too hard to be a real Texan, but he wasn’t from up North like you. “You got any cigarettes back there?”

“Sure do! Let’s see… got Camels, Lucky Strike- I really like these ones, the Salems, they’re menthol-“

“You look too sweet to smoke. I’ll take the Camels,”

“Well, only do it on special occasions,” you shrugged, not paying much attention as Thomas stalked towards the front “Anything else?”

“Well. That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re free or not tonight.”

You blinked, then furrowed your brow “You tryna ask me out?”

“Well I- oho shit!” The man laughed uncomfortably as he noticed Thomas right behind him “You scared me there big guy-“

He huffed and slunk behind the counter as the man nervously tried to get back on topic “Anyways… ahem…so about that date-?”

You huffed and out a hand on your hip “Well, depends?”

He perked up a bit “On what?”

“If you can beat my boyfriend in a fight.” On cue Thomas wrapped his arms around you from behind, growling as he hooked his chin on your head.

The man quickly turned tail and mumbled something about being out of practice, forgetting the cigarettes completely. You could feel Tommy relax and turned to let him pick you up and set you on the counter. Even then you weren’t eye to eye with the giant of a man…but it was closer, and you liked feeling tiny anyway.

“…hi baby.” You cooed and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. He huffed and nuzzled you, as he often did as a form of reassurance. You giggled and pecked his mask “Annoying, right?”

He nodded and scowled, keeping his grip tight on your hips

“…what’s wrong?”

He hesitated but pulled back to sign ‘Mine. All mine. Right?’

You giggled again “Of course! All yours- always.”

He smiled softly- the sort of expression only you could coax out of him ‘Always’

#slashers #thomas hewitt #slashers x reader #slashers x you #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #luda mae hewitt #thomas brown hewitt

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caitified · 3 months ago

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bella requestttt!!!

• a fan asks caitlin to hold their baby for a picture, and bella sees, gets jealous obviously and refuses to talk to caitlin because mommy likes the little baby more/ gave the baby more attention then her.

• bella and caitlin go shopping and somehow bella wonders off and terrified caitlin. caitlin finds her like five minutes later but that was the scariest five minutes of her life.

• bella cons caitlin into a late night ice cream trip, and tried to convince caitlin by saying “it’s okay just don’t tell mommy”

• bella go to practice with caitlin, and makes lots of new friends with caitlin’s teammates

• caitlin asks bella why she’s so upset/crying, she says she misses auntie kate, auntie jada, and auntie gabbie (core four supremacy fr) because she saw a picture of them together and it made her want to see them, maybe they have a four way call or caitlin takes her to see them or soemthing idk

• bella gets sick at one of caitlin’s games, and caitlin feels soooo awful that she couldn’t help her bella bear right then, so she buys her lots of toys and babies her when she gets home

BELLA BLURBS PART ONE

CAITLIN CLARK X FAMILY READER

notes: i did these as blurbs bc i was feeling lazy, but these are so so cute pls keep them coming

warnings: none!

jealous bella

caitlin had held a lot of babies in her life—nieces, nephews, children of old teammates—but never had she considered the consequences of holding a fan’s baby in front of her own.

it happened at an event after one of her games, where fans had lined up for pictures and autographs. caitlin was in a great mood, happily chatting when a woman stepped forward with an adorable baby in her arms.

“can you hold her for a picture?” the woman asked excitedly.

caitlin, always happy to please, grinned and carefully took the baby in her arms. “of course!” she cooed, adjusting the little girl so she faced the camera. “oh my god, you’re so cute!”

the baby giggled, grabbing onto caitlin’s jersey as the fan snapped pictures. everyone around them cooed, adoring the sweet moment.

but not everyone was happy.

sitting in her stroller a few feet away, your baby, bella, was watching with the deepest frown, tiny arms crossed over her chest. her normally bright eyes had darkened in offense, and her lower lip was pushed out in a pout so dramatic that it was almost comical.

except to her, it wasn’t funny at all.

when you returned with snacks, you immediately spotted your daughter’s intense little glare. “bella?” you crouched down, brushing her curls from her face. “what’s wrong, baby?”

she let out a sharp, huffy breath and turned her head away from you.

your eyebrows shot up in amusement. oh, she’s mad mad.

glancing up, you saw caitlin handing the baby back to her mother, still oblivious. when she turned and finally met bella’s stormy little gaze, her expression dropped.

“bella?” she called, stepping forward.

bella ignored her.

caitlin’s eyes widened in panic. she knelt in front of her, reaching out. “baby, what’s wrong?”

bella sniffled, finally speaking in a tiny, betrayed voice. “mommy like the baby more.”

you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing, but caitlin’s face was a picture of pure horror.

“what?!” she exclaimed. “no! baby, I don’t like the baby more! i was just holding them for a picture!”

bella still wouldn’t look at her.

caitlin turned to you in desperation. “babe, help me!”

you smirked. “oh, no. you got yourself into this mess. good luck.”

—

lost bella

caitlin had one job.

watch bella while you grabbed something from another aisle. simple.

except it wasn’t, because when she turned back from looking at the shelves—bella was gone.

her heart stopped.

“bella?” she called, spinning around so fast she almost lost her balance. when she didn’t hear a response, panic set in fast.

“bella!”

people around her turned to look, sensing her urgency. her stomach dropped.

when you returned, your heart immediately sped up at the wild look in her eyes.

“where’s bella?” you asked sharply.

caitlin ran a hand through her hair, looking wrecked. “i don’t—i turned for one second—”

you didn’t wait for her to finish, already moving.

the next five minutes were the longest of caitlin’s life. she tore through the aisles, calling bella’s name, adrenaline pounding through her veins.

then, finally—

she spotted a tiny figure near a display of stuffed animals.

her size.

caitlin sprinted, her chest tightening as she reached bella, who was standing completely unbothered, holding a teddy bear half her size.

she scooped her up instantly, squeezing her tight. “bella, baby, you can’t wander off like that! we were so scared!”

bella blinked up at her. “i lookin’.” she held up the bear. “him my size.”

caitlin let out a breathy, shaky laugh, kissing the top of her head. “yeah, baby. we’re buying him.”

you finally caught up, sighing in relief before frowning. “so she gets a toy for running off?”

caitlin didn’t even hesitate. “yes.”

—

late-night ice cream heist

caitlin was half-asleep when she felt a tiny hand patting her arm.

“mama.”

groaning, she cracked her eyes open. “what, baby?”

bella, looking serious as ever, whispered, “ice cream.”

caitlin squinted at the clock. “baby, it’s bedtime—”

bella leaned in further, her little voice conspiratorial. “it’s okay. just don’t tell mommy.”

you, who had woken up at the whispering, snorted. “excuse me?”

bella froze.

caitlin, still half-asleep, smirked. “well, now we have to take her.”

—

missing the aunties

when caitlin walked into the living room, she found bella curled up, looking at your phone, tiny sniffles filling the space.

her heart immediately clenched.

“baby, what’s wrong?”

bella turned, eyes already watery. “miss auntie kate. auntie jada. auntie gabbie.”

caitlin melted. she crouched down beside her, rubbing her back. “aw, baby.” she glanced at the phone screen. “did you see a picture of them?”

bella nodded, her lower lip wobbling.

caitlin turned to you, who had just walked in, and sighed. “okay, i’m calling them.”

a few minutes later, a very enthusiastic four-way facetime was happening, with the three women collectively gasping the second they saw bella’s pouty face.

“BELLA!”

she sniffled. “miss you.”

they melted.

“we miss you too, baby!”

soon, she was all giggles again, chatting happily while you and caitlin exchanged looks.

crisis averted.

—

sick at the game

caitlin had been so locked in on the game that she didn’t notice at first. but when she glanced at the stands and saw you rocking a clearly sick, sleepy bella, her heart dropped.

after the game, she sprinted over.

“what happened?” she cupped bella’s warm cheeks. “baby, you okay?”

“fever,” you murmured. “she wanted to see you play so bad.”

caitlin melted, kissing her forehead. “oh, my poor baby.”

when you got home, she went full mom mode.

she wrapped bella up in blankets, hand-fed her soup, and caved way too easily when bella whimpered, “mama, hold me.”

and, of course, she ordered an unnecessary amount of toys, because how else was she supposed to make her baby feel better?

you just shook your head fondly. “you’re such a sucker.”

caitlin kissed bella’s forehead. “yeah. and?”

#wnba x reader #caitlin clark x reader #wnba imagine #wbb x reader #wbb imagine #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #indiana fever #caitlin’s family

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penvisions · 9 months ago

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there's a place and time {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Younger / No-outbreak! Joel Miller x Neighbor! Reader

Summary: Moving back to your parents house wasn't part of the plan, neither was being a thorn in your neighbor's side. but you roll with the punches, and hey, he's kinda cute when he gets huffy.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: age gap (joel is mid 30's / reader is mid 20's), angst, biting words, argumentative language, joel is a lil meanie but so is reader, grief, off-screen loss, depictions of depression, comfort, mushy stuff

A/N: this literally came out of nowhere, a random thought on the way to work and then a manic two hours of writing once i got home. this turned out a little different than first imagined, but i hope it reads well!

navigation || joel miller masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Why don’t you date?”

“Excuse me?” The form crouched in between kitchen counters looked up at you with a raised brow, surely mishearing the question.

“Dating, I know you know what that is.” You repeat yourself as you push your arms back to brace on the counter and hop up on it. The granite of it is cold on your bare thighs, the shorts you were wearing thrown on haphazardly when a panic stricken pair of teenagers had begun to bang on your door in the early afternoon. The words of ‘fire’ and “help!” spurring you into action where you had been napping on your couch. Now though, the oven was off, the blackened frozen pizza still on the rack and covered in foam from the fire extinguisher neither of them had known how to use. Their father had sent them upstairs, thanking you for helping them out and getting it taken care of. “Or the concept at least, yeah?”

“Don’t mean it’s any of your business, little lady.” Joel’s voice leaves no room for further conversation as he realizes you’re more serious than need be. Little quips between you two common, the unspoken understanding of not discussing the reason for your presence in the neighborhood mutual.

“I dunno, I remember you being real keen on the idea of me babysitting.” You take a sip of your soda, swiped from the fridge after everything had calmed down. “Would do you a favor now, should you need the night off for some…fun.”

“Dating and fun are two different things.”

“Dating can be fun, if you do it with the right person.”

“Yeah, and what do you know about that? Saw you move in all by your lonesome. No big, burly man helping you with your boxes.”

The fizzy drink sours on your tongue and you toss him a scowl as he stands. He’s a few feet away but you can feel the warmth of him as he stands at his full height. He’s reaching to close the oven door, the creak of metal on metal loud in the beat of silence.

“You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you on your perky ass, Miller.”

“Language, you’re in my house.” His brow furrows and he pins you with a stern look. Something you’d seen him give to his brother, his girls, the neighbor across the way when she wouldn’t take the hint that he didn’t want her dog shit in his yard.

“Old men like yourself deserve to have some fun every once in a while. They deserve happiness too.”

“Even if I did, it’s no concern of yours. Your daddy didn’t help pay for two degrees for you to end up babysitting for grocery money.”

The rebuttal on the tip of your tongue suddenly dissolved as you felt a shiver run down your spine. He’s right, you know he’s right. But you just…you couldn’t even open the envelope with the certificates let alone add them to your resume and begin the arduous task of job hunting.

“Fuck you, I was only offering to help out a neighbor.” The words are rough, rounded out with the weight of too many emotions. You shove off from the counter, abandoning your half-finished drink. A delicacy you enjoyed only over at his house, too expensive for you to indulge in as bills you never anticipated paying became your responsibility.

“I didn’t mean-“ He had the self-awareness to realize he said the wrong thing. His hands coming up from his waist to reach out for you, but you don’t look over your shoulder as you make your way through the kitchen.

“Don’t come to me if you do need someone to look after the girls. I wouldn’t take your money anyway.”

“C’mon now,” His full lips shape around your name, but you’re already out the door. Resisting the urge to let it slam shut behind you, your anger still so sharp and hot. But the girls didn’t deserve to feel it, even the echo of it in the slamming of a door. Despite being a dick, Joel was a good father to them. He’d made his home a nurturing and loving environment. You didn’t want to taint it with your stained hands.

As he stands there in his empty kitchen, the smell of burnt dough, smoke, and ammonia dizzies him as he watches you cross over his yard to yours next door. The blank expression on your face and the faint smears of dried pant all over your legs makes him regret his fast words. He had been going for teasing, but of course they had come out harsh and wounding.

You were someone he didn’t know how to interact with. So sweet and polite with the girls, with the neighbors. But you were a firecracker with him. Teasing, whipping words that rung around his head, and he recalled far too often. The little smirk that pulled at your lips as you said them, waited for his response or sputtering lack of one. His own pulled from him, making him feel like a teenager again, like a young man you hadn’t been suddenly left alone to raise a child. Like his old self, someone who stood a chance with you as you gave him your attention time and time again.

He had only ever met you through the words of your parents, the people who had once occupied the house beside his own. He had moved in with two six-year-olds just as you had shoved off to college upstate. The running joke was that it was perfect timing for him to have missed out on the perfect babysitter.

Graduation is supposed to be a time of celebration and proud smiles, at least that’s what everyone else got. The day you had counted down on the calendar and crossed off the passing ones as it neared was now a blur of too bright colors and phone calls with people telling you things you didn’t want to think about, let alone hear as your new reality.

A car accident, on the drive upstate. Both parents, reckless driver.

A house that had been recently paid off, left to you. Your name already on the deed, something you didn’t want to think about too hard. Close, you had been close with each of them and them as a unit. A small family but understanding. It was yours, the backdrop to your life and suddenly the two people were only memories.

The move had been quick, the apartment you shared with fellow graduate students mostly books and a beautiful desk. The bedframe taken apart to go while the shelves had been left for the next occupants.

You hadn’t shared the news with any of your roommates or friends, not wanting to taint their own celebrations and happy memories of the day you all worked so hard for. Addresses were exchanged, well wishes were meant, but of course it all faded as time had gone on. Their news of job offers and exciting dates had been good to hear, but with no good things to respond with of your own, it was hard to feel the same way about them as you once had. They reached out, worry coloring their words, which made you feel even worse.

It haunts you for days, as you seal yourself into the home that is now yours alone. The paint slathered on canvas dries and the brushes coated in it turn into hardened caps over the bristles. You’re allowing things to sit for too long, the water evaporating in the cups you use to rinse between swatches of color. The open paint tubes oxidizing and becoming unsalvageable. But you have no control.

The bed becomes damp with nights of sweat, from your tossing and turning body as the heat rises and the air conditioning that needs to be repaired is just another phone call. You don’t even think you know where your phone is. It can’t bear bad news if you don’t answer it. It can’t carry the end of your world if you don’t let it.

There’s a sharp knock on the door at some point, in the midst of the haze of days after storming out of Joel’s kitchen. You hadn’t been able to dissect the sounds of life going on outside your closed windows.

But it had, to the point where now someone was calling on you to make you return to it.

Shrugging on a robe, you hold it tight to your aching body as you push up from the bed. Bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor as the heat fills the home.

“What?” You can’t help but bark as you swing the door open, only to find a concerned Joel on the porch, with your phone in his hand.

“I found this in the kitchen, must’ve fallen off the counter in the madness of getting the fire out and callin’ me.” He holds it out to you, but you don’t move to take it. “Figured you needed it, there’s a lot of missed calls and voicemails. I may have left a few too, to check on ya. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Been here, painting.”

“Okay, that’s…that’s good. Got everything you need? Food, water, someone comin’ to fix the A/C?” It’s an apology in the only way Joel Miller is capable of giving, the need to make sure someone is getting what they need, that they’re taken care of. He’s a good provider, to his girls, to his brother, to the neighborhood when he’s not beat down from long days in the sun with concrete and paint dried to his skin, with wood shavings and stain splotched on his jeans.

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m my own person.”

Your name leaves his mouth on a sigh.

“I know that, but your parents…I know that kinda thing is-“

“I’m fine. Thanks for returning this.” You snatch it from his hand and go to close to door, not willing to hear what he has to say on the loss of your parents. For his credit, he let’s you. Knowing that you’re going through the motions, through the event in your own way. It doesn’t stop him from speaking loud enough for you to hear him through the door.

“The girls will be by with dinner later! Try to be nice to them, they ain’t me!”

The meal delivered by two smiling teenagers does lift your spirits a bit, even if all you do is shower and do a few loads of laundry. It’s a long process, the climb out of the hole that you had found yourself in.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. You’re back to quipping across the yard with the man. His daughters delighting in the comraderies that underlies it all. It’s the height of summer now, the girls spending time with you to try their hand at painting. Sarah is better with bursts of color that compliment each other, vaguely floral. While Ellie is better with a muted palette imposed between detailed line art.

They always thank you for the time and attention, offering to help you clean up or tidy the house in exchange for watching over them when you notice Joel’s truck is still gone from their own driveway until late. They aren’t helpless, but you know what loneliness feels like and you don’t want them to become familiar with it.

You finally open the envelope containing your degrees, the last letters from your friends and pen down long responses. The stamps cute as you drop them off at the post office, the ornate certificates framed and hung above the desk in your father’s old office alongside his own.

Joel joins them most days, mid meal if he can make it in time. Food finding it’s way into your kitchen, something you’re sure is the combined effort of two pairs of small hands and one pair of big hands. The least you could do is turn it into something for everyone involved to enjoy.

But just as things seem to progress, they fall back apart. It wasn’t over a throwaway comment this time, though, but a piece of mail delivered from a local gallery asking after your willingness to partake in an exhibit. That they expressed their deepest condolences in this trying time.

The paint dries up again, another set of brushes left to ruin. The door goes unanswered, as does the phone you can hardly stand to look at. The lights don’t glow in the windows once the sun sets, no music is heard from behind thin screens, nor the sound of you humming along to it.

The house becomes a burden once again, shielding you from the world you as you feel the loss of your parents all over again.

You don’t hear the door open from where you’re sprawled on the floor of the bathroom, the shower is running but you didn’t make it under the spray. You’re fully clothed, having reached down underneath the vanity for a bottle of shampoo when your fingers had brushed over something else. A bottle of your mother’s favorite perfume. The one that lingered in every room she occupied, on every piece of clothing she adorned. It was her, the perfect encapsulation of who she was.

And it was staring at you inconspicuously from the shelf. The mere sight of it tearing the wound open once again and making it hard to breath.

That’s where Joel finds you. In tears over something as trivial as a tiny glass bottle. But he doesn’t bat an eye, he’s taking in the scene and shutting off the shower in a few easy steps.

“Hey now, come ‘ere, darlin’,” He’s crouching down beside you, hands reaching for your shaking body.

He’s so gentle, so soft as he pulls you up from the tiled floor and into his chest. Leaning back against rhe now closed vanity to support your weight. One hand on the back of your head, holding it to his chest, pleading with you to match his breathing so you don’t hurt yourself.

“Datin’ is hard, you’re right.” His words make you pause, confusion crowding out the wetness lingering in your eyes. The words from a conversation long ago pulling you out of your breakdown, the casual way he continues it.

“It is.” You insist, voice small and muffled as you refuse to pull your face from where it’s pressed against the warmth of his chest.

“Maybe…. maybe you’d be kind enough to try it with this grumpy old man. I’d sure like to give it a shot with someone like you.”

“I ain’t nothin’ special. Just the neighbor girl your dead friends talked about too much.”

“They loved you, darlin’. With everythin’ they had.” He holds tight to the hand you move underneath one of his. Seeking him out, to feel his skin on your own. “You are special, those paintings they showed me, you got a gift, honey.”

“Gifts don’t mean nothin’ when you got no one to share them with.”

“You share ‘em with the girls, they loved coming over here to spend time with you. Share ‘em with me, if you want. The girls and I are in your corner, we got you.”

“You don’t…you don’t want to date me. Every boy-“

“Boys don’t know how to date, that’s only something us old men know how to do. Will you let me show you, how it feels to be taken care of and looked after? To feel appreciated and like you aren’t a hindrance on nightly plans to play fuckin’ video games?”

“I like video games,” You sniffle, voice gaining strength as the conversation goes on. He’s soothing you, even as he just sits on the floor with you in his lap, his arms around you and your body pressed up against him. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in months. And it’s just Joel being Joel, it’s just you being you.

“Show me, if you want. Let me get to know you, let me show you what it’s like to be loved, not just sought after for a night of fun.”

“I don’t date old men.”

“No?”

“You’re not that much older than me, so I wouldn’t really call you old.”

“Cause then you’d have to admit you’re old too, huh?” He reads the meaning behind the change of thought, as if he was in your head right there alongside you.

“Yeah, we ain’t old. Life just beat us down, but damn if it didn’t touch your perky ass.” You reach a hand down from where it’s cradled between your chests, to pinch at where his backside it firmly planted on the floor. He jolts a bit, not expecting the action. But his rumbling laugh lightens the air around you both even more so.

“You goin’ soft on me, a compliment like that is makin’ my heart pick up. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah, cause you’re a big ole sap.” You can’t help the breathy chuckle that escapes past your lips, the twitch of a smile trying to break out. You can, indeed, feel the way his heart is thudding in his chest. The truth of your words and his making you feel some of the weight lift from your own.

“You ain’t gotta clue how sappy I could me, lemme show you, huh?”

“Only if you promise it’ll make me roll my eyes and groan.” You lean back enough to see his face, the roll of your eyes up to take in his hopeful expression allowing you to know how much he means it. Your own heartbeat picks up and you swear he can feel it too, if the crook of his lips underneath his mustache is any indication.

“Only if you promise to have a smile on your face while you do it.” He leans in, nose brushing against yours. The action so soft, so welcome after the isolation you had subjected yourself to.

“Deal.” You breathe out against his lips.

“It’s a deal then.” He presses them to yours, and damn it all, but it does bring a smile to your face.

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @littlemisspascal @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker

@joelsgreys @tonysopranosrobe @morallyinept

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dadsbongos · 9 months ago

Text

cycle & jerk

5k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected, creampies), breeding kink, light choking, hair pulling, chilchuck's a mean dirty old man, heat cycle, i haven't written in awhile so like. idk don't execute me if this isn't a slay

summary - you are a rat-half foot-hybrid mix, king of the junjile but still social and fierce, and you go into heat and chilchuck can smell it (ew) and he's the only one that can help

~~~

Huffy panting causes Chilchuck to stir in his bedroll. A whine muffled into thin fluff, then the gentle drag of scratchy blankets catching on clothes as a lump grows more apparent beside him. Shyly, a hand wanders from clutching his arm to petting down his chest -- pausing at his belt and scrunching his shirt with a hearty groan. He watches quietly, heart thumping into his chest because he’s just not sure how to breach this.

Stupidly he’d assumed he still had more time. Looking back, he’s genuinely unsure as to why he ever thought that. The signs were there that tonight was his culling, weren’t they? He should’ve been more prepared.

four days prior.

Despite only servicing a single party in your entire adventuring career (and only wanting the one), you have a very strict set of dates in which you’re unavailable for work. Yet this month, regardless of his numerous efforts, your party leader has kept you in the dungeon past expiration.

“I told you I needed out of here before today, didn’t I?”

“You did…”

“And where am I?”

“Still here…”

To his credit, Laios appears earnestly ashamed -- hands folded in his lap and head bent to avoid looking you in the eye. He murmurs soft apologies, even as your attention is called across the room by Marcille.

“Take it easy,” she coos, which only infuriates you further, “What’s so important that you have to be so mad, anyway?”

“It’s basic decency,” you throw an arm out at your side, gesturing to your fellow half-foot on the right, “Chilchuck, back me up!”

“She’s right,” Chilchuck shrugs, “Although it sounds unfair to put all the blame on Laios.”

“I can’t leave before we’re done here,” you grumble, swiveling to face him fully (Laios sighs in gratitude that your wrath has been directed elsewhere), “I don’t get paid upfront, you know?”

“Huh, wonder if there was some way you could’ve fixed that.”

“I only work with Laios, why would I need to join a union?”

“Scab,” he coughs, far more teasing than of genuine frustration.

“Maybe we could help get you back to the surface if you told us what the problem was!” Marcille rolls around onto her hands, eyes wide in curiosity, “C’mon, share! Light a fire under us!”

“It’s embarrassing,” you scooch closer to Chilchuck before sagging against the wall, joining him on the ground. You fail to notice when he flinches at your proximity, “My business is my own.”

“Best leave it alone,” Senshi agrees, “We’ll just have to stay outta your way ‘til we’re done here.”

“Well, don’t avoid me,” you continue to scoff, watching as Izutsumi rustles along Chilchuck’s lap just to bat at your rounded ears with both paws, “Izutsumi, don’t touch those.”

She hisses quietly, only diverting her attention so far as your tail sandwiched between yours and Chilchuck’s thighs. You allow her to malleate the flesh, only because she makes no off-hand comments about how strangely cool the skin is (just the memory makes you glare over at Laios again, who cowardly shrinks back).

“You’re irritable today,” Chilchuck glances at you warily, tone equally cautious.

“And?”

His back slides down the wall until he’s nestled fully into his bedroll and turned away from you onto his side, “Nothing.”

Izutsumi hums quietly, head plopping into your lap, you two exchange confused glances before collectively deciding to let his sudden retirement go.

Since that night, Chilchuck has been avoiding you. You’re certain.

Initially, you’d attempted to rationalize it as a sense of hysteria, that you were simply hyper aware of his presence after the incident shared with Izutsumi. Until more incidents began compiling atop each other, and you were unable to pass them as individual misunderstandings.

Such as that next morning.

“Oh, you getting water?” Chilchuck rose from his slump against the far wall, gaze honed on Laios.

Your leader nods before thumbing towards you, “Yep. Found a small fountain across the hall. Wanna come?”

Chilchuck looks at you, blinking stupidly, before shaking his head, “I’ll probably wait until we set camp again.”

Then there was lunchtime.

“You’re so far away…” Marcille whines, stretching her arm out as if to manhandle Chilchuck back towards the rest of your party.

“There’s no room over there.”

Everyone stares at him for that, Izutsumi curling into your side protectively while Laios points down at the gaping space between you and Senshi with his plate. He grins, full of heart and goodwill, “There’s room right there, Chil’.”

“Oh,” Chilchuck’s shoulders slack, body unenthusiastically scooting across the floor until he’s awkwardly inserted beside you. Noticeably closer to Senshi than you, chuckling distantly and gazing solely into his food, “Duh. Didn’t notice that.”

Izutsumi smacks her lips in a rush to swallow her bite before contradicting, “You were staring at that spot for five minutes.”

“Thought you were gonna take it,” he recovers quickly, then promptly shutting his mouth the rest of lunch.

And the next day.

Anytime you spoke, he’d find an exit from the conversation. He’d conveniently need to speak with Laios, or Marcille, or Izutsumi, or Senshi whenever you approached. Not to mention how glaringly obvious the physical space between you was, whereas he usually traveled towards the middle of the pack with you he’s now suddenly braving the front alongside Laios.

Each effort on your part to shut down tension was swiftly dodged, only managing to thicken the strain between you.

Until that night:

“I’m heading for the bathroom,” Chilchuck rises from his bedroll with a yawn.

“Want me to go with?” Laios offers.

“No,” but his kindness is wasted on Chilchuck, who grimaces at the thought of pissing with a silently listening Laios.

Laios frowns over at you, “But it’s dark out there, I would’ve kept him safe.”

“He’ll live,” you retort, frustration with the lockpick boiling over into an eye roll.

You feel a lithe finger dig into your thigh, finding Marcille turned onto her tummy in her blanket, “You could go confront him now. He’ll have no excuses with nobody else around.”

Figures someone as invasive as Marcille is so invested in yours and Chilchuck’s recent friction.

“Yeah, I’ll just go up behind him while he’s peeing. Great idea.”

“Scare him into submission,” Izutsumi adds, though betraying you by selfishly occupying Chilchuck’s mat across the room. She snuggles into the warmth he’s left behind, yawning loudly -- looking about three seconds from drifting into slumber.

“There’s ale stocks along the way,” Senshi now joins the conversation, and is arguably the most helpful, “Some of ‘em bound to be full. He won’t turn down a drink.”

“Huh,” you tease the idea further. Even if by some uncharacteristic possession, Chilchuck does refuse the offer of alcohol, you can always beat him with the bottle. Knock him out to tie down and force out answers once he’s awake, “That could work…”

You replay that very thought process in your head as you await for Chilchuck to wander back down the hall. You passed as far as the corridor after the ale shelves before realizing how strange lingering outside the bathroom is, then deciding to sit with your back to the wall. Not long now, Chilchuck will be right in front of you.

He won’t jump back in shock, either. He’s heard you walking, you know he did because you heard him pause, sigh, and continue at a much, much slower pace. You’d almost be swooning over how he could discern it was you by your walk, if only there wasn’t such a vexing reason for you to be out here.

At least you have the advantage, your superior rodent vision can make him out in the pitch dark, meanwhile he’s relying on estimation as to where you are. If you wanted, you could probably just throw the ale at his head and get the knocking-him-unconscious bit over with.

“Okay,” he sighs again, louder, arms folded across his chest, “What?”

“Me what? How about you what?”

Chilchuck leans his head away from you, as if he can’t so much as stand to look at you, “What’re you talking about?”

“Just sit,” when he makes no such move, you lift one bottle in your hand, swirling the dark liquid inside, “I brought a bribe just to be nice, don’t let it go to waste.”

“Where’d you get that?” his curiosity blocks out his better instinct, sitting at your side to snatch up the bottle. You can see the instant he regrets it -- his nose wrinkles up and he swallows harshly, “Okay, what do you want?”

You ‘hpmh’ at his testy tone, letting him stew in the unpleasant silence before he’s uncorking the bottle and taking his first gulp. His nonchalance is more irritating than his avoidance; now he wants to insist you’re the weird one when he was dodging you as some toxic, erratic creature. Rage spurs you to your feet, swinging around to stand directly in front of him.

“You’re avoiding me, I know you are!” in retrospect, you will be glad you’re so far from the party so you two can yell without disturbing them.

“I am not!”

“Stop being defensive, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

“I can’t,” Chilchuck grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes, face blooming red. That tangy aroma usually hidden until it was right under his nose, flooding his mouth. It was now overpowering your usual scent, and he assumes the only reason you’re so oblivious is because your own advanced smelling has grown blind to it, “It’s nothing you can fix. I’m just cursed with heightened senses.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?!” you stumble back, arms curling around your stomach, “No way! You can…”

Oh, God.

“Yep.”

Oh, God, no.

“Gross!”

Chilchuck shrugs, tilting the ale against his lips and murmuring into tinted glass, “Usually it's only the bloody part we can pick up on, but uh,” he sips the bitter liquid, clearly hesitant to finish his thought until your curious hum encourages him, “I guess beastkin are more… potent…”

“Ew!”

“I didn’t want to finish saying it!”

“But you did,” you gag, “You’re a pervert, phrasing it all nasty like that.”

“What? Would you rather me say it how Laios would?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” you go rigid suddenly, heart seizing at the mention of Laios, “He can’t find out about this.”

“Agreed, it’d be disgusting to hear him ask all those personal questions.”

“So,” you emphasize, clasping your hands nervously, “I need to get it taken care of before I become a problem.”

Chilchuck freezes. Eyes drifting slowly from his bottle to your pinched face, “No.”

“What?”

“No. Ask Senshi or Marcille -- hell! Knock out two problems in one swoop and have Laios help! He’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life if he can get all his questions out now.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” you totally were, and you should’ve known better due to his aversion to interpersonal party-relationships, “Just, I dunno, keep me away from the others.”

“Why me?” he groans.

“You’re the only one who knows…”

“What about Izutsumi? Can’t she be your guard?”

“No! I wanna preserve my positive image in her mind as long as I can.”

Chilchuck scowls, polishing off the bottle with a loud gulp and rolling the neck between his hands, “Guess this is why we never saw you around this time.”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you’re gonna be miserable down here until it's over.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’ll only be worse once you actually go into heat.”

“I know, Chilchuck, I’m thirty -- I know how my own heats work.”

You watch confirmed and suspected information sink in for him: Chilchuck was surprised to meet you upon joining the party, as far as he’d heard from whispered tales beastmen looked human most of their lives. Yet you’ve got large, circular ears with a light layer of fur, a pudgy button nose that twitches, and a fleshy tail unfurling to your ankles. You store fat easier than any other half-foot he’s ever met, your legs are stronger and faster than any other half-foot, too.

As terrible as it sounds out of context, your body fascinates him. Not to liken himself to Laios, but well… Ideally this could be his perfect excuse to fully explore, he could have so many questions answered.

Are there humanoid ears hidden behind your hair? Does the peach fuzz on your tail match what courses over your thighs and arms? Has the strength of a rat’s jaw proportionally stretched to your own, like with your legs? Is your whole body warm like a humanoid or cool like your tail? Do you only leave every other month because your rat heat is worse than your human ovulation?

Would having sex with you be like with any other half-foot, or would you be a completely new experience?

Have your strange circumstances forced you into a romantic stasis, making you vulnerable and sensitive to his experienced hands?

If he refuses you now, would you take the bait and ask Laios for help instead?

“Laios seriously doesn’t know about this? At all?”

“I’m sure he knows menstruation exists,” and by proxy ovulation, “but no, I haven’t mentioned my heat.”

“I would’ve thought he’d constantly ask about your… anatomy…”

“Honestly, I think it’s why he approached me to join his party, but I told him off after the first weird question,” you laugh quietly at the memory, “Funny enough, he didn’t seem weird. Most men that approached me were dogs, so meeting him was a relief. Never wanted to work for someone else after our first dive together.”

Chilchuck nods slowly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the emptied bottle and staring into his dark, murky reflection, “You’ve been in the party longest. You gotta be fond of the guy by now.”

No, he corrects, judging by how you phrased it -- you’ve always been fond of him.

“I guess…” you shrug, “but I’m not fond fond,” you cross your arms defensively, humiliated chills racing up your arms at his unspoken rejection, “I could be, if you’re so adverse. It doesn’t have to be you, Chilchuck. Sorry for asking something so intimate.”

Chilchuck lays the bottle down, shaking his head as he stands, “Don’t ask that dolt. I’ll help.”

“Really?”

More questions infiltrate his mind, unwelcomed as they are interesting.

Do you squeal or huff when you cum? Are you the type to leave scratches? Do you bite (and thus, back to the jaw strength thing)? Would you let him yank your hair? Your tail? Both?

“Thanks, Chilchuck,” you feel the inexplicable need to whisper your appreciation, as if raising your voice could somehow rouse his testy attitude and result in backtracking.

“You should call me Chil.”

“Huh?”

“It’d be awkward to hear my whole name during sex. That’s about as close as people can get, right?”

“Oh!” you’re taken aback. You thought he was against that, though clearly…

His face is flushed (however his decisive speech and sturdy stance negate any intoxication allegations), and you can almost make out the thump of his heartbeat in the filling silence. Or maybe that part is your imagination. Maybe you’re hoping his heart is racing as fast as yours.

“When would be best?” he clears his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt as though it's choking him, “Now?”

“No!” you cry, mostly out of shock he’s that willing, “No, it wouldn’t do anything now since I’m not… you know. Yet. We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?”

“Not sure. This is why I like to be at home during.”

“I get it,” he runs a hand down the length of his face, hissing quietly in exasperation, “I hate playing these things by ear.”

“‘These things’?” you chuckle as Chilchuck’s face goes red at the implication, he storms past you praying you drop his slip-up, “You do this kind of thing often?”

“Shut up.”

“So, you’re just the guy to go to, then! I should come to you every other month!”

“Shut up!”

…

“Glad to see you two made up,” Marcille’s cheery tone is the first to rake through the room next morning, “Though…”

You’re practically draped over Chilchuck’s back, already feeling your body temperature climbing unnaturally. He’s patting your sweltering cheek sympathetically, allowing you to burrow your face into the bend of his neck. And you’re pressing your chest obnoxiously into his back.

“You’re a bit close,” she teases in a quiet giggle.

Chilchuck rolls his eyes, biting back any replies to avoid unintentionally spilling your secret.

He turns, lips brushing your temple as he whispers to you, “How’re you doing? I could probably lie to Laios and- “

“No,” you whine, embarrassment evident in how you curl your arms tighter around his waist and shuffle closer, “I can’t right now, that’s so… weird.”

“Sure, that would be weird.”

That night, both you and Chilchuck jammed into an off-room from the rest of your party. You two having made the escape after everyone else fell asleep to avoid questions about why you were separating yourselves.

He chooses not to comment on how you strip down to only your panties before falling asleep.

…

While he’s internally debating the ethics of chickening out on his promise to you, you’re suffering. Bad.

Sweat clings along the back of your neck and all down your molten face. Worse than that heat, is the one between your thighs. You’ve been duly rubbing at yourself through your panties for the better half of eternity, earnestly hoping to deal with this yourself rather than following through with using Chilchuck. That in itself is proof you’re barely in your right mind, masturbating has never worked before -- obviously it won’t now.

All it succeeds in is making you wetter and messier.

A little physical stimulation, you reason, can’t be bad. So you faintly trail a hand over Chilchuck’s soft stomach, pausing before his crotch and feeling your chest pound at the thought:

Below his navel is his penis.

Then there’s the next thought:

His penis should be inside you.

You moan quietly, eyes clenched shut and cheek smushing into your bedroll. Were you not preoccupied with the broiling in your stomach, you’d probably be feeling the ache in your knees holding up your weight. Your back arched and rear presented for mounting.

Just as you’re delirious enough with desperation to shake Chilchuck awake, he’s turning onto his side and carding stray hairs from your damp face. Fire licks up his fingertips and he frowns, “You’re warm.”

“Chil,” relief fills you at his voice, something else filling the seat of your underwear. The hand on his tummy winds up to the collar of his shirt, you fumble with the top button, “Chil, can you- ? Please, I feel so fucking hot, Chil. I need you.”

Chilchuck casts the others a brief glance through the door before pushing up onto his elbows, one hand joining yours between your legs. He swallows harshly at the warmth, slithering beneath the waistband of your panties to skim his fingertips directly along your pussy. You push back into his hand with a mewl, near the point of gasping for breath at the new sensation of a man’s fingers pressing inside you.

“Slipped right in,” he muses, tilting his head to be level with yours, “So wet and ready, you should’ve woken me up before. Could’ve saved you the embarrassment.”

Anything impactful like words and vowels is slurred as you rock into Chilchuck’s hand, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. The pads of his fingers dive towards the pouch of your stomach, curling in search of one specific spot.

You gasp sharply and buck back, unabashedly and with no care if it catches bleary eyes from the other room, making him sure he’s found it. His other hand juts out to press up on your tummy, only aiding the pressure of his fingers inside you.

“Not- uh! - not gonna finish like this, Chil,” you whine pathetically, batting your lashes at him wetly.

“Who said anything about that?” he slips his fingers out of you, then swishing the soaked digits around your clit just to hear you try, and fail, to muffle a squeal into your pillow, “Finish: like it's a job. I’m trying to watch you squirm like the bitch in heat you are.”

You hadn’t assumed he was the type, given his opposition to being personal. His consistent, almost annoyingly thorough, separation of business and pleasure. This (apparently incorrect) observation stems from how you also hadn’t assumed he was the type to be curious about you.

Chilchuck teases your slit to watch if you'll try smothering more moans by biting your mat. He inches his face to yours, listening for pinched curses and wails. Eyes trail down your face to your chest, studying the way it pillows against the bedroll. He feels every part the creep he accused Laios of being.

“You're so sensitive,” he notes, shuffling onto his knees behind you, shoving his pants midway down his thighs, “What? Not used to this?”

You swat at him in protest, though still humping pathetically. Every twitch and moan is based on pure instinct, you’ve got no clue how to intentionally be sexy -- you’re just praying Chilchuck is too hypnotized by your cunt for your inexperience to be glaringly obvious. Between work and the fetishizing of both your race and curse, a partner has been hard to find: making you a rare half-foot approaching your golden years as a virgin.

Chilchuck lubes the head of his cock with your syrupy wetness before sliding inside, hands playing the fat of your hips. He lets out a low groan, one hand groping from your side up the curve of your ass and along your spine before winding in your hair. His fingers slot around the roots, taking the base of your skull to use as leverage while he fucks you.

He can make out the choked sound of you tempering a moan by sinking your teeth into cushion. You reach back, nails snagging his exposed thigh to anchor him deep inside your wetly clicking cunt. Chilchuck wrangles your back against his chest by your hair, placing his hand over your mouth as a muzzle. Hot breaths fan the soft skin of his palm, skin slapping skin slowly growing louder in a way that should make Chilchuck more careful than it does.

Rather, he speeds up, hand on your hip rounding to circle your sloshed, swollen clit.

“Just shut up and take it,” he grunts, releasing your mouth to seize your throat, until ribbed tissue presses into his palm.

Gagged whimpers and gasps die as sputters in the pit of your chest, Chilchuck biting and sucking your neck to silence his own wanton crowing.

Every glide out of you is met with your violent heat and need sucking him back in. Your head swivels, putty nose rolling against his cheek as you press sloppy kisses along his cheek.

Heeding your frantic, whispered pleas, Chilchuck shifts to return your kisses. Tongue against tongue, hands pulling your bodies into one sticky tangle.

“Gonna let me breed you?” he growls, using his weight over you to suddenly pin you against your bedroll. Your wetness dripping toward the mat, down his wrist, and along his pelvis, “Gonna give me a baby? Make me a daddy?” your ass perks up, tail coiling around his thigh to tether him, he chuckles cruelly down at you, “Yeah, such a good mousy cunt for me. Open and wet, taking my cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, gasping aloud now only for Chilchuck’s hand around your neck to return to your face -- two of his fingers depressing your tongue. Even with the obvious attempt to hush you, you call to him. Garbled, braindead slews of pleas for his cum and begging for (somehow) more attention.

“Is this really all your heat, or are you just such a secret slut?” your whine and clenching stir him up, gooey and compliant and bursting at the seams just for you, “Trying to be all cute, asking for help,” his thrusts quicken when you arch back, hand snatching around his at your clit, “If you wanted to be my cumslut, you could’ve fucking said so.”

You bury your face into your makeshift bed, muffling something in the mat, and Chilchuck yanks your head up by your hair,

“What was that, slut?”

Your thighs are quivering, cunt gushing around him, chest pounding erratically with the need for air, “Just want your cum, Chil!”

Chilchuck stills against you, shuddering and cock heavy in your gut as he cums inside you--

Not that you’re finished yet.

“So good!” you sing, welcoming the reprieve and stubbornly tucking Chilchuck deeper inside you despite him being spent. He throws his head back, eyes rolling in his skull as you continue, “Just a bit more, Chil, please, please, please!”

“Desperate whore,” he slumps forward, biting your shoulder before whirring onto his back, “You do the work now, if you’re so fuckin’ greedy.”

“So mean,” you pout, though the complaint doesn’t deter you from sinking onto his cock like this.

“You’re gonna fuck me asleep,” Chilchuck is courteous enough to languidly snap his hips up into yours, “Needy, desperate bitch.”

For as much as he teases you -- he’s on the brink of tears from overstimulation, voice clipped and throat raw with the need to cry.

“Just one more,” you whine, hands scratching back against his chest, “Gimme one more, please?”

“Fuck,” Chilchuck sucks in a sharp breath, icy tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, “Fine.”

An airy giggle flows through your lips, ditzy and hot and eager.

A few aggravated plaps is enough for Chilchuck to be puffing and shaking, your bounces deteriorate into heedy grinding. Chilchuck winds both arms around your midsection to pull your back against his chest, frustrated tears caking his lashes the longer his abused cock cooks inside you.

“C’mon, babe, you can cum for me. You gotta feel good, too, right?” he’s murmuring in your fluffy ear, flicking your clit with his thumb, “No point in this if you don’t feel good, too.”

His words are not what flips you into euphoria, but rather the sensation of his cum trickling from your swollen cunt -- fucked loose from your incessant jerking on him.

You toss your head back, Chilchuck narrowly avoiding a broken nose by swerving to the side. Loudly thunking together, your clamped knees trap his hand between your thighs -- gurgled cries for breath and his name croak from your hanging mouth.

“Good slut,” he lays sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, fingers slowing to a pause on your clit, “Best cunt for me.”

“Thank you,” you sigh into the open air, voice all soft and sweet.

Chilchuck laughs at the sound, lulling to the side to spoon you, “You’re way nicer like this. Could get used to it.”

“Don’t ruin this,” you yawn, pinching his wrist.

“Whatever, this better be enough to satisfy you,” he pulls the blanket over your conjoined limbs, too drained to pull up his pants and redress you.

“Hey,” you call, met with a soft groan of acknowledgement, “You know I’m not a mouse, right? I’m a rat.”

“Mhm,” he lazily confirms, “Sounds better than ratty cunt, though. So pick your battles.”

The next morning, a hand is shaking you awake. A soft and polite gesture immediately ruined when you realize the hand is much larger than Chilchuck’s. In a panic, your eyes shoot open to see your cheerful party leader.

“Thanks for going in the other room,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and you want to punch him, “I figure you two would want to get sorted out before everyone else wakes up.”

“Laios…”

“Hm?” his hand is still burning a hole through the sheet on your shoulder.

“Stop touching me.”

“Sorry!” he clutches the offending mitt to his chest, then rising to a stand and waving goodbye, “See you in a bit! Try not to take too long, okay? I have a lot of questions.”

“Get out.”

Unbothered by your mortification, Laios gives a thumbs up and creeps out into the room with the rest of your party.

“We should kill him,” Chilchuck husks into your ear.

“We should.”

“So,” Chilchuck cups the pouch of your tummy, squeezing in a way simultaneously strange and affectionate, “‘s this gonna become a problem?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I think I’m infertile.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Rat eggs and human eggs don’t actually mix well.”

“Well, it’s a relief I won’t have to raise another kid, I guess. How terrible would that be? I’d be on my deathbed when it gets married.”

…?

???

“Hey, wait,” you roll over in bed, brows furrowed at the man, “Another?”

He nods sluggishly, judgment clouded by both drowsiness and libido, “Three daughters already, so that’d be my fourth,” he cackles at your shocked face, “What? Sex with a coworker you don’t know isn’t panning how you thought?”

“Oh, shut up. I know you, just not your family. Totally different.”

“Definitely. Opposites.”

“So,” Laios swings his head towards Chilchuck, smiling politely, “How many nipples?”

~~~

stupid bonus

“What?” Chilchuck’s eye twitches.

“Sadly, I think it's only two because there’s only two visible mammaries…” the blonde has the gall to sigh at such a thought before suddenly blooming excitement, “Unless there’s more hiding in some kind of wrap! Are there?”

#chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck smut #chilchuck tims smut #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dunmeshi smut

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glossykissies · 2 months ago

Note

Taps both tittys on the mic: Shane would call you little miss/missy when you’re acting up.

The moment Shane stepped into the tent, he could tell you were in one of those moods. Sitting there with your arms crossed, lips in a little pout, eyes downcast. He had half a mind to ignore it—just let you work through whatever nonsense had you all wound up—but then you sniffled. Sniffled.

Shane sighed, already rolling his eyes before he even crouched down in front of you, big hands bracing against your knees. Here we go.

“What’s all this, huh?” His voice was thick with amusement, but there was something sharp under it too—like he was already gearing up for whatever ridiculous explanation you were about to give. “You sittin’ here sulkin’ like I just scolded a damn puppy. Why you fussy, baby?”

Your jaw clenched, but you refused to look at him, just to be stubborn. That only made him grin.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Shane drawled, sliding a hand up your thigh, his palm warm and firm as he gave a squeeze. “Lil’ Miss don’t wanna talk to me now? She just wanna sit there all huffy like I ain’t the one takin’ care of her, feedin’ her, keepin’ her pretty little ass alive?”

You made a small sound in protest, shaking your head, but he just tutted, like he was dealing with a bratty kid. “Mhm. Thought so.”

Then, with that frustrating strength of his, he pulled you forward, forcing you to unfold your arms as you caught yourself against his chest. His voice dropped lower, all slow and syrupy sweet. “Now, why don’t you go on and tell me what’s got you all twisted up, baby? You mad at me?”

You tried to shake your head, but he caught your chin between his fingers, tilting it up so you had to look at him. His dark eyes were amused, but there was something possessive there too, something knowing.

“Mm-mm. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” He gave your chin a little shake before releasing you, letting his hand smooth down your arm instead. “Ain’t no reason to pout over nothin’. So why don’t you be a good girl and tell me what’s wrong instead’a makin’ me drag it outta you?”

It was infuriating, the way he spoke to you like you were some spoiled little thing, too delicate to handle real conversation. But the worst part? The way your stomach fluttered at it. At the way he liked you like this—soft, fussy, needing him to pry the words from your lips. And he knew it, too.

“Go on, baby,” he coaxed, brushing a thumb over your cheek, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “Ain’t got all day to sit here and baby you.” He absolutely did- but even if he didn’t, you both knew he would.

i have no energy to write but luckily this amazing nonnie has done it for me so everyone read this masterpiece !!!!

#nonnies ୭ 🧁 ✧ ˚. 🎀#s.w ♡#the walking dead ✮

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pit-and-the-pen · 1 year ago

Text

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Pt 2 to unrequited love)

A/n: HERE IT IS BESTIES!!! The official Pt 2 to unrequited love! I know the poll is still live but I’m impatient. So to make sure I’m still taking everyone’s votes into account there will be an alternate ending that should be posted right after this.

Read the Alt ending here, it's pretty similar in places

Read Pt 3 here

I'm still absolutely blown away by how well-received the first part was. This is going to be an ongoing series, all could be read individually but the "background" will be these two fics.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, reader suffers from depressed thoughts

WC: ~3.4k

divder by @cafekitsune

The next morning I was in Rhys office. He barely even looked up from the paper strewn over his desk before I spoke.

“I’m going back home.”

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes raked over me, “Does this have anything to do with why Azriel was so huffy this morning?” His eyebrow raised and I felt the anger I’d been trying to quell since last night rise its head up like a sleeping dragon.

“Fuck off. Let him be mad if he wants to be mad.” I snapped.

“Mad isn’t exactly how I would put it,” He paused looking at me. “What happened?” The High Lord questioned. I sighed not having the strength to recount the events from last night.

“Nothing but the inevitable.” he frowned at my non-answer but didn’t press any harder.

“I’ll miss you. We all will.” He said finally. I nodded.

“You all should visit.” Not an I’ll visit. No. If I could avoid it I would never step foot into this miserable court ever again.

I was gone by mid-morning. Mor had helped me winnow the things I wanted to take with me. What they did with the rest wasn’t any of my concern. Rhys or Feyre had bought it all for me anyways, let them decide what to do with their money.

Once I had gotten settled into my room, I hugged Mor goodbye and thanked her for her help. She just gave me a tighter hug and told me she would visit soon.

It was two weeks before I could see Helion.Two weeks of settling back into my court that I loved so dearly. He was visiting Dawn court for some trade agreement that needed to be signed. I came by every day, asking if he’d returned you. His second would just silently shake her head at me. And I would stomp back to my room like an angry babe.

Two weeks of checking before I finally saw her nod her head and I had to stop myself from running into Helions office. I had the control to at least knock on the door but not much else. I quickly shut the door behind me as he called me in.

“Sunbeam!” He called out when saw my face. “I had hoped the rumors of you moving back home were true.” He walked around the desk and gave me a brisk hug. Very out of character for him.

“You’re not an easy man to schedule an appointment with, Helion.” I smiled warmly at the High Lord of my court.

“If you wanted a piece of me, you only had to say the words and I would have come running darling.” There's the flirt I remember. I thought, rolling my eyes.

“But judging by your urgency in requesting a meeting that my second expressed to me, I’m going to assume that’s not what you wanted to see me for.”

My smile dropped as I braced myself for the question I needed to ask him.

“I need you to break a mating bond”

His mouth fell open. For once in my life, Helion was speechless. “I don’t know if I can even do that. Are you sure that’s what you want?” His eyes saw right through me. I threw my head back, a sad laugh bubbling past my lips.

“Yes. No. Gods I don’t know. I just don’t want it to hurt like this forever.” I felt treacherous tears starting to fall down my face. Helion grabbed my arms gently before I could wipe them away.

“I know you well enough to know that you don’t run away from hard things.” He held me against his chest as I really started to sob.

“Helion. Every second that I’m away from him it kills me. I’m over here dying inside over some male who only ever saw me as a second option.”

“Then he’s an idiot. But the mother still saw fit to make you two mates. Give it some more thought, you’re clearly still not fully decided. I’ll do some research to see if it’s even possible and if you still want to, I’ll be here to help.” I nodded my thanks into his shirt. He takes my head between his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking down my face. He gives me a gentle kiss on the top of my head before I walk out of the room.

I sat on the decision for a month. A month of volleying back and forth. Weighting the pros and cons of my choice. I had started doing my own research through the tomes in the library I had access to. My eyes widened as I finally found the information I needed.

Picking up the book I all but sprinted to Helion’s office. I didn't bother knocking as I pushed past the door. Helion looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow at me.

Panting, I showed him the page in the book. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.” I promised him. He still looked skeptical but walked around to where I stood anyway.

“I can’t say this is going to be pleasant.” He said wearily as I laid down on the couch in his study. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this. I’ve seen rejection but this is cutting off the magic at the source.”

I looked into the males eyes, eyes I had known my whole life.

“Please. Nothing can hurt more than this already does.” Sympathy washed over his face and he leaned over me, placing a hand to each of my temples. It felt like the worst headache I had ever had in my life. My head was being split open and I heard the whimper leave my mouth. The pressure of his hands lifted slightly and I fought to get out the words. “I’m okay. Keep going.” I couldn’t open my eyes to see his face but his hands didn’t move. The pounding broke to a burning heat. I could feel the moment it snapped, I could almost picture the scissors snipping that tight string that connected us. One last fleeting rush of pure pain pushed through the bond. And then it was gone. My head was still pounding, I opened my eyes and saw Helion panted above me.

“How do you feel?” He asked, helping me into a sitting position.

“Like I have one hell of a hangover.” I pressed a hand to the bridge of my nose. Like I could squeeze out the uncomfortable feeling. “But also lighter.” My free hand going to my chest. It would take some time to adjust to this new feeling. But I could not stop the smile that spread over my face. Before Helion could say anything else, I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I can’t thank you enough.” I said into his neck. He gave a tight laugh and hugged me back.

“You should go sleep this off. Please tell me if any of the pain gets worse.” He held my face between his hands and I nodded as much as I could. I all but floated back to my room.

I fell into a familiar routine back in the Day Court. I took up my old job as a researcher. My days were spent surrounded by the massive libraries of my home court. People would come to us with questions and it was our job to use the knowledge at our disposal to find them answers. It kept me busy at the very least, but I did have to admit that I love doing it. I felt more useful here than I ever had at the Night Court. Pangs of sadness would rip through me when someone snarked in a way that made me think of Cassian. When someone would smirk and I could only picture Rhysand standing in front of me as he beat me in chess. The art was so beautiful that I longed to show Feyre if only to see that twinkle in eye as she dissected the colors and shading used.

I smiled as the pang in my chest at the thought of Azriel held no pain. It had taken me some time to get used to the emptiness in my chest, I had grown so used to the hollow feeling of the unreturned bond but this emptiness wasn’t pain but instead it was like a weight had been taken off my chest.

Someone calling my name pulled me from my musing. One of the messengers, Dia, smiled brightly up at me. “Hey sunbeam. Helion asked me to deliver this to you.” I took the golden envelope from her. I thanked her and she turned around, leaving me back to my books.

I slid my finger under the seal and pulled out the letter. He was flirty even in a letter. He had requested that I accompany him to the latest ball he was hosting. Helion, ever the charmer, even placed boxes for me to check yes or no. I giggled to myself at the juvenile nature of it, but checked yes with the quill sitting next to me.

The ball was just a few days away and I was so excited as dress after dress were brought into my room for me to try on. The one that ended up catching my eye was a floor length glossimer dress, such a pale golden color it looked almost like sunlight itself. The bottom was dyed a light pink color that flowed into it seamlessly. It took my breath away as I smoothed out the light fabric. It fit like a glove and I knew instantly this was the dress I had to wear.

My reflection looked like a stranger. My hair was pinned to one side, sweeping down over my shoulder and my back. A golden tiara was woven into loose curls. Long golden chandelier earrings studded with diamonds almost touched my shoulders. The sun had created a sultry blush on the high points of my cheeks. I looked happier than I had in years. I sensed Helion's presence in my room and caught his eyes in the floor length mirror.

He let out a low whistle and I blushed, adjusting my tiara. I walked over to him and he held out his hand for me, twirling me around dramatically when I took it. “No one will be able to take their eyes off of you, Sunbeam.” His eyes hungirly raked over me, “If you ever reconsider my offer. I would take you to bed in a heartbeat. Just say the words.” I pushed his shoulder, I didn’t doubt his words.

“Keep your pants on Helion. We have a ball to get to.”

“I’m High Lord. I can be late.” His pupils had dilated and I rolled my eyes, pushing him out the door before I linked my arm into his.

The ball was as lavish as I had expected. There was much to celebrate and this was mostly to welcome the new High Lord. Eris. Beron had finally died a few months back and Eris had officially stepped into the role with grace. The autumn court once known for its cruelty seemed to be taking a new direction and as I talked to nobility from the court, it was for the better. I had gotten to know him over the years, his frequent visits to the Night Court, plus a few flirty exchanges that I always brushed off, while he was helping us during the war softened me to him. Learning the true events of that night with Mor.

I locked eyes with Eris across the room. He had been heartbreakingly handsome when he was just High Fae but as a High Lord? His hair had grown slightly longer, just touching his shoulders. Dressed in a deep maroon suit that showed off every single one of his muscles. The permanent scowl that had been etched into his face had been replaced with a smile that radiated comfort. My feet seemed to move without deciding to. Eris kept his eyes locked onto mine as I got closer. My cheeks heated up under his intense stare.

“Hi little sunbeam,” Honeyed words wrapped around me. “Seems like you’re no longer hiding in the shadows.” He held out his hand, eyes flickering to the dance floor. I smiled up at him and gently placed my hand in his.

His touch was firm and the warmth of his power radiated off of him. He clutched my waist, pulling me flush to his front. I felt every plane of his toned body pressed against me and goosebumps broke out across my skin having nothing to do with the temperature in the room. The two of us gilded across the floor. I could feel the eyes of the room on us but I only had eyes for the male in front of me.

“If I had known you danced this good, I would have pulled you out of that miserable court a long time ago.” He spoke into the shell of my ear. “I’ll never understand what the Shadowslinger was thinking, even I could smell the mating bond on you. Plus, one look at me with those beautiful doe eyes and I would have been putty in your hands.” He nipped at my earlobe and I felt it deep in my stomach.

“Well good thing he’s not my mate anymore.” I whispered back to him, voice breathy. He responded with a kiss to my neck. All of a sudden I felt his warmth disappear. Before I could even process what had happened, I was standing half ways across the room. Eris just smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Stand down, you overgrown bat.” The High Lord said and that’s when I heard the growl from my side, caught a glimpse of wings and sapphire blue. Before another word could leave my mouth, I was being pulled out of the ballroom and outside to the balcony.

I thrashed against Azriel’s grip on my arm. His hand wrapped around my wrist tight enough to bruise.

“What the hel was that?” He yelled at me, finally letting go of my wrist.

“You had no right!” I screeched at him. Anger seethed through me. I felt my palms heat up from the light trying to escape from them. He went to grab my arm and I ripped it back from his reach. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Please.” Was all he said and suddenly it was like that night all over again. Me pouring my heart out and all he could say was please.

“Please what, Azriel? Is that all you know how to do, beg and plead. For what? Was breaking my heart once not enough for you.”

“Gods. What do you want me to say?” He ran his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to lose it. Good. “Do you want to hear how I was fucking terrified. How any good thing that I had ever received had been taken away from me? That when I felt that twinge in my chest, that I knew what it meant but prayed to the gods that it wasn’t that.” I went to start in on him again. “Would hearing that I looked for you in every female I came across help us here?.”

“Stop. Just stop. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed this all before but do you actually think I’m stupid enough to believe it?” I spit out between my teeth.

“No. Gods this is coming out all wrong.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair. I clocked the shake in them “Why did you break the bond?”

I laughed at his audacity. “Why? You have the nerve to ask me why?” My voice dripped venom, “I did it because I couldn’t stand being tied to you like that. That night..” I started, he interrupted me.

“I said the most vile things I could think of. I panicked when you told me about the bond. If you could feel it too, I knew nothing good could have come from that so I pushed you away.” I shook my head, as if I could shake his words away from my ears.

“You seemed so shocked when I told you.”

His head sunk down, voice small “I was shocked because no part of me believed, believes, that I deserve you in that way.” When he stepped forward, I didn’t step away. Mind too busy catching up with his words. “Please say something. “

I turned my eyes up to look at him. Hazel eyes soft sparkling with unshed tears. I wanted to rip into him. I truly did. Some sick part of me wanted to make him hurt like he had hurt me but I know that wouldn’t fix anything here. What is done was done.

“You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to say all the right things and just have me forgive you. You don’t get to say that you love me after everything you did.” He sighed. Leaning his head on top of mine. I frowned at the contact, but didn’t push him away, refusing to melt into him. “Whatever your reason. You said all those things that you knew would hurt me, you said them and some part of you had to believe them.”

“I know. There isn’t a day that I don’t regret everything that I said, everything I had put you through over all those years. I took you for granted and I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you were gone. Until I felt that bond being snatched away from me” I wanted to push him back but something in me let his words sink into my bones.

“I had dreamed for so long how it would feel when I finally heard you say those words, And do you know what I feel?” His eyes glimmered with hope as I took a step away from him, out of his grasp. “Nothing. I feel nothing for you. Not anger, not contempt.” Tears slipped out of his eyes at my harsh words. “Of course I remember what it felt like before. Maybe some part of me will always love you in my own way but I’m not tied to you anymore and I have never been so thankful for something in my entire life.” He flinched like I had hit him.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was so small it almost made me feel bad for him. Almost.

“I do.” I sucked in a heavy breath. “Look, we’ll most likely still have to see each other so I don’t want to end on a bad note. You were still one of my best friends for over a century and this doesn’t undo all of that but this,” I gesture between the two of us, “Will never be anything else but that, a friendship.” He gave me a sad smile.

“I’ll take whatever you are willing to give me.” I turned to walk away and he reached for my arm, I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before I walked back to the ball that was in full swing.

I weaved in between bodies easily. Finding Eris with ease. Despite being in the middle of a conversation, he stepped away the moment he sensed my presence. Not sparing a glance to the fae surrounding him.

“That’s all settled then?” He asked, giving me a once over. I nodded and took his hand again.

“I believe we were in the middle of a dance?” I pulled him against me, not realizing how much I missed the feeling of his heat against my skin. I placed my head on his chest. We didn’t so much as dance, more so swayed in place. Arms wrapped around each other. He tapped my chin with a gentle finger and I let him guide my mouth up to his. The kiss was soft and sweet, like holding your hands in front of a warm fire after a day in the cold. When I tried to deepen it, he laughed against my lips. I let out a shameless whine as he disconnected our lips. As I looked into his eyes, I felt the stirring of something familiar and for the first time, welcomed it as that hole in my chest was filled again.

Tagging people that seemed excited about pt. 2

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @yearninglustfully @myromanempiree @starsandsins @melmo567 @saltedcoffeescotch

#azriel acotar #unrequited love #acomaf #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel angst #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #eris acotar #eris fluff #eris vandaddy

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whalesforhands · 22 days ago

Text

what’s yours is mine (13/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

Sometimes, you wonder how nice it would be to be popular. You’d get surrounded by classmates fawning over you, get tons and tons of gifts every morning when you open your shoe locker and even get offered other people’s homework when you forget to do yours.

How nice it would be to be like Geto Suguru—

“You listening, (last name)?” A snap of her fingers brings your eyes back into focus, back to the current you who was supposed to be reading the excerpt on how denim overalls are back in style and how ‘to doll yourself up like a fairy!’.

Because being popular means reading the popular things too, right?

(But is this really what they read in their free time? It’s a bit… Not as glamorous as you thought. But to be fair, Suguru’s room is only filled with poetry books and light novels.)

“…I like the chocolate art.” You’re not lying. It does make it look extremely appetizing, extremely alike things you would want to receive this spring, because—

“Graduation’s coming! You gotta be a little bit more excited, (last name).” The smile on her face curves just a little more, twitches slightly at the corner of her lip as her eyes upturn with a little more excitability.

(She’s happier today. Maybe that’s why she keeps interrupting your thoughts before they can finish.)

“I am excited.”

“Then show a little more energy, (last name)!” She’s huffy about it, her tone a bit dismissive and the twinkle in her eye fading away as her smile fades into something more distant, something more neutral.

(Ah, she’s back to her usual self now.)

Maybe one day, you’ll be able to find a way to exorcise such things. Maybe one day, you’ll see her smile for real. Maybe one day, you’ll be a true hero.

But it won’t be now.

Mijou Kana was the girl you couldn’t save after all. So you can’t fault her, don’t blame her. Survival is a means to an end, and you respect those who make a the best of what they have.

(Because Saya-chan said that once.)

“Yay…?” This is excitement. Your excitement— Yet, it just hasn’t settled in quite yet. Who would’ve thought middle school would end… Just like that? In a snap of your fingers, in a blink of an eye, in a— Flutter of your eyelashes?

(This magazine is getting to your head.)

Nonetheless, it does feel weird to know you’re going to have to travel further than Akutami Elementary, past Gege Middle School and into some… Random highschool that you have yet to pick out.

“Futures are always uncertain, and the past is always behind! So enjoy the present that you have now!”

(Isn’t it because it’s just easier to forget about the current situation? Isn’t it just easier to live and let live—)

“(last name)? Are you even listening anymore?” There’s a snap of her fingers now, a look of passive aggravation and perplexed neutrality that was always about her expressions. Right. You need to focus on the present, focus on her; taking a peek at the magazine you were just reading and—

“Then what do you like in a person, Mijou-san?”

(You didn’t even know you were on this page. Is this a common topic among popular kids too?)

And for the first time, you think you’ve stunned her. At least, you think you did with the way she looked slightly taken aback, a sudden pink on her cheeks and her eyes widening by just that littlest fraction— To form an expression you’ve never seen her make.

“I-I guess...” She coughs into her hand as her eyes dart from side to side in a shifty manner, her shoulders sagging as she lowered her voice. “I’d want them to be romantic.”

——

Spring is approaching. You know it is— That’s why the sakura petals were beginning to pink, the air getting just that little bit warmer and the clouds don’t always swallow the sunlight’s rays.

Graduation dawns upon the near horizon as you stare up at the ceiling, at the warm orange lighting and the quietness of the whirring air conditioner.

“This doesn’t feel romantic at all.” Your face is blank as you chew on the chocolate in your mouth, sat in between Suguru’s legs as you lean back, your head against his chest and your eyes staring up at his chin.

In fact, you think it does feel quite… Sturdy? Quite like you were leaning against a living, breathing wall that smelled like lavender and citrus.

(You suppose all that martial arts training has given him quite the built physique. Saya-chan did say she preferred her partners to be active, maybe you kind of get her?)

It’s weird. A bit too strange in your opinion. Not uncomfortable by any means— But not comfortable in the romantic sense either… Not that you know what that is, but you’re beginning to think you’re a little too comfortable when it’s supposed to make your heart ‘flutter’, your stomach ‘swirling’ with ‘butterflies’ and your head dizzy with… Love?

(It does sound more like a disease than anything, but still… It was really easy to convince Suguru to help you out with this.)

You followed everything in that magazine Mijou-san had let you read, her eyes sparkling as they trail over the gushy words and cheeks ablaze with a rosy blush that you can’t help but find… Cute.

“Do you think… I could be like that too, one day?” There’s a look in her eye, shimmering with a feeling you don’t know, but one you want to acquaint yourself with if it got you all giddy like that.

How cute.

“Ah, what am I even saying…” She had a hand over her eyes now, as if she was hiding away and embarrassed. “You wouldn’t get it, right (last name)?”

You don’t. So you wonder… Would it be fun to be a maiden in love? To experience what the many girls in your class gush about their blossoming of their hearts and the swirls of unsteadiness in their chest?

Would it be?

“Mm… Maybe you’re not relaxed enough?” His arm is around your waist, dragging you close as you feel his forehead rest on your shoulder from behind, voice a sleepy drawl as strands of his now longer hair tickle your nape.

‘Entering his bedroom is a huge step forwards in terms of infiltrating your crush’s inner thoughts! (For legal purposes, breaking and entering is not condoned, and readers who write in who confess to such will be reported.)’

“I am relaxed when I’m with you, though.” Your hand plays with a strand of his hair that had fallen over your shoulder, your body going lax in his hold as you sit on his bed— Or would it be more accurate to say you’re practically sitting on him. “You consent to this, right?”

You hear a bit of sigh, the vibrations sending tingles down your spine and a bit of fuzz into your brain. “…yes. You’ve asked me that at least 3 times now.”

“Good.” And your shoulders slump once more as you both settle into the silence, letting you simmer in your own thoughts as you let yourself be held.

‘Cuddling (consensually) with your crush means you’ve got him lined, hooked and sinkered!’ Enjoy your relationship and make sure to verbally confirm your status as a couple! (Again, for legal purposes, even if he rejects you, please do not resort to violence.)’

“Suguru.”

“Hm?”

“Do you understand love?” It’s sudden and a bit of a rhetorical question, something a bit abstract and possibly impossible to answer.

(But you need to learn.)

The silence that follows after is one that just can’t be explained, much too unlike the comfort you both were sitting in just moments ago, with his fingers tapping against the back of your hand in thought as you hear him hum gently into your shoulder.

“Do you want me to?”

A question answered by another question. Funny, but it isn’t exactly what you’re looking for right now.

(But to be fair, it is an unfairly abstract question to ask your childhood best friend while sitting in his bedroom and making him feed you.)

There’s another chocolate lightly prodding at your mouth, nudging past your lips as you obediently open and chew, tongue lolling the remnant sweetness about as you reposition his lax arms to be more securely wrapped around your waist.

“Not if it’s too much.”

Geto Suguru doesn’t get it either, it seems.

——

They say graduation is the season of love, the season where the air changes and the petals fall into your hair and pollen just so happens to go into your nose as you desperately try to stop yourself from making a sound.

“U-Uhm…! Ieiri-san—!” Her hands cup over her chest, hair obscuring her face and the way her fingers trembled ever so slightly with every move makes you feel… Hopeful. Yearning. The type of feeling that makes you want to cheer them on from afar with loud yells telling them to ‘Get Married!’.

(What a cute girl.)

“Could y-you meet me under the tree behind the school later?” Stuttering, shy, sweet. So many words to describe the situation as you watch on with sparkly eyes and a thumping heart. “I really—“ A near choke on her words. “Really want to tell you something!”

(It’s love, after all.)

Maybe it’s not something for you to break down and understand, or something you can ‘get’ in a heartbeat or with a fluttering, pink gaze. But it might be something you can indulge in as much as possible, something you can marinate in, even if it’s not your own until you can possibly even hope to get even a semblance of ‘knowing’.

“(last name).” You perk up, only slightly startled when you hear the quiet voice from behind you. Familiar, but not enough for you to immediately recognize when taken by surprise.

(You’ve been spotted. Your castle has fallen. Your ship has sunk. So much for being a quiet bystander.)

“Are you… Watching Ieiri-san?” Ah. It’s… That guy.

…who is this again? The hair, the eyes, the shape of his nose and the curve of his shy, polite smile. You definitely know him, you’re pretty sure. You think for a bit, eyes flittering to his increasingly blushing face and to the floor, then back to eyes that seemed to be curious, seemed to be confused. Strong features, which means—

“Saeki-san.”

The smile that you get in return makes you feel kinda proud that you remembered the name of the guy sitting behind you in class.

“You remembered this time, huh?” His face is practically aglow with gentle happiness, such a contrast to his last name as you nod in reply, eyes trailing back to the girls you were, in fact, spying on. “Thanks, (last name)-san.”

(Or… Maybe you haven’t been discovered just yet. He’s always been nice… So honesty is the best policy, right? What would warrant a lie?)

“I’m not watching anyone, by the way.” A nod as you cross your arms at him, quick to act dismissive, quick to act coy. “That’s rude to assume.”

(To be fair, honesty is quite the hard feat. Especially when you’re trying to be inconspicuous.)

And from the corner of your eye, you see her mouth a few words, see her usual blank gaze stay transfixed on the shy girl before her.

“O-Oh, sorry then, (last n—).”

“Shh!” You hurriedly pull him closer, slapping his words away with a hand to his mouth, away from the hall, away from visible line of sight, away from the girl confessing her feelings for Ieiri Shoko by the sinks as the sunlight breathes gently into the sunny room.

(It’s a pretty scene.)

You feel a beating heart, rapidly increasing as you continue to watch in bated silence, your hands gripping tightly around his wrist and upon his face as you shush him and hold him close.

(There’s not much space behind this door. Especially if you don’t want to be seen or heard.)

She says words you can’t seem to transcribe in your awkward position, too strangely hidden away from sight to get a good read as you narrow your eyes and begin to pout.

(If only Saeki-san didn’t find you. How are you meant to learn about love like this?)

The girl only has her head lowered, an expression akin to a shy smile making your own heart tingle with a feeling unknown. Her head hung low, her hands to her face before you see her produce a pretty envelope with an even prettier stamp— One that matched the pretty shade of Shoko’s eyes.

Ieiri Shoko is… Yet to be confirmed. You think.

(“(l-last name)…!” His eyes are practically spinning and his face a burning red when the coast is finally clear, your failure to successfully eavesdrop evident as you pout at him, releasing his red form away from you.

Is he getting some sort of fever? It isn’t good to get sick so close to graduation.

“Sorry, Saeki-san. Get well soon.”

“…h-huh?”)

——

“These zodiac signs better be careful today!” Saya-chan’s face elegantly switches to one of worry, her shiny hair glittering under the studio lights. “It’s a day of uncertainties and paths that lead to more downfalls, so make sure to wear today’s lucky colour to help boost morale and luck!”

“This was Ito Saya, with today’s Astro~cast!”

“And then— I pummeled that thing into oblivion and finished the entire the game in only 68 hours!” With his bag tucked under his arm, sunglasses atop his head as he gives you a cheeky grin, having made you loop your arm around his as you were personally escorted by a certain someone through the school’s gate.

2 hours late, that is. And to your own graduations, at that.

7:58 AM. Your eyes blink once. And another time— Before flittering towards your calendar and back at your pajamas and the sunlight that was flittering through your curtains.

Suguru was— Ah.

“I won’t be able to walk with you to school tomorrow.” His eyes are sunken in apology, his brows slightly knitted as he frowns. “I’ve gotta go help set up for graduation tomorrow. Student council duties.” A sigh to cement his frustration.

“Sleep early and make it on time, okay? It starts at 9:00 AM.”

“I know, Suguru,” You pout at him from your window, wind puffing into your cheeks in annoyance as you see him laugh at you. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

(So much for that big talk.)

So you blink at your phone, at the 8 missed calls from Shoko, the 17 from Suguru and at the 3 mails from Satoru that you’ve yet to read… And your next few actions, you swore were by pure instinct as your fingers hurriedly tapped away at the buttons of your cellphone.

“Gojo Satoru speaking!”

And that’s how you got the Gojo Satoru to attend his graduation and come for the very last day of his middle school life… Because what would be his beginning if he wasn’t there for his ending?

(And would you even call it one? He missed so many days that you’re surprised anyone even remembered he was a student here.)

But you’re proven wrong again when he unlocks his shoe locker to reveal a mass of love letters streaming out, the spring breeze fluttering them about as flurries of pink, white, blue and red carry the varying scents of perfume and sweet flowers.

Spring really is here. You can tell just by the way Satoru had that almost never ending pile of love letters that he had accumulated— And with graduation, secret admirer after secret admirer had been using this final chance to confess their undying, hidden love for him.

(He’s well-loved. And he’s deserving of it, you think. Your Satoru is cute, is nice—)

“Tch. What a pain.” His former chipper tone turns into one of sour irritation, a sigh leaving his lips as he frowns at the letters piling at his feet.

(Ah.)

“Why? Want ‘em?” He’s cheeky as he tilts his head at you, his hand reaching into his locker to pick up one of the letters that was somehow stuffed deep inside, waving the frilly paper around without any conscience. “I can’t let ya eat any of the treats they give though. ‘S all cheap stuff that might’ve been contaminated or something.” A tap of his chin in thought before his grin shows his usual mischief.

“We can feed ‘em to Suguru. He’s gonna be all like ‘Satoru~ You can’t waste the—‘“

“But… They were made for you, Satoru.” Feelings upon feelings layered and made tangible on scented paper and flowery stickers, courage manifested into an ‘understanding’ of love pressed into ink.

“Uh huh. And?” Like he didn’t care— No, like it never mattered at all as you hear him drop his indoor shoes onto the ground, crushing and leaving an imprint on one of the many love letters, smudging the ink and stomping out its flowery aroma. “It’s not like I asked for them.”

He’s right. You can’t contest something like that. But is it unwarranted to want your feelings to reach someone through unspoken words and quiet letters? Is it intrusive to want to tell someone sweet feelings that want to be heard?

So you pick up the letters, gently, gingerly scooping up the ones that have scattered too far as Gojo Satoru— Huffs and decides to gruffly stuff the ones that he had unwittingly let fall to the floor— Off the dirty ground.

“I dunno why you care so much about these since ya know I never read ‘em,” You can practically hear the roll of his eyes. “But whatever. I don’t wanna get another lecture from Suguru, anyway.”

A pause just as his fingers brush against yours as you both reach for the same sakura covered envelope.

“But if you write me one, I’ll read it in its entirety for ya. My time is precious, you know?” There’s a hum in his words and a smugness about him as he stands once more, bringing you up with him when he envelops your hand in his.

“So why don’t ya pick the ones ya want me to read? I’ll do it just for you too.”

(How… Cruel.)

That’s when you realize— Past the headpat he was giving you, past the way he had slipped his sunglasses down to obscure his eyes and how he had so carelessly stepped on a pretty, laced letter that he managed to miss that you understand…

Gojo Satoru doesn’t get love at all.

——

“And so, as your principal, I would like to congratulate each and every one of you for completing your studies and graduating.” A clear of his throat as his glasses shine against the hall’s light. “Remember that this isn’t the end of the road, that you future Betas, Alphas and Omegas will face all sorts of hardship regardless of your secondary genders—“

Ieiri Shoko isn’t at all surprised to see you hurriedly scramble onto your seat behind her as you smooth down your skirt and brush down your hair.

“You’re early.” Her voice quietly reaches you, low and clearly unimpressed that you left her bored out of her mind for nearly an hour.

(Seriously, how could you leave her here all alone in this lame auditorium?)

“Sorry Shoko, I overslept…” You’re sheepish as your hands are together in apology, meeting the way she stared at you from the corner of her eye as you hear her sigh a whispered acceptance.

“You’re making it up to me later.”

She’s not facing you, not next to you. None of your childhood friends are, actually. Because they were seated in chairs situated at the very front of the crowd. Seats with a little bit more meaning compared to the ones behind them, a little bit more special.

(Suguru told you they were for financial sponsors of the school or strong academic achievers—)

“And of course your top scorers for the national examinations are as follows,” Another clear of his throat as he fixes his tie, the projector flashing names upon the screen.

Gojo Satoru (Who would’ve guessed?)

Geto Suguru (Of course.)

Saeki Shi—

“Let’s not forget that while your schoolmates have done very well, comparison is the thief of joy. You are all well-versed in your own talents.” Another genteel smile as the mic picks up his voice once more, his bald head reflecting the light within the hall as your principal addresses your cohort for the last time.

“I am very proud of all of you, and having the honour of being your principal as been a great joy.”

“Congratulations on your graduation!”

Maybe the cheers can’t drive away this bittersweet feeling, maybe the way the applause of the students can’t get rid of the way nostalgia was starting to course through you.

Because, is it really over? Just like that? Isn’t it a little too fast, a little too quick? You’ll miss studying in the school library, you’ll miss having lunch on the rooftop, you’ll miss looking at the principal’s shiny, bald head.

You think you’ll definitely miss middle school.

——

You lean against the wall, quietly watching as student after student stream out of the hall, past the recently renovated doorway and its fresh coat of paint as you wait— And wait even more.

Official sponsors and academic award recipients did have to stay back for a bit, after all. To collect shiny badges and gratitude-filled letters from the school board before they took a shiny picture to commemorate them.

(Of course. Your friends always were special.

“Wow. Must take a lot for a Gojo like yourself to appear.” It’s deadpan, just as unimpressed as ever before as you hear footsteps approaching your solitary seat.

“Why? An Ieiri like yourself not satisfied with my presence?” Haughty, and obviously not thrilled at her lazy smile and still eyes. “I thought you’d skip out.”

“Did you?” Playful, dismissive and mysterious. Your Ieiri Shoko really has a talent for getting on your snowy-haired friend’s nerves as his eye twitches and he crosses his arms.

“Oi, Suguru. Tell ‘er that I’m not buying you guys any more of those cig—“ He pauses. Abruptly. Not because he wanted to, but because the perfect honour student had not gently slapped his hand over his mouth, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave a mark.

Ieiri Shoko sighs.

“It’s not like Suguru needs to tell me.” Her hand tucks a strand of her bangs back, something akin to a smug smirk on her face as she stops before you. “We’re all standing here after-all.”

“…?” You only tilt your head in confusion as you blink. Once, twice. “What does Satoru wanna tell you?”

“I dunno.” A shrug of her shoulders and her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why don’t you finish what you were gonna sa—“

“Shoko wanted Satoru to clean up his dirty room.” Geto Suguru finally cuts in, his hand straining as Gojo Satoru tries to pry it off and his eyes upturned to fit into a smile you’re not familiar with. “It’s gotten so bad that Kimiko-san said she saw mold growing in it.”

(That is… Quite disgusting.)

Another smirk from the auburn-haired girl. “It is, isn’t it Geto? Absolutely~” A flick of her hair back. “Disgusting.”

A muffled, extremely red complaint as Infinity activates enough to push the cursed spirit manipulator back, to force him away enough to finally be able to defend himself as blue eyes hurriedly flicker to you, blushing red and hot tips of his ears.

“It’s not that—!”

“Ahh~ Can’t hear.” Her smile is dismissive as she closes her eyes and turns away. “I can’t hear anything at all~”

(They always have such funny conversations.)

“Suguru, your uniform’s broken.” It’s a sudden observation, a bad habit you have of scanning someone from head to toe. “Did it snag on something?”

“Saya-chan, have you ever received someone’s second button?”

Her dimples show as she laughs at the question, demurely covering her mouth as her eyes crinkle and her hair sways when she throws her head back.

“I haven’t, actually!”

And Gojo Satoru stalks out from behind, grumbling and obviously upset. “(name)! Hurry up and leave that bastard! We’re gonna go eat parfaits and celebrate by ourselves!”

“This bastard already agreed to pay for those damn parfaits, Satoru.” A huff from above you. “Or are you saying you wanna foot the bill this time?”

“I’m not saying no to either of you if I get to eat for free.” Shoko’s input.

“You rich, stingy idiots…” His fingers are tapping against his furrowed brows as the both of them return to their banter, one that you aren’t quite paying much attention to— Not when your most well put together friend is obviously having a ‘put together’ issue.

(You never thought this day would ever come.)

Then… Your fingers glide over your own uniform, sliding and nudging at the button second from the top, the one closest to your heart as you furrow your brows and tear out the thread that held it in place.

(A personal sacrifice to help your friend in need.)

“Then you can have mine.” You gently cup his hand in yours and plop it onto his now open palm. “You still have student council duties left to do, right?”

“I think I have a sewing kit in my bag that my Mama gave me a while back too.” In case of emergencies, in case of a torn skirt or loose button.

What you don’t see, in your help-driven, giddy excitement to finally be able to be the one taking care of Geto Suguru, was how his hand closed tightly over small gift, squeezing and holding it close, holding it well.

(Even if you don’t get it, even if you don’t understand… He’s okay with it.)

“Right.” A tilt of his head and that serene smile you’re becoming a little too used to that stops you momentarily in your happy rambling and mental train. “I’ll treasure it.”

(A little bit of a strange wording from him, but you’ll take it. Acts of heroism make you feel good, after all.)

——

Highschool applications are hard. Hard in the sense that you don’t exactly know where you want to go out of all the options presented to you, don’t know what the uncertain future will be. If you went with this option, would you regret the other?

If you chose a highschool that had fun extracurriculars but ugly uniforms, would you regret it? Do you even want the sailor seifuku? Or is neat looking one with a blazer cooler? Would choosing a school specifically for their uniform be too specific of a choice?

(It shouldn’t be this hard to choose just 1, right?)

Your grades aren’t… Bad. Just average. Maybe a little bit above it? Or maybe a little under. But they aren’t bad bad.

“Good job.” Mama looks absolutely exhausted as she settles in front of you, lighting the candle of the small cake she had baked in celebration of your graduation. “I’m so proud of you, and always will be.”

(That’s all that matters.)

But proudness won’t help you settle on a decision all on your lonesome so you’re seated on your bedroom’s floor, your face twisted in deep thought, pamphlets strewn all over— And Gojo Satoru’s head on your lap as he snores away.

“You should always ask when in doubt! Clearing the fog of uncertainty has always been my go-to, and you’ll be surprised by what you can achieve if—“ A pretty pause to show a prettier smile. Your Saya-chan is absolutely glowing today. “You just ask!”

“Satoru.” You pat at his cheek, only getting a quiet groan and no signs of awakening. You try again, this time poking at his cheek and watching the softness bounce back against your finger as you now start to pout at your sleeping friend.

“…I’ll call Suguru over if you don’t wake up.”

And there you have it, iridescent blues revealed to you much too fast, an angry pout mirroring your own reflected back at you.

“I’m mad at him—“ A much too tired yawn. “So don’t ya dare call ‘im…” He rubs at his eyes, tiredly blinking up at you as he relaxes once more. Onto your lap that had turned into his own personal pillow, of course.

(“What did you even stay up so late for, Satoru?”

You only get his silence, his hesitance to say anything. His shifty eyes make you confused, make you wonder if something bad had happened.

“…was lookin’ at a button.”

“Huh?”)

“Ya still on that—“ He yawns again, using his elbow to support him as he stretches his limbs out, sunglasses haphazardly thrown onto your tatami floors as you hear his muscles pop. “Application thing?”

“I don’t think I ever left it.” You smooth your hand down a particularly thick guidebook, the text staring back at you, undaunted and heavy on your mind.

You haven’t stopped reading ever since he got here, after all.

“I told ya not to worry ‘bout it.” He finally sits up— Only to move next to you and plop his lazy head onto your shoulder as you hear him take in a deep breath, his nose brushing against the skin of your neck as your chin shifts to better adjust to this new position.

“But I still have to choose, Satoru.”

It’s mandatory. Something to decide your fate— Not something you can roll a die for and call it a day.

Maybe you should’ve asked Suguru or Shoko instead… But would you even make it into a school for academically gifted or for the super rich that you’re pretty sure they would apply for?

How are you even certain that they’d pick those—

(“Just ask! And I promise you’ll get your ans—“)

“And didya even find any that you even like?” His voice is low, whispered because of his sleepiness as his arms now hug tight around your waist; as if you were a giant teddy bear for him to hold.

“No.”

“Thought so~”

(Hmph. Satoru can sound so mean sometimes.)

“Did you already pick yours, then?” You abandon the pamphlet to have your hand go up to stroke the fluffiness of white, scratching at his scalp and smoothing down the ends that were sticking up as he hums at your touch.

Cute.

(Mama really was right when she said good looks can make up for bad personalities sometimes. But you’re pretty sure this only applies to people named Gojo Satoru.)

“‘Course.” There’s a certain triumphant smugness about his words this time. “It’s a bit far, though.”

“How far?”

A contemplative hum as you feel his face snuggle into the crook of your neck, his fingers drumming against your waist lightly as he peeks up at you.

“Like Tokyo far.”

(Woah.)

“Wanna come with?”

previous masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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pushingdaisies1 · 9 months ago

Text

Nasty Dog . . . ♡ ↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.

(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)

(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..

Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.

Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.

“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were. "Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand. She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.

It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.

Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.

Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof. She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal. "As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma. "Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours. "Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.

She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."

A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while. "Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course. "All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown. "Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time. "Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day. Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there. You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher. Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand. "Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table. "Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.

"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter. Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.

Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.

She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work. "I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.

"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."

She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning." The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table. "On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.

As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging. One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run. "Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups. You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.

You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.

Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch. Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring. Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying. In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet. "I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off. You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation. "Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.

Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.

You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.

Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet." Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down. He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways. You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later. Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.

You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands. You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.

Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another. "Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next. You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.

Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.

Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.

Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.

It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.

“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”

His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.

The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.

“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”

He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.

“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.

“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.

“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.

He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.

The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.

You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 (im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)

TAGLIST:

@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

Note

Could we please have some angst with mafia Eddie? Maybe it looks like he is paying too much attention to another lady! You mention this to him and he gets angry at your accusations. He doesn’t realise what his actions are doing to you! Not until the other lady makes a move and he realises you were right all along!

"Mr. Munson," Your ears perked at the sound, a purr coming from behind the two of you.

You turned, brows lifting in surprise at the cocktail waitress behind you. It wasn't the too tight dress that upset you. No, it was the look in her eyes. Narrowed with a sultry determination, lips spread in a nearly wolfish smile.

"Back so soon?" She hummed, placing a black napkin down on the table.

Eddie hummed in response, blowing his cigar smoke the other way. She dipped low, bending forward to place his napkin in front of him. Your lips pursed, cheeks heating, glaring at Eddie, who still seemed unbothered, reading over the menu without a single glance up at the desperate waitress.

"Yeah, I think we're ready to order." Eddie muttered, closing the menu to look across the booth at you. He was startled by your hard stare, brows knitting in confusion. "Are you not ready, baby?"

"Yes." You hissed, manicured nails digging into the leather of the menu.

Eddie blinked, scanning your face with uncertainty. "Ok, I want a Manhattan."

"So the usual?" She giggled playfully, lashes batting towards him. "With 1792?"

"Full proof." Eddie nodded, looking at you.

The waitress scribbled it down, turning back to you, face falling, eyes not meeting yours in boredom. "And for you?" Her tone fell flat.

You blinked, pausing to cut your eyes to Eddie. He didn't react, brows pulling in a furrowed look of confusion that had your teeth gritting. "I'll have an Aviation."

"Any preference on gin?" She hummed, eyes sliding over your frame with a bored expression.

"Broker's is fine." You snap the menu closed, tossing it towards Eddie's in the middle of the table.

"You wanted Pâté, right, baby?" Eddie hummed gently towards you. Maybe you were hungry? You got huffy when you hadn't eaten.

The waitress looked over at you with a lifted brow, lips pressed in annoyance. Your own eyes narrowed, in what you hoped looked like a threat and not insecurity.

"We'll just get that. And the shrimp cocktail. Just whatever looks good." Eddie waved her off, knee bouncing gently under the table, eyes still locked on you.

The waitress turned back to Eddie, a smile reappearing to her face. "I'll get that right in for you, Mr. Munson." She purred, turning away with a swinging step.

"Thanks, Tammy." Eddie muttered, leaning forward on the table.

You watched the waitress sashay away, an exaggerated swing in her hips that had you rolling your eyes, ready to tear the girl's hair out.

"What's the matter with you?" Eddie muttered lowly.

You turned towards him, lips pursed in displeasure. "Tammy?" You huff.

Eddie blinked. "The waitress?"

You scoffed, nose turning up in the air, refusing to look at him. Eddie hated when you did that, ignoring him entirely- oh, it drove him insane. Which was exactly why you did it.

"Hey, don't- what's wrong? Why're you mad?" Eddie pressed, reaching for your arm across the table. Thankful this was a private room, he felt a little safer to show affection.

You didn't reply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, yanking your arm away from his instead, crossing them over your chest.

Eddie huffed, flinging his cigar into the tray. He did a scan of the room, sliding out of the booth to slide next to you, back to the door- something he never did. He was nearly neurotic about sitting where he could see who was coming in.

"What's goin' on? Look at me, c'mon." Eddie pulled you towards him, hand snaking around your waist.

His hand snaking under your jaw, pulling you towards him. "Baby," Eddie cooed lowly, a tone of voice he only used in the complete privacy of your relationship, when no one else was around. "What's wrong?"

Your lips twisted, glaring at him. Before you could answer, the swoosh of the door was opening, Eddie's hand on his glock, protectively pushing you behind him, ready for any unwanted action.

Instead, it was Tammy, back with your drinks.

"Oh," She quipped, a smile that felt more like a sneer across her face. "You switched sides on me."

Eddie didn't laugh, didn't even acknowledge her other than a head nod of thanks when she set the drink down. He felt you tense when she leaned forward, breasts nearly touching Eddie's shoulder to place your drink in front of you. Your nails dug into his slacks.

"Let me know whenever you're ready for another, Mr. Munson. Those appetizers should be out soon." Tammy grinned down at Eddie.

Eddie turned to you carefully, waiting until he heard the door click softly behind her. "What's wrong?"

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. Eddie blinked at you, brows creasing in confusion. "Are you going to just fuck her in front of me next?"

"What?" Eddie spat. "Who?"

"Tammy?" You sneered her name.

"The waitress?" Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Are you serious? C'mon."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Eddie. She's all over you." You snap, eyes narrowing at him furiously.

"No, she's not." Eddie blinked at you. "Baby, what are you talking about?"

"You know her name," You counted off on your fingers. "She's all over you, practically had her tits in your face, flirting with you right in front of me-"

"-She is not flirting." Eddie rolled his eyes. "She's just being nice. She knows I leave a good tip."

"Oh, I'm sure she does." You sneer, anger bubbling furiously inside of you.

"Stop acting like this, alright? It's not funny." Eddie shook his head, sliding out the booth to the other side. "She always waits on me here. She's good, and I tip her good, that's all. Don't piss me off sayin' that shit."

You glare at him, eyes narrowed when he sips his drink slowly. You want to smack it out of his hands, maybe throw yours at him- glass and all. Instead, you turn back towards the wall, ignoring him entirely.

The dinner is tense. Eddie's exasperated huffs begging you to look at him, they slowly turn into growling demands. You don't touch your drink, letting the ice melt the vibrant lavender down to a watery lilac. Any hunger is replaced with rage, a fire burning in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie calls for the check after thirty minutes, nerves shot, a dull headache brewing behind his eyes.

"Done already? You usually stay longer than that." Tammy quips in feigned surprise masking her disappointment.

You decide you've had enough, snatching your purse, sliding out of the booth when she leaves to get the check. "I'll meet you outside." You growl.

"Hey," Eddie booms, commanding, stern. It would normally have you stopping in your tracks, falling right into submission. "Get back here."

You ignore him, hand slapping the door to push it open, stomping away with fury. Eddie's teeth grit, fishing out the contents of his jacket pocket- wallet, lighter, cigarette.

Lighting the cigarette, he took a slow drag, letting the burn of the nicotine settle into his throat and lungs. Thumbing through his wallet, he pulled out four big bills, slapping them on the table, sliding out with a huff.

The door swung open as he was adjusting his jacket. "Oh," Tammy giggled sillily, eyes sliding to your empty space. "Here's this for you."

Eddie nodded towards the table. "On there for you. Keep the change." He muttered around the cigarette hanging from his lips, side stepping to get around her.

She blocked him, a countering step to stop him. "I'm sorry, I just, I think you need to look at the bill, Mr. Munson." She gave a wide smile.

Eddie huffed, reaching back for his wallet, blowing smoke the other direction. "How much is it?"

Tammy hesitated, opening the wallet. Eddie's eyes flickered over, turning fully to read the bill. There on the bottom, a phone number scribbled next to 'You're always a pleasure. I'd love to see you more away from here. Call me, Tammy', a tiny heart next to her name.

Eddie blinked, heart dropping in his chest. Tammy shrugged sweetly. "I just want to make sure I can always service you to the best of my abilities, Mr. Munson." She purred, eyes batting seductively.

Eddie blinked again, not moving, ash from his cigarette falling on his shoe. His stomach turned, how harshly he'd talked to you, brushed you off when clearly you were right. How had he missed this? Looked over this?

Love will blind ya, boy. Wayne's voice from years ago rang through his ears. He'd always thought his uncle was dramatic. He was much stronger than that. Maybe that was true, until he met you.

"I get off at two, if you'd like to-" Eddie didn't let her finish her sentence, stomping away and towards the door.

His hands shook in fury, bursting into Anthony's office in the back.

You waited outside, arms wrapped around yourself in the chill of the night. It helped to calm your fury, until Eddie swung the door back open with matching anger. A man scurrying behind him, nervously.

"Eddie- Mr. Munson, I-I am sorry. I will-she's done. She's fired." He stammered.

Your interest piqued, Eddie flicking the cigarette on the ground, jaw set furiously, a hand wrapping around your waist guiding you off the curb towards the Bugatti. He opened the door for you, letting you slip inside before shutting it.

You could hear the muffled shouting from outside, turning to look at Eddie, who jammed a rage filled finger towards the man who flinched.

"We will make it up to you, Mr. Munson, I-I swear it-"

"-You fucking better." Eddie sneered, hand on his door. "You better figure somethin' out, Tony. You hear me?"

Eddie slung the door open, falling with a grunt into his seat. Barely starting the car before he was peeling furiously off the curb.

His apology didn't come until later that night, when you both had calmed. In the dark, serenity of your bedroom, Eddie whispering sweetly to you, cooing apologies that you pouted at, giving in slowly with every soft kiss and even softer words.

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meowpupp · 1 year ago

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i bet poor puppygirl reader is so confused and sad about why price made her defile her special toy without telling her what she did wrong 🥺🥺 could we get a fluffy (pun intended) follow up?

love the pun

part of him feels bad. really bad. price can admit that his normal emotional maturity and forethought was not exercised.

he doesn't think about it at first, throwing out the ruined plush and moving on. it's only when his pup gets all huffy and annoyed that he clicks on.

you give him the cold shoulder, huff and sigh in his presence, sleep on the other side of the bed. after a full two days, he connects the dots. youre mad about that fucking bear.

he can admit that seeing you so huffy and upset over a plush is funny, but he is your owner, and a good one at that, so he decides to remedy the situation.

his plan takes him a couple hours. he left in the morning, brushing off his outing as running errands. he drives store to store, buying another mr fluffy, as well as a little rabbit and a panda. price drives shop to shop, buying little things he knows you like.

by the time he's home, he's a little hamper for you.

it's filled with your favourite treats, a candle that you like, the three new plushies, and a new chew toy.

he hands you the hamper, this time promising that he won't make you fuck yourself on your new little friends. that night you're back to normal, tucked under his arm as you watch a show with him, fed and happy as you chew on your new toy and hold your brand-new fluffy friends close.

#mw2 x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #gn reader #captain price #price #price x chubby!puppygirl

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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Could you do some headcanons of a Mc reader dating the BB League Elite 4 + Kieran but miraidon gets super jealous.

It gets to the point where they get out of their Pokeball to growl á them.

Amarys

While she isn't too good at expressing emotions herself, she can read the emotions of others quite well.

Apparently this extends to Pokémon, especially after she notices your Miraidon acting rather irate around her. It even got to the point where they kept bursting from their pokeball to growl at her whenever you're together.

"It seems your Agias has suddenly grown a dislike for me, [y/n]." She remarked one day. "But I cannot figure out why..have I done something to upset them recently?"

"Nothing that I know of. Although I think it's worth mentioning that they're actually called Miraidon, not Agias."

"..is that so? Then I will correct this error right away."

Both of you think that after she apologizes, the problem would be resolved...yet it continues, with Miraidon always budging into your conversations, trying to get you on their back and fly/drive off without warning, etc.

All of this happens despite there being no danger present.

Eventually, you chalk up their protective nature to one probable cause: Jealousy.

You were spending more time with Amarys, and perhaps that made your futuristic companion worried you'll spend less with them.

When you brought this up to your gf, she's surprised and isn't too sure how to resolve this..

Considering she's new to relationships, she didn't expect a Pokémon of all things to become so jealous of her.

You end up suggesting that the two bonded (outside of timed flying trials of course) so that they could learn to trust her more.

Despite lacking emotional depth, she still tries her best, knowing this would greatly benefit all three of you in the long run if you were going to continue dating.

Crispin

"Hey uh..your Pokémon is giving me a funny look again.....w-was the sandwich too spicy for them? I can always turn down the heat."

He's straight-up convinced that Miraidon is mad at him because he's making their sandwich the wrong way.

So he keeps changing up the ingredients, hoping to satisfy them (yet it doesn't help when they keep popping out of the pokeball and scaring him).

You've figured out ages ago that they were simply jealous of how much time you were spending with your new bf.

Alas, you're dating a chef who's not only a hothead, but an airhead as well.

"Do you think your Miraidon and Magmortar got into an argument? Because they keep staring at him like they wanna rip him apart..haha.."

"No, honey..it's you, not your Pokémon."

"....ohhh so you're saying I got into an argument with Miraidon! Yeah that makes sense..I did sorta lose my cool with them the other day..."

Sometimes you wonder if a bonk from that frying pan of his would help knock some sense into him....

Instead, though, you just have him sit down in the club room while you explain Miraidon's jealousy in detail.

Crispin finally understands and immediately feels bad (and a little dumb knowing it took him this long to realize it). He's rushing to apologize to your companion, promising to make them the best sandwich possible--hot or not.

He still gets nervous about kissing you/holding your hand when they're nearby, often feeling the need to hide behind the pan.

But you reassure him it's okay.

Drayton

Tbh he kinda relishes in the huffy demeanor your Miraidon has been displaying in recent days.

The way they gnash their teeth, circle around him, make sparks fly, hover over you, and light up their eyes as though preparing to use Electro Drift...

Yep, despite how flashy and futuristic they are...all Drayton sees is another dragon type Pokémon who's throwing temper tantrums.

And being such chill guy around dragons, he has no fear and instead teases them behind your back, getting them riled up.

"Oh c'mon. You don't scare me. I know you've been looking out for [y/n]...and watching them hang out with Kingdra and Archaludon-"

"Agiiaaassss.."

"...there it is." He laughs. "Look, I'm not "stealing" them from ya. So let's just try to get along for their sake, alright?"

"......"

"Right. I knew we'd come to an understandin'."

Somehow, the two are VERY good at hiding this little grudge from you, although you have noticed Miraidon being more protective than usual over you whenever Drayton's around.

But it boils over when they saw you shining his Archaludon's armor while on a picnic date, throwing a fit and almost having a fullblown battle with each other without either of you at the helm.

Luckily, all the other dragons on your team diffused the situation...

You're a little bit outraged (pun not intended) that Drayton never told you of Miraidon's jealousy issues--and that he was taunting them for it.

"C'mon, they know I'm only kidding around."

"...our Pokémon almost broke the damn table."

"I'll pay for the damages."

"I think you're missing the point here, babe.."

Lacey

From the moment she started showing you around the school...she wondered why Miraidon was acting weird.

Her first thought was that they could sense her being a fairy type trainer, but she isn't sure what to do about that, so she keeps quiet.

But after you two started dating, they grew more protective of you and jealous of her..and it's something she notices waaaay before you do.

After it gets to the point of them jumping out of their pokeball to scare her (and quickly go back in without you seeing them), her nerves were shot.

Even so, she doesn't want you to worry. So she keeps trying to be friendly towards them, but it's hard.

Doesn't help that Granbull is being quite sassy towards the electric/dragon type, too, growing just as protective over Lacey as they are over you.

And ofc she has to quell their argument before things turn ugly...and one day, it almost did.

"I'm sorry, but this is NOT right!" She crosses her arms, standing between the two Pokémon. "Granbull, I know you're better than this. And Miraidon, I know you don't trust me, but you need to-"

"What's going on, Lace?"

"!!!"

You were gone for all but two minutes, and you come back to your poor gf trying to stop a Pokémon battle from taking place.

Finally, she admits that Miraidon has been acting extremely jealous and it's made her nervous.

You feel terrible for not realizing this sooner, and promise to speak to your companion about it.

Least to say..you wind up coddling them and giving them treats, reassuring them you'll still pay attention to them--but they had to be nice to Lacey and not antagonize her fairies.

Reluctantly, they agree on the condition of getting a sandwich everyday.

Kieran

Considering Miraidon saved his life, it was definitely strange when that same Pokémon now seemingly hated his guts..

This all happened the moment you and him starting dating, with them popping out of the pokeball (and not because he mentioned sandwiches) and growling before you could share your first kiss.

It was embarrassing for Kieran, and he doesn't know how to earn their trust back.

He just muddles over the fact that he was...definitely less-than-kind to you, their trainer, back before the trip to Area Zero.

He said things to you that he didn't mean, things he regretted saying..and suddenly he wonders if Miraidon could have possibly heard all of that.

If they could hear you both discussing sandwiches, then surely....

It genuinely starts to stress him out, as he's trying so hard to make amends with everyone and not be hated anymore.

And yet he seemed to be forgiven by all...except for Miraidon.

Maybe they even regret saving him

You notice that your bf is starting to cower behind you at their presence, being scared to look them in the eye, etc.

Eventually, you get him to confess that he thinks your companion despises him, and the guilt resurfaces enough to make him cry, kneeling and pleading for their forgiveness.

But you comfort and reassure him that Miraidon's only jealous of you two spending so much time together.

"R-Really? That's all it was...?"

"Yep. I already gave them a stern talking to." You help him stand up. "I'm sorry they keep coming off as aggressive. They just gotta warm up to you a little more, that's all."

"So they don't..hate me?"

"Nope."

After that, Kieran tries his best to earn the dragon type's respect, becoming a bit braver with each interaction.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon crispin #pokemon lacey #pokemon drayton #pokemon amarys #miraidon #headcanons

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