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wriokitty · 1 day ago

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like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE.

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot.

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it.

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often.

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him.

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow.

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that.

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TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings.

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head.

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly.

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should.

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends.

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude.

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents.

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings.

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it.

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause.

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down.

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad.

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion.

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?”

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too.

Something that kills his mood for the week.

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you.

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TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed.

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his.

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way.

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else.

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother.

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him.

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up.

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see.

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue.

It’s just the kind of guy that he is.

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps.

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock.

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not.

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave.

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to.

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement.

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment.

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial.

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—”

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk.

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow.

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too.

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

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TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were.

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache.

Alone.

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact.

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other.

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had.

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always.

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can.

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense.

Saturday happens to be your day off, too.

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit.

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time.

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs.

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it.

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you.

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them.

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin.

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you.

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you.

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself.

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place.

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss.

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble.

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself.

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours.

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls.

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, ropes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless.

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his weight over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same.

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff.

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart.

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you.

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause.

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter:

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace. Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus. Forever yours, Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

#—rivistyping!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 days ago

Note

please you can’t mix a/b/o and LaDS. i’ll actually keel over and die.

i can’t stop thinking about it ….

cw for dubcon kinda and rough sex. fem reader. psuedocest (gege. once shfjsjfj)

caleb in a rut. he grew up pretending to be a beta for your sake, taking as much suppressant medication and as many scent blockers as possible to make sure it was concealed. he wanted you to feel safe, to feel more at ease to the point he suppressed his own body completely

and then everything happens between you and caleb strictly forbids you entering his apartment during his rut. you don’t know it at the time, but they’re still permanently irregular from the whole soup of medications he took during his adolescence. so he has these crazy ruts like once or twice a year where he’s completely not himself.

you only found out he was an alpha recently, as in when he came back as a memeber of the fleet. but you’re partners now, you’re supposed to be equals so you want to help him thru his rut

caleb vehemently rejects you. of course he does. he’s not himself and he never wants to do something you do like.

but you’re stubborn and don’t listen so you go over to his apartment anyway. his scent is so thick it permeates from behind the front door of his place. when he answers it after your persistent yelling - he opens the door and it immediately assaults your senses. he’s shirtless, sweaty, pupils completely dilated. his voice is shot.

“go home. now”

he turns you away at the door. you get in each others face until you finally step on the right nerve and caleb yanks you inside and locks you in. cages your body against his front door with this terrifying look in his eyes, his hand gripping your jaw and making you look up at him “so fucking stubborn,”

you underestimate him when he says it’s bad. you dont realize how bad it is until you’re getting fucked over every surface of the house with little to no prep other that the left over, sticky spit from him trying to lick you open. he takes you first right by the door, your pants barely to your knees while your face is against the floor.

“wish you’d be a good girl and listen but you never do. maybe it’ll be a good lesson for you. remember it carefully”

caleb is always so gentle, so careful and kind but he’s forcing your pussy open like it’s nothing. splitting you on his cock as you cry. and he fucks you so deeply and so intense right from the jump, doesn’t ease you into it at all. he takes you on the floor before he helps you up and bends you over the kitchen counter, the back of the couch, pressed into missionary on the coffee table in his living room, on all fours on the stairs.

he’s being mean about it too. every time your pussy tightens up or clenches around him when he smacks it lightly or when he tortures your clit - he has this laugh that borders on callous. loving but humiliating at the same time

“no matter how much i stretch you open it feels like you’re trying to snap my dick off. do you want it so bad, hm?”

he’s merciless. he’s not himself. he makes sure you don’t hurt yourself when repositioning but you’re so full of cum and so sore you can barely move without limping. covered in these deep bite marks as he just goes again and again. mating like you’re animals until he comes out the haze

“how much cum do you think you have in here?” as he smacks your hip. “stay upright. don’t let it spill okay? since gege was so kind and gave it to you.”

he has moments of sobriety. you can always tell bc he becomes worried and affectionate- lapping at your wounds like an oversized dog. but it’s shortlived. the cycle starts again and your pussys wrapped around him like a sleeve for him to fuck.

you don’t get away from him for three days. it feels like your cunt is gonna stay stretched forever and caleb looks so sad and apologetic after. like a kicked dog

and as crazy as he is during - it’s also kind of . nice to feel how deeply he really desires you. the things he says during his ruts are demeaning but still somehow so lovesick and you kind of like seeing him let loose.

#return to sender #omegaverse cw #a.caleb #dubcon cw #pseudocest cw #CANT REAS THIS BACK SORRY IF ITS NONSENSE

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swytdoll · 2 days ago

Text

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 days ago

Text

40-22

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: You and your husband watch the Super Bowl along with your best friends in NOLA

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Seeing as Joe was doing a press run the week leading up to the Super Bowl in New Orleans, you decided that the two of you should have a party for it at your new house that Joe had surprised you with as a Christmas gift. A party that would literally only be your best friends, but still a party nonetheless. He had noticed that you were missing being in Louisiana more than usual and it had actually been in the works for him to buy it since the beginning of last year.

In order to get your input without actually telling you about it, he would show you different pictures that the designer was sending Joe and as soon as you had given him the approval, everything was a go.

This was your first time actually seeing the house in person and you immediately fell in love. There was a hallway leading to what would be considered the man cave of the house and the walls were decorated with pictures of both you and Joe at your time at LSU. Seeing this definitely made a few tears slip out that you of course blamed on your hormones being all over the place.

Ja'Marr and Justin of course wanted to see the house and essentially invited themselves over, even though they were going to be invited anyway. You had sent a quick text to Erin and Alisha to see if they were free and they of course said yes to be able to spend time with you.

Joe told you that he could order food so that the two of you didn't have to cook and he didn't want you to be on your feet for a long period of time.

Of course he was met with resistance from you since cooking was one of your many love languages the last thing he wanted was an argument to come out of it. He knew once you made up your mind about something that it was the end of the conversation. But if it was something that he was dead set on not letting go, he had no problem letting you know how he felt. But for now, he would just help you with what you decided to make and make sure you got breaks in between.

As you were making your famous chili cheese dip that you knew was going to go in less than ten minutes, Joe had just finished seasoning the wings and was about to put them in the oven.

He had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

“You okay? And are my other two babies okay?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“Yes, babe. I told you that I'm fine. And they're fine too.” You replied and gave him a small smile before he gently moved you to the side to open the oven.

“As soon as we're done, you need to sit down and put your feet up so they don't swell.”

“Yes, Doctor Burrow.”

“Princess, I'm serious.”

“I know, I know and I promise I will. Just have one more thing to make and then I'll sit.” You replied as you reached up to kiss him.

“What else do you need help with so I can make this go faster?”

“They’re just cheesesteak sliders, but if you can start cutting up everything that would be helpful.”

“On it.”

When all of the food was done, Justin was already in the kitchen so you told him to come and get his plate so that way you could sit down yourself.

“Justin, it’s hot on the bottom, take the sides of it.” You told him as he was reaching for it.

“Uh huh.” He replied as he was still looking at the television and not at you.

“Don't touch the bottom. It's hot, move your hand away from it.”

Justin once again nodded and you decided since he wasn’t going to listen to just let him learn the hard way.

“Ow! DAMN, THAT’S HOT.”

“I know and I told your stupid ass two times not to touch the bottom, but you were so interested in looking at the TV instead. And you better not break my damn plate either.”

“Joe! Your wife was nicer before you got her pregnant!” Justin yelled towards him and Joe looked at him confused.

“Says who!?” Ja’Marr asked as he immediately chimed in and you gave them both a death glare.

“No, Justin, you just like to do stupid shit.” Joe shot back and Ja'Marr stifled a laugh.

“Next time I'm not cooking shit for yall. I can't even see my damn feet and they're probably swollen and I'm stressed because I'll have to probably call 911 messing with both of you. Justin, take this plate and get out my face. IMMEDIATELY.”

“But we didn't ask you to cook since I…”

“Ja’Marr keep talking and I'm going to make sure the next time I cook for you will be at your funeral.”

Ja’Marr immediately threw his hands up in defense as you went to sit down while everyone fixed their plate.

“Damn that food is about to be good as shit. Baby, can I request meatballs?” Joe asked you and you stifled a laugh.

“SERIOUSLY?” Ja’Marr asked Joe as he shrugged.

“No, Joe you got it backwards. It's funeral chicken and baby shower meatballs.” Erin told him while laughing and Ja’Marr made a face at her.

“Not you encouraging his nonsense….”

“Well Erin come through with the meatballs for our baby shower.” Joe told her and she quickly agreed.

“All you had to do was say the word. Consider it done.”

“So, no one is going to mention how my twin is planning my funeral?” Ja’Marr asked the entire room and everyone gave him a blank stare.

“No.” Everyone replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“She’s older and she's pregnant? Yeah, not getting into that one.”

“Some friends yall are.”

The game was just starting and Joe told you to sit down while he fixed your plate for you. He made sure you were comfortable with your multiple pregnancy pillows and put your feet up for you.

“The Eagles have one damn job and if they don't come through, I will RIOT.” Alisha said as she sat to the left of you while Erin was on your right.

“You and me both.” You told her as you turned up the volume.

It was during the second quarter when you suddenly got bored. The Chiefs were playing like they had never seen a football before in their lives and you honestly couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Are they really serious right now?” Justin said out loud and in disbelief.

“Apparently they are.”

“I told yall that they aren't as good as everyone thinks they are. Because they are playing like straight ass.” Alisha added and everyone couldn't help but to laugh.

“Jalen is cute.” Erin said and you gave her a small smirk.

“AHT! Princess, wipe that smirk off your face!” Joe said and you held your hands up in defense.

“But I…”

“Nope, don't even try it. I saw it.”

“I only have eyes for you and you know that! Last time I checked I am pregnant with YOUR children."

"Mm hmm. Sure."

"Such a big ass baby." You quietly said, but he still heard you.

"Want to repeat that Mrs. Burrow?"

"Nope, I'm good." You replied while taking a sip of your lemonade while both Erin and Alisha laughed.

“As I was saying before, Joe rudely interrupted. Have you seen the entire team!? It's a TRAIN. And I wouldn't get off until I had a taste of the entire roster.” Alisha exclaimed, and you couldn't help but to laugh.

"Alisha, I heard that." Joe said, and she held her hands up and acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

“You know that there's 52 people on the roster, right?” You asked her and she immediately nodded her head.

“Like I said before, it's a train.”

Joe was on his second plate of food and focused on the game when you decided to send him a text.

Wifey- Baby, I'm bored.

Joey- You don't want to watch the game?

Wifey- Yes, but at this point I want it to be halftime. But in the meantime could you do something for me?

Joey- Of course baby. What do you need?

Wifey- For you to put your dick inside me

As soon as Joe read the text, his eyes went wide and he glanced at you with a smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

Joey- We have seven minutes until halftime

Wifey- I'm not missing Kendrick so we have to do it now

Joey- Go upstairs and I need to teach you a lesson for having a smirk on your face about that quarterback who ISN’T me

Wifey- So dramatic as usual. Just like a Sagittarius. Smh.

Joey- Just you wait until I get you alone

Once you got up, Joe was following your lead and Ja’Marr suddenly made a face at both of you.

“Where yall going?”

"Just going to the bathroom." You told him, but looked at you confused.

"And taking your husband with you?"

"Look Ja’Marr! My whole body is swollen and I can't see past my boobs!" You exclaimed as you crossed your arms and continued walking towards the stars as Joe stifled a laugh.

“Those things are going to be Z cups by the time the twins get here.” Alisha said without hesitation.

"So, you don't know where your vagina is located anymore?"

“Ja'Marr, if your twin wants to get her cheeks clapped by her husband who has clearly done it multiple times before since she's pregnant, that's her business. That's obviously where they're going.” Erin told him and he made a gagging noise.

"Bam Bam, keep talking and I will choke you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

"Unless you're volunteering to wipe my ass, baby brother. By all means, come on.”

“NO! I'm good!”

“That's what I thought and that's why you need to mind your damn business.”

“You're my twin so you are my business.”

By this time, you had reached the top step and rolled your eyes before you responded to him.

“Leave me alone, Ja'Marr!”

“Never going to happen!”

As you entered your bedroom, you were attempting to walk towards the bed before Joe tugged your arm in another direction.

“If I take you on the bed, you know for a fact we'll be up here for the rest of the game and you are entirely too loud. No offense, princess.”

“Hmm, good point. Bathroom it is. And if Ja’Marr would have minded his business we would have been up here sooner! We have like 4 minutes now.”

“Then stop talking and let me take care of my wife.” Joe told you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

As you were coming down the steps, Erin was grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at you and you instantly laughed at her.

“Nasty ass fuckers. Couldn't have even waited until we left.”

“I seriously went to the bathroom, dumbass!” You replied as you took your rightful seat in between your best friends just in time to see Kendrick come on the screen when Alisha leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I know that white boy be turning you every way but loose.”

You tried so hard to keep a straight face but failed miserably as Ja'Marr shot you a look.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You'll never learn, will you?” You asked and he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the TV.

“Probably not. You know I'm nosey.”

“And no lie was told.”

It was now the third quarter when the Chiefs finally decided to score, which clearly still left everyone unimpressed.

“See that's what they asses get for making sure we didn't make it in the playoffs.” Ja’Marr muttered to your husband who quickly agreed with him.

“Look, I'm just happy that I don't have to look at Taylor Swift for four quarters.” Erin confessed with Alisha letting out a laugh.

“And her boyfriend has done absolutely nothing this entire game.” You added before getting up and sitting on Joe's lap.

You sat to the side so that you could put your head on his shoulder and your feet in Ja’Marr's lap who quickly protested.

“Why are these things on me?”

“So they don't swell. Help a pregnant lady out. And besides I fed you and you're in my house. And I just got a pedicure so leave me alone!”

“She has a point.” Joe said and he crossed his arms in response.

“My going rate for babysitting those two when they get here is 50 dollars. EACH.”

“BULLSHIT. We watch baby uno for FREE.” Joe exclaimed in response.

“Because he's a low maintenance baby! Yall kids are about to be spoiled as hell with big ass heads that look like Joe. That last sonogram picture was wild. Count on having a c-section.”

“HEY! MY HEAD IS NOT THAT BIG!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Shiesty.” Justin muttered and it took everything in you not to laugh. You turned away from Joe, but he could feel the vibration of your laugh since you were leaning against him.

“My own wife laughing about jokes about me, I see.”

“Um, pookie… have you seen your baby pictures? It's always been big.” You asked him and he turned up his nose.

“I…forget about that Birkin you wanted for Valentine’s Day.”

“Hold on! Wait! I take it back!”

“Nope. Damage is done. I'm sleeping in the guest room.”

“Okay Mr. Dramatic.”

“AYE! ANOTHER TOUCHDOWN!” Justin exclaimed as he raised his arms in excitement.

“Andy needs to whoop everybody's ass on that field.”

“I think the Eagles got him covered in that department.”

“No 3 peat is happening at this point.”

It was now the final seconds of the fourth quarter and it was now set in stone that the Eagles had won. They were interviewing Jalen when a thought popped up in your head.

"I can not believe they got their ass beat this bad. I feel like a curse has been lifted." Justin said, and you stifled a laugh.

“I expect everyone in this room that has an NFL contract to be in the super bowl next year. Do with that information what you will.” You said and all three of them looked at you.

“If the front office actually gets its shit together so we can keep everyone we need.” Joe said before rolling his eyes.

“Are we going to make bets? I think we should.”

“Sure when the regular season starts, but my husband needs to take me to Disney World after he wins. And Ja’Marr is on babysitting duty.”

“Fine, 250 dollars an hour. EACH.”

"You must be out of your damn mind." Joe told him in response as he looked at him in disbelief while you were laughing.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe shiesty #joey b #nfl imagine

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healedlover · 14 hours ago

Text

EMPTY GAZE ; RUINED WITH LUST

summary: in which the expressionless man finally showed expression during sex pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: nanami is a sex addict and a little perv, oral (m receiving), p in v, make out sesh, dirty talk, clothed sex (f is only wearing her clothes), one night stand a/n: not proof read, first time trying a fic like this haha..spare me..

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

nanami never had a girlfriend.

he was good looking, that wasn’t the problem. it was the fact he was very expressionless during sex, which made women think he was just using them for his own pleasure.

which was half true, nanami never intended on getting a girlfriend and just decided to use every woman to let his steam out.

currently, he was relaxing against a tree, watching the dark gloomy beach reflect upon him. he had no plans for the night, so he decided to just watch the beach to pass some time before going to bed.

minutes passed and he was getting bored by the second, he didnt know what was going on in his head but he needed something to distract himself with.

nanami glanced around the beach, looking for possibly anyone to let off his boredom with and caught someone standing near the waves. before he could walk up to them, he was interrupted with a small tug on his shirt.

“hello?”

nanami turned around and almost passed out at the sight, he mumbled a quick hello before looking up and down at your outfit.

star struck at the way your breasts sit perfectly in your revealing top, the way your hair contrasted perfectly with your outfit, the way the wind made your skirt flow up and down, he wasn't paying attention to a word you were saying.

"--so yeah, you down?"

"sure." nanami answered with no hesitation, actually--he didnt even care what he agreed to, but he needed to fuck you immediately.

"perfect! follow me, handsome." your fingers wrapped around nanami's large, veiny wrists and you dragged him to one of the beach houses nearby.

"why'd you decide to talk to me?"

"my friend recommended you to me, you know her?" you pull up a picture of one of the women nanami had fucked before, but nanami just shrugs and shakes his head.

"mm, dont remember her."

"weird, anyway, I heard you're very good at sex so I was thinking--"

nanami took a few steps in front of you and pressed you against the wall, his lips was inches away from yours. you could feel his hot breath graze against your skin, and in a blink of a second, he captured your lips in a deep kiss.

both tongues intertwined with each other, nanami nor you didnt want to pull away, nanamis fingers slid through your hair as he sunk himself deeper inside your mouth.

"wai--mngh-"

nanami's teeth sink on your bottom lip and he gives it a light tug before pulling away and staring down at you--yet again, with rarely any expression.

you scoffed at his incompetence and then felt the same rough fingers slip under your skirt, nanami's fingers teased the waistband of your panties and slowly pushed them down, leaving them to rest between your thighs.

"you heard I was good at sex...right?" he asked breathlessly, you nod and he slips his fingers out of your hair, wrapping those same fingers around your wrist. nanami placed your hand on his hard-on.

"then make me feel good...can you do that f'me?"

"yes.." you responded breathlessly, he nodded and you fumble the belt of his pants and after a few failed attempts you finally clink it open. you rip the belt off and quickly unzip his pants, letting them flow down his legs.

you pull down his boxers and was met with his searing hard length, staring daggers at you. sighing, you kneel down on your knees and brush your lips against his creamy mushroom tip, your tongue darting on the head as your lips wrap around his aching cock.

you lowered your head deeper and swore you heard a gasp slip out of nanami's lips, you look up at him--still with half his length shoved inside your mouth--and notice him scoffing at you before turning his head away.

"keep going..ngh"

your fingers grabbed onto his thighs and nanami winced at your grip. nanami's fingers grabbed onto your hair and he pushed your head until you took in his full length. holding back a gag, your nails dig in his thighs until it felt like it was bleeding.

"touch yourself." he demanded, you let go of his thighs and bring your fingers to your raging heat, you slip a finger in your cunt and rapidly stroke yourself as you continued to suck off nanami.

nanami kept pushing your head back and forth, back and forth. your throat started to hurt and your eyes were watering like a waterfall. you slip your fingers out of yourself and glare at nanami through your blurred vision.

"'m gonna cu-ughh"

he pulled himself out of you and white beads spurted all over your face, you sigh and plop against the wall as you look up at him with half lidded eyes and nanami's eyebrows furrowed as his fingers rubbed your eyelid to remove his mess written all over your face.

"where's the bedroom?" nanami asked, looking around the room the two of you were isolated in.

"on the left"

nanami nodded and lifted you off of the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. he stood in front of the door and lightly kicked it open with his foot, nanami then carefully made his way to the bed and threw you on it.

he slid his fingers under the waistband of your panties and swiftly removed them, still keeping your skirt and top on. you watch as he lines himself with your wet cunt, which was practically begging to be used already.

his tip made contact with your soaking entrance and he carefully pushed himself inside you.

"did you even cum yet?"

"I dont...mgh...know" you mutter, shutting your eyes, grabbing onto the bed sheet beneath you. you heard nanami let out a quiet 'tsk' before he thrusted himself into you.

"s' tight...fuck.."

you clench around him and he pushed himself deeper inside you. you let out a whine and flutter open your eyes to see nanami's flushed face and his expression filled with lust, the one thing your friend told you was that he showed little to no expression.

but here he was, taking in your tight cunt, while his face looked like he was a virgin having sex for the first time. the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were watering with desire.

you didn't mind this view at all.

nanami glanced down at you, and wrapped his hands on your wrists, pinning them down on the bed. he leaned in closer and left a bunch of kisses all over your face.

his fingers slid under your skirt and his eyes kept darting between your tits bouncing in the same rhythm hes pounding you in, and back at your eyes.

"ugh...'m gonna cumm"

"so am i, baby, so am.. mmph- hold it in, can you do that?"

you nod but your body was rejecting you from holding it in, a needy moan slipped out of your lips while your cum spilled out of your hole, with one final thrust he pulled away and came all over your body. nanami plopped on you, absolutely worn out from the best sex he's probably ever had.

his head nuzzled into your neck and he held onto you for the night.

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

a/n: aftercare happened trust

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami fanfic #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami is so fine #need that #smut

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sheepispink · 3 days ago

Note

okay i’ve been following you on AO3 and accidentally found your tumblr 😭 but i’ve had this idea and i literally can’t get it out of my head so i wanted to request it to you 🧎

jazzsinger!reader (or like a popular singer/actor mayhaps a model 👀) x Simon “Ghost” Riley | okay so imagine reader has been frequently going to a cafe that ghost also goes to, and they kinda just bond because both of them are wearing a mask (or something to cover their face ex. mask and glasses with baseball cap) while barely talking to anyone except to order their drinks (i’m a tea girlie and i love me a good cup of oolong tea 🫡). I just imagine some 6’1 dude in all black next to someone noticeably smaller also wearing black attire staring menacingly at the wall waiting for their drinks. Then after a while they grab their drinks, look at each other, nod, then leaves without uttering a word. Then after a while it turns into a romantic relationship and when introduced to everyone else (the task force) they just lose it cause how does the skull wearing weirdo on their team get a smoking hot partner 🤨

Anyways please take my humble request with a grain of salt

-🫄

i have tried, whether i have succeeded i do not know but i did have a lot of fun with this one so thank you very much for the ask!! Also mind my spelling mistakes, its like way too early rn LOL

You don't know how this even started, or who this man really is besides that you always walk in at the same time each morning and most of the people here are terrified. It’s likely his stature, 6’1 and dressed in all back, though you’re not too different yourself. Working as a singer and occasional model meant fans would be found in the most unlikely places, especially since your recent single blew the charts entirely. After your fans spotted you at your last local grocery store, you’ve had to take your own drastic measures, dressing in practically all black with a mask and a baseball cap just for good measure. So, in one way or another, you two were practically matching as you stood waiting for your drinks. Infact, it occured so often that your drinks would be served together; your hands brush as you pick up your cups until you glance up at each other and give a quick nod before disappearing again.

That was until today, where you walked in to see the man had gotten to the line before you for once, however it was much longer than usual. Still you waited patiently, humming your new song to yourself as the queue slowly moves, albeit very very slowly. Eventually you get fed up, peering round the hunk of a man to see what or who’s holding it up. “Bloody kids.. dont even know what they’re doin’ ”The man grunts out, surprising you as he looks back and you nod, looking forward. Two young teenagers were working, though they looked far too inexperienced especially with their hair not even up around the baked goods nor aprons on. But that wasnt the worst of it— no, they were just sloppy in general, having to remake coffees and not even knowing the measurements for each type. “Guess they have to start somewhere..” You hum, a small sigh leaves you although the man doesnt say anything back, clearly not taking a liking to his coffee being so delayed. Well, you cant exactly blame him.

Finally, you both stand to the side as the kids prepare your drinks, with you occasionally checking your watch considering you have to grab an uber to your producer's house for a quick meeting. You were close, practically growing up together since you went to the same university. Being late would cause problems though, and you tap your foot a little, wondering how hard it is to make a simple oolong tea. “Order 55 and 56!” You both step forward as always, reaching for your drinks until you realise this doesnt look like your oolong tea at all. Peeking at the label, you realise you had accidentally take his, hence ‘Simon’ written on the side.

”Think I took yours Simon.” You’ve got a little bit of a cheeky note to your voice since discovering this information about him, making him roll his eyes. He hands the cup over to you and reaches for his out of your hands. That’s when your brows furrow, realising why you even picked up the wrong one in the first place.

”Hey— this isnt even your drink. It’s a latte.” You hold it up to him and he peeks through the lid, eyes narrowing beneath his balaclava but settling again. “It’s fine—“

”No it’s not.”

Before he can try and stop you, you’ve already walked up to the counter and facing the lazy teenager there who had been mid-call with her friend. “He asked for a black coffee, not this.” You narrow your eyes at her, annoyed by her clear incompetence especially as she didnt seem to care at all that she was supposed to be working. “It’s just a bit of milk; he wont die.” She shrugs, only making you all the more annoyed as you pull down your mask. “Make a new one, now. Do you even know how many people would beg for a job of yours?”

The teenager is more shook by the fact you’re the jazz singer that she’s been a die hard fan of for the past year and she just embarrassed herself in front of you by acting like an idiot. “I- i’m so sorry! I’ll make it now!” She scurries off to make it, and you feel the presence of the soldier behind you again, glancing down at you.

“Didnt know you had a pretty face hiding beneath all tha’ ” He hums, noticing how your cheeks flush just a tad before you pull the mask back up.“Thanks, you didn't have to.”

You can only shrug, letting your hands fall from their stance on your hips. “It was nothing.. you’re right, they’re stupid kids.” He chuckles, watching the girl scurry quickly over and hand him the drink as she profusely apologises to you over and over.

The two of you leave the store, with you groaning as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Damnit..” He raises a brow towards you, his mask crinkling slightly as you take your phone out, pulling up the uber app. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, lifting his mask a tad to sip the coffee before lowering it again. “I won't be able to come back to this coffee shop anymore..”

”Oh? Too many fans?” Surprisingly his voice has a teasing lilt to it, making you look up at him with wide eyes before hiding your gaze again. “Yeah.. not that i’m not grateful but it can be tiring.”

”C’mon, i’ll give you a ride, that uber will take forever.”

He takes your number after he drops you off at your friend's house, leaving you with radio silence. Then, the next morning he sends an address, more specifically a coffee shop that he particularly likes and where you can start anew until the fans die down. Sometimes he’ll give you a ride after and he’ll even text when you’re late for your coffee run. It shifts into regular texts, longer conversations, brushing hands as you wait for your drinks he paid for, still with that same menacing stare. On an off chance he may just annoy you just a tad, leaning his arm on your head as you look up at him in horror before giving him a faux punch. “I’m not that short!”

Somehow, you end up meeting his task force, your hand held tightly in his. “T-this is your partner?” Gaz’s jaw is dropped just as much as Soap’s is, only Price chuckling at the whole situation. None of them had ever believed that Ghost would get a bird, especially not one as pretty as you are. “Hi everyone.”

You grin, finally pulling down your baseball cap and Soap nearly topples over right there and then. Gaz has his gaze flicking between you two, from Simon’s sharp eyes and black out to your bright face and sweet grin. “ What..?? When..?? How?!”

They drag you over to the couch promptly after, forcing you to tell them all about how you two met and if Ghost really is a softie after all. Meanwhile, Price pats Ghost on the shoulder, the stiff man still tense since he thought this whole meeting wouldnt go too well. “You know they wont let this go, right?”

“..I know.” Simon huffs, but he’s grinning behind the mask.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #cod fluff #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #ghost x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty drabble

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steveseddie · 1 day ago

Text

pencil me in

written for the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event | prompt: heart | rating: t | wc: 1,5k | tags: pre relationship, misunderstandings, dramatic eddie

read on ao3

Eddie arrives at Steve’s house with a mission– he’s finally going to ask him out on a date. A Valentine’s Day date where he’ll romance the hell out of Steve.

If he says yes, that is.

Eddie has his doubts, of course he does, but he also has reasons to believe this might work out. Reasons to believe that Steve might like him back.

Those are what gets Eddie to the front door where he rings the doorbell before whatever doubts he has make him turn around and leave.

His resolve falters slightly when Steve opens the door, dressed in sleeping clothes but somehow still looking as beautiful as ever. But he bounces right back when he notices that the shirt Steve is wearing is his Black Sabbath shirt. Little things like these are what make Eddie think he might actually score a date today.

“Eddie, hey.” Steve flashes him that lopsided grin that Eddie thinks he saves just for him. Another one of those little things.

Eddie waves, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hi, Stevie.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Steve says, pushing his hair back. A stubborn strand of hair falls back over his forehead, making him huff in annoyance. “We– we didn’t have plans, did we?”

Eddie tsks. “I’m offended you think you could forget you and I had plans. Do you care so little about me?” He asks, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

Steve’s eyes dart to his lips for a split second before he rolls them. “Okay, drama queen,” he says, fondness lacing his tone. “Do you wanna come in or not? I was just about to have coffee.”

“Well, when you offer so nicely,” he teases, patting Steve’s cheek as he steps into the house.

He follows him to the kitchen and watches as he pours coffee in two mugs. The whole time Eddie is nervously playing with his rings, thinking about what he’s here to do.

He stops only when Steve hands him one of the mugs. “There you go. There’s milk in the fridge and I already added two spoonfuls of sugar.”

Eddie can’t help but melt like he does every time Steve remembers details about him– the way he likes his coffee, that he hates pickles, that strawberry is his favorite milkshake. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, walking to the fridge while Steve takes a sip from his own coffee. Black, like a heathen.

See? Eddie remembers things about Steve too. Then again, he’s also in love with the guy.

Time to do something about that, Eddie thinks.

“So, uh, Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, trying to steer the conversation where he wants it.

Steve leans back against the counter. “Mhm,” he hums into his coffee. “Are you going door to door telling people Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic holiday and an excuse for companies to make more money?”

Eddie clutches his chest. “Harrington, did you actually pay attention to my rants back in school?”

Steve chokes on his coffee, a slight pink tinge shading his cheeks. “N–No, I mean, I might’ve heard some of it, you’re loud, man. ‘S not like I had a choice.”

“Sure, Stevie,” Eddie says, shooting him a dimpled grin. “Anyway, no, I didn’t come here to lecture you about holidays being capitalist days of overconsumption.”

Steve tilts his head. “Why did you come here then?”

Eddie’s stomach churns as he realizes this is it. His fingers tighten around his coffee and he remembers he didn’t grab the milk. He thinks that something to do while asking Steve out might make things a little easier.

“Yeah, so I was thinking–” he starts, reaching for the fridge door, but the rest of the words die in his throat when he notices something on it.

See, like the Mother Hen that he is, Steve keeps a calendar on his fridge where he writes down everything from work shifts and doctor’s appointments to after-school pick-ups and group movie nights.

The first time Eddie saw the calendar, he wanted to call Steve a dork and tease him for having to keep track of his kids like that. But when he saw his name there, something warm bubbled up in his chest at the reminder that he was part of the group, of their lives, of Steve’s life. That they didn’t drop him as soon as the Upside Down was defeated. And just like that, making fun of Steve didn’t seem so important anymore.

Now, several months later, Eddie’s name is all over the calendar, but this time, that’s not what shuts him up.

No, it’s the word date written on the tiny square for February 14th, and the heart drawn around it.

Of course Steve has plans for Valentine’s Day. Of course it’s too late for Eddie to ask him out.

Of fucking course the moment he finally decides to make a move on Steve, he’s already got himself a date with someone else.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, snapping Eddie out of his spiral. He tears his eyes from that damn heart and glances at Steve, who’s waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

To finish asking him out. Except, he can’t do that anymore.

“I– I have to go,” he says instead, leaving his untouched coffee on the counter and backing away.

“What?”

“Yeah, I forgot I– I have to help Wayne with– uh, something.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “Eddie–”

“Thanks for– for the coffee,” Eddie stammers out.

Steve huffs. “You didn’t even drink it.”

He takes two steps towards Eddie, who takes two steps back. “Sorry, I– I have to go.”

“Weren’t you gonna ask something about Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks when Eddie pivots and heads towards the door.

“Nope! Bye, Steve. Have fun with your date!”

“My– date?” Steve’s voice is laced with confusion. “Eddie, wait!”

Eddie doesn’t want to. He wants to leave, but Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him to an abrupt stop.

He still won’t meet Steve’s eyes, though. At least not until Steve gives him no other choice by cupping his cheeks and forcing Eddie to look at him. He can’t help the way his stomach flutters at the touch and how close their faces are like this, and he has to remind himself that Steve has a date. This doesn’t mean anything.

“Why did you really come here, Eds?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Steve huffs, his thumb brushing over Eddie’s cheek. “Because for a moment it seemed like you were here to ask me out on a Valentine’s Day date.”

Eddie groans, averting his gaze. “Steve, I said it doesn’t matter now–”

“Yes, it does!” Steve repeats, his arms falling to his sides in frustration.

Yeah, well. Eddie is frustrated too, damn it.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t because you already have a date!”

“Says who?”

“Your calendar, Steve!” He snaps. “The heart? The date you’ve got scheduled for Friday?”

“Yeah,” he says, “with you!”

What?

Eddie blinks. “But– you haven’t asked me.”

“I was going to,” Steve says softly. “But then you beat me to it.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, his heart picking up speed. Steve was going to ask him out. Holy shit.

“Yeah. So, are you gonna finish what you started or should I?” Steve says, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a tiny smirk.

This time, Eddie doesn’t hesitate, his doubts gone now. “Stevie, do you want to go on a date with me on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, Eds, I do,” he says, his smirk turning into that lopsided grin he saves just for Eddie.

He only gets a glimpse of that grin before Steve swoops in and presses their lips together, softly at first. When Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat and grabs a hold of his own Black Sabbath shirt to pull Steve closer, he kisses him harder, his tongue darting out and swiping along Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie parts his lips, letting him in. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and stumbles back a few steps until his back hits the fridge, knocking a couple of magnets to the floor.

At the sound, Steve pulls back, his eyes focusing on something next to Eddie’s head as his lips twitch upwards. Before Eddie can ask what he’s looking at, Steve grabs the marker stuck to the fridge and writes something on the calendar.

Curious, Eddie turns his head. Now where they used to say just date Steve added something else.

Date with Eddie.

That same warm and fluttery feeling from the first time he saw his name there comes back, only tenfold. And so does the need to tease Steve.

“Can’t believe you had our date scheduled even before you asked me,” he says with a shake of his head. “That’s pretentious of you, sweetheart.”

Steve shrugs. “I was right, wasn’t it?” He says, grinning smugly.

With a laugh, Eddie agrees. “Damn right, you were,” he says, pulling Steve in for another kiss.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingokiss #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes #hello i have three fics left to write before saturday for this mini event can i do it? maybe

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moody-alcoholic · 2 days ago

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Sub Ala Angeli

part 2 - As Above, So Below

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic. Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: Hurt/comfort, angst, descriptions of wound, mentions of blood, suicidal ideation, religious stuff, mentions of homophobia.

Enjoy <3

Before you get to your feet properly Simon comes over with a blanket. You remember you’re naked, you feel another emotion; embarrassment. You feel your face getting warm as you let Johnny help you to your feet. You wobble, flexing your wing to balance yourself. Johnny’s hand wraps round your waist steadying you.

He takes the blanket in the other hand and holds it up for you. You take it bringing it up to your chest. You still feel exposed. Johnny helps you walk through the house into another room. The place is beautiful, old fashioned and spacious with a big dining table. The sun is flooding through the windows making the whole place look warm and inviting.

Simon pulls a chair out and you sit down gripping the blanket and pull it up over your chest. Johnny goes into the kitchen and you watch Simon as he sits down. Your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t know what to say or what to do.

“Here.” Johnny says as he puts down a glass of water and a plate of something. It smells good, but you’re not sure what it is. You’ve never eaten human food before.

“Thank you.” You say Johnny smiles at you, he has a nice smile, he has such a warming presence about him.

“So, what happened to your wing?” He asks after a few seconds.

“Exile.” You say, you’re not sure how much detail you want to go into.

“From heaven?” He asks. You nod, your back hurts, you can feel it now the pain were your wing used to be. It’s a dull throbbing pain, you miss it, you miss heaven. You feel tears fall down your face, you reach up to touch them.

“Does it hurt?” Johnny asks you. You swallow, you don’t want to be a burden, you don’t want to be a problem. You nod anyway. He stands up and goes back into the kitchen behind you. You look back up at the other man Simon, he doesn’t say much, his eyes are always watching you though. He has brown eyes, dark eyes.

“It’s all we have but it might help.” He says putting 2 little white things down on the table, you look up at him confused. He smiles at you and moves the glass of water over.

“Paracetamol, pain relief, just swallow them with some water.” You pick them up looking at them in the palm of your hand.

“There’s no pain in heaven.” You say, you put them in your mouth and take a few sips of water. You’re not sure if you're doing it right but you feel them slide down your throat. You look at the plate of food, brown triangles with something on top of them. It smells nice and it makes your mouth water.

“Toast.” Johnny says, you look back up at him. “You don’t have to eat it.”

“I’ve never had food before.” You say.

“I guess there’s not really that much in heaven.” Simon says. It’s the first time you’ve really heard him speak, his voice is different from Johnnys.

“There shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” Simon shifts as Johnny talks. You smile at him, the words are familiar, like a comfort to your ears.

“You don’t have to eat the toast.” Simon repeats. You nod, swallowing the lump that's formed in your throat. You don’t think you could eat anything anyway. The rumbling in your stomach feels weird, you’re not sure it’s hunger now.

“How about a shower and some more rest. You look like you could use it.” You grip the blanket, a shiver runs up your body. You look over at your wing, it’s dirty, blood and mud splattered all over it, you feel stiff.

“Okay,” you say looking back at them.

“C’mon, I’ll show you how to use the shower.” You get up following him out back towards the bedroom but he leads you into another room. He goes over pulling the blinds down, you look round the room, there’s a large mirror over the sink. He moves over to start the shower, you hear it run as you turn to look at your back in the mirror.

When you see the bandage your heart sinks, you can’t stop the feeling, more tears run down your cheek. The bandages are almost as white as your wings. It feels wrong, you’ve lost a limb, more than a limb, your wing. The thing that makes you an angel. You reach round to feel the bandage bracing yourself on the sink.

“Let me help.” Johnny says coming over to you, he looks sad, but his expression is soft, his hands stretched out. You nod and he moves over to start taking your bandages off. You don’t think you will be able to look at it, face the wound on your skin. As the layers of bandages get removed it makes you feel something new, worse than sadness, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before.

You don’t care about getting back into heaven, you don’t care about anything you don’t want to be here. As the wound is revealed you feel sick, a sob leaves your throat and you look away. It’s still bright red, nothing left but a stump where your wing used to be and the jagged mark of the Hellhounds teeth.

You look back again, more tears come and you drop the blanket. Johnny’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. Why is he saying that he doesn’t have to be sorry. It’s not his fault, it’s your fault. Maybe if he knew what you did he might never want to see you again. Your hand grips the sink, your knuckles turning white, you let out another sob, falling to your knees and putting your face in your hands.

You can’t stop the crying now, you feel arms come around you. Johnny bends on the floor next to you, you hear the door close behind and look up. A warm hand lands on the top of your back. You hear Simon kneel down behind you.

Johnny's thumb comes to brush tears away, you continue to cry, sniffling as your nose gets stuffy.

“H-how. How d-do I-I make it s-stop.” You stutter through the sobs.

“Breathe.” He says. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.” He takes a deep breath to show you. You try to follow, you have to do it a few times before you finally feel a little better. The sobbing turning into little sniffles.

“That's it, good girl.” He smiles his, the whole time Simon has been behind you rubbing your back. His touch is gentle, soft, he’s careful to avoid your wing.

“Let's turn this shower into a bath.” Johnny says, you reach out for him as he moves.

“Stay.” You say, he turns back and smiles at you.

“Not going anywhere.”

“Lean back,” Simon says gently, his hands moving, gripping your shoulders. You turn in his arms, one hand wraps round your lower back, the other reaching round to pull your shoulder against him. Your palms land flat on his chest, you try to pull your wing against you as tight as you can but it hurts.

A groan leaves your throat and you relent letting it go limp completely. It falls to the floor reaching all the way over to Johnny. You sob, you can't even control your good wing. You drop your head against his chest.

“Just relax.” He says rubbing the small of your back. The room starts to heat up as steam builds. It clears your nose and it makes you feel sleepy. You think you had the wrong impression of Simon. He's shy, not like his bubbly companion. His embrace is warm though, his touch is nice.

You hear the tap turn off, Johnny's hand lands on the top of your back. You’re too exhausted to move, everything hurts too much. They should just leave you here, or throw you back out into the forest.

You’re no use to anyone anymore.

They don't leave though. Instead Simon picks you up in his arms. Johnny helps move your wing and you’re lowered down into the warm water. You let out an audible moan leaning forward. Johnny puts your wing in the bath too. It's almost too big, you turn to look at them over your wing.

“Why did you help me?” You ask, your throat feels raw, the words leaving your mouth are quiet.

“What were we going to do?” Johnny says. “Leave you out in the woods to die?” You hang your head, your cheeks feel raw with tears.

“Can I?” Johnny asks, you turn to look at him holding a cloth in his hand. You nod. You didn’t expect them to help, you didn’t expect them to stay even though you asked. He squirts something onto the cloth, it smells nice, fresh and floral.

He starts with your arm, then kneels up to move down to your chest. He moves slowly, always looking at you, checking with you for permission. There are wounds on your chest, cuts, scrapes and bruises. People might look at you and think you were dragged through the forest not dropped from the sky.

When he reaches your shoulders he passes the cloth to Simon. He’s even more gentle, his other hand lays on your back guiding the cloth so you always know where he’s going to touch next. They avoid your good wing like it’s something fragile, like if they touch it they could break it. You reach over to the top picking out a speck of dirt from the feathers.

“It's not a clean sever.” Simon says, his hand stopped on your back. It makes you feel sick, bile rises in your throat and you swallow it down.

“No.” It's all you manage to say. His hand starts to move again. You pick your wing up out of the bath letting the water drip off it. Your wings always reminded you of swans, you remember seeing them once or twice, the way the water drips off your wing reminds you of them. You move it out of the bath, Johnny moves back to give you room as you let it fall to the floor.

“Can I?” He asks, reaching out slightly. You nod. He hesitates for a second then his hand brushes over the top.

“So soft.” He says, you flex the muscle for him so he can feel it. It sends shooting pains down your back. His hand moves to your feathers, lacing his fingers through the layers, as he follows them down to the largest ones.

“Beautiful.” He breathes, your eyes follow his hands, you watch his face light up in awe as he continues to feel round the layers. Simon’s hands pick up your hair, cleaning your shoulders and the back of your neck. You tip your head forward letting his hand brush over the sensitive spots.

A new feeling pools in your stomach, deep down. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. You don’t know how to describe it. Johnny’s hands come off your wing and he reaches for the cloth out of Simon’s hands.

“How did they do it?” Simon asks, letting your hair fall back round your neck.

“Hellhound.” You swallow, images of the creature flash into your mind. The dark black fur, the red eyes, the teeth. The teeth that sliced through your flesh and bones like butter.

“Hellhound?” Johnny asks. Panic pusles through you, your wound hurts, throbbing like it did when your wing was stolen from your body. You reach out gripping the side of the bath forcing out a breath.

Simon’s warm hand lands on your shoulder.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He says. You don’t want to talk about it, it just makes things worse. You look over at Johnny who smiles at you washing the blood out of your feathers. He takes his time, his fingers brushing over the gaps where you’ve lost some. They’ll grow back eventually, the thought of your wing not growing back makes a lump form in your throat.

Eventually the bath gets cold and a shiver runs through your body. Simon says it’s time to get out, into a warm bed for some rest. They help you out of the bath handing you a towel, you use to dry yourself. Simon leaves to go find you some clothes while Johnny stays with you. He rebandages your wound with fresh ones, it hurts, even the most gentle touches send shooting pains through your back.

“Thank you.” You say, you turn to him holding the towel up against your chest. He smiles at you and it warms your heart. Simon comes back with some clothes.

“I think they might be too big.” He says, you smile at him anyway, taking them out his hand. They leave the room for you to change. You’re not sure why, they’ve seen you naked more than covered at this point.

He was right, the clothes are too big, but you don’t mind, they're clean and warm. By the looks of things he’s ripped a hole in the back of the top, you’re not sure how to put it on. You open the door with it in your hand. They’re both standing there waiting.

Johnny smiles, taking the shirt out of your hand and helps you get it on. You squeeze your wing through the hole in the back, the shirt is massive on you falling all the way down to your knees.

“What do you wear in heaven?” Johnny asks.

“Nothing. Sometimes robes.” You say as they lead you to the bedroom you woke in.

“I guess there's no embarrassment in heaven.” Johnny chuckles. You sigh, as soon as you see the bed you feel tired, like your limbs are suddenly made of lead. You walk round to the side of the bed to see the glass you broke has already been cleaned up.

“If there’s anything you need, you just have to ask.” Simon says from the end of the bed.

“Stay.” You say looking up at him, then back to Johnny standing in front of you. You don’t know what you want but you know you don’t want to be alone. Suddenly you feel guilt, you’re not sure why, you look down at your feet.

Johnny’s hand comes up to your chin pulling your head up to look at him.

“We’ll stay, let Simon lock up the house and we’ll stay.” He says, smiling at you, it makes the guilt wash away, you don’t know how he does it. He encourages you to get into bed. You have to lie on your good side or your stomach. Both options are not great.

You somehow manage to settle for somewhere in between. Johnny gets under the covers with you, but he keeps his distance. You look over at the end of the bed to see Simon is already gone.

“Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.” He says. You turn to him and smile, relaxing your head down on the pillow. You yawn, that's a new feeling, it makes your body feel all sleepy. Johnny reaches down pulling the duvet up to your armpits. You let your wing rest outside of the covers.

“Thank you Johnny. You don’t have to be so kind.” You say, your eyes feeling heavy.

“Shh, just sleep.” He says, lowering his voice as your eyes close.

…

He hears Simon come into the room and swings out of the bed going to meet him in the doorway. You fell asleep quickly, your body relaxing into the pillows, your mouth tipped open and you started to drool.

“What did you tell Price?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low.

“Family emergency.” Simon replies.

“And he bought that?” Johnny says, raising an eyebrow.

“No Johnny, then I told him an angel had landed in our back yard and he said ‘hey, take as much time off as you need.’” Simon says his voice laced with sarcasm. Johnny tuts wrapping his arm round Simon’s waist.

“What do you think we should do?” Johnny asks, looking over at you.

“I don’t know.” Simon replies. “Isn’t there anything in that book of yours?”

“Oh yeah, the bible has a whole section on what to do when a fallen angel lands in your yard. There’s a Q and A page and everything.” He says matching Simon’s sarcasm. Simon sighs, shaking his head but wraps his arm round Johnny’s back.

“Maybe we could find a way to send her back?” Simon asks.

“She said she was exiled. I don’t think they want her back.” Johnny says, sighing. They both stand there watching you, your wing rising and falling with each breath.

“What if she finds out about us?” Simon asks eventually.

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks, frowning and looking up at him.

“You know.” He sighs like he’s trying to avoid saying it. “Last I heard the bible wasn’t big on being gay.”

Johnny tuts sighing again. “It’s not like that. I’ve tried telling you.”

“Yeah well up until 48 hours ago I didn’t believe anything even existed.” Simon shrugs. Johnny sighs, reaching up to pull his face to look at him. He smiles seeing Simon’s golden eyes twinkle in the evening sun pouring through the windows.

“I love you, Simon Riley. No angel or god is going to change that.” Johnny says. Simon raises an eyebrow. Johnny reaches up to kiss him, turning in his arm and running his hands to the back of his neck.

Simon moans in his mouth and they both hear you move in bed. They break from the kiss, looking over at you, you’re still sleeping.

“Go get some sleep, I can stay with her.” Johnny says. Simon sighs, his thumb coming up to brush Johnny’s cheek.

“No falling in love with the fallen angel.” He says kissing his forehead.

“Right back at you sweetheart.” Johnny says, squeezing his ass. Simon tuts shaking his head and turns back down the hall. Johnny moves back over to the bed. The old bed creaks as he moves to lay down. He watches you for a moment, you don’t stair, he turns on his side so he’s face to face with you.

You are very beautiful, which hasn’t been helped by you being naked most of the time. He knows Simon’s been looking too, he’s not as subtle as he likes to think. He has so many questions, he doesn’t even know where to start. Right now they just need to help you recover. Hope you can recover.

Maybe he should pray, or maybe not, maybe you did something horrible and they’ve just taken a murderer under their roof. You don’t look like a murderer. He reaches out to touch your wing, it’s so soft, the feathers feel so light, he can’t imagine how you could fly with something that looks so delicate.

It twitches, he sees the muscles on the top of the wing tense and it stretches out landing over him like a blanket. It’s warm, there’s heat radiating off it, he looks back over at you still sleeping. He smiles and reaches over to brush the hair fallen on your face.

‘No falling in love with the fallen angel.’ Simon’s voice rings in his head. Too late.

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boyfhee · 13 hours ago

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𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗦 ㅤ⠀━━━━━━ ㅤ 엔하이픈

PREC𝒾S . . when you gotta go but they need you closer, right in their arms.

✶ 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍ㅤ｡⠀bf ! enha, fluffy fluff >//< ㅤ2O68 ..ㅤㅤ kissing, petnamesㅤㅤㅤread more :3

╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯ㅤ..ㅤ wrote this because i couldn't sleep :D happy reading !!

HEESEUNG

“one last kiss!”

“heeseung, go—” you groan in frustration, although your words are laced with half affection as you try to close the door on him, only for him to stop it by his hands, stepping inside.

you sigh at his smirk, arms crossed while he's putting on his best act, hand over his chest and all, words dripping with mock despair. “you're breaking my heart, angel,”

“and you're overreacting,” you huff, but honestly, you don't mind this one bit.

“one last kiss,” his hands find your waist, backing you up against the nearest wall. he feels your breath hitch, his own heart racing as he leans his forehead against yours and whispers softly. “just one, and i'll leave. i promise,”

it's like you're talking in gazes— yours fixating on him while his travels down to your lips. it only takes a brief second before you find yourself gravitating towards him, your lips moulding with his in a deep, slow kiss.

you gasp when he pulls you closer by your waist, tilting his head for a better angle, arms wrapping themselves around you like a lifeline. it's something between a longing hug and a needy kiss, and you're not sure if he's going home tonight.

JONGSEONG

it happens when he extends his arm to reach out for you.

cold. and he groans softly.

jongseong is a heavy sleeper and the only thing that can wake him up in an instant is you, or rather— your absence.

he opens his eyes, squinting them at your sleeping figure which is all warm & snug under the beige duvet. the sound of bedsheet shuffling fills his ears as he extends his arms and wraps them around you, pulling you flush against him.

“seong?” you mumble, voice dazed by the sweet slumber that was now interrupted by his sudden hug.

“nothing baby, go to sleep,” he whispers softly, pressing a soft kiss over your cheeks. you're not convinced but honestly, you're too sleepy to implore further.

so instead, you shift even close to him, arms wrapped around his waist, legs tangled, your warm breath fanning against his bare chest— a drowsy smile finds its way to his lips.

he could get used to this.

JAEYUN

“can't you stay longer?” you should've seen it coming, honestly. his constant need to hold your hand, soft caresses on your knuckles like feather on water while he was driving, the grip on your hand that keeps getting firmer as the car approaches your house— he's not ready to let you go yet.

“baby, i promise we'll meet again tomorrow,” you attempt reassuring him as he pulls over at your place, gently taking your hands out of his and cupping his face.

“yes but tomorrow,” he melts in your touch, lips jutted forward in a pout. “way too long”

it's hard to say no when he's being so desperate, giving you his best puppy eyes that are sparkling with pure love and yearning, the pout being cherry on top.

you can't help but laugh at his insistence, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. “you're insatiable,”

“can't blame me, i have a beautiful girlfriend,” he knows he's got you right where he wants. it's in the way you let him press fluttering kisses on your cheeks, allowing his hands to pull you into a warm hug by your waist. “how am i supposed to live without her?”

and you know your next words are going to be a lie but you end up speaking anyway, sighing mockingly. “just five minutes more,”

SUNGHOON

sunghoon would never admit to being a clingy boyfriend even though his actions say otherwise every time you two are together.

“get up now,” you tell him for the fifth time now, hands ghosting up his hair and moving to his shoulders.

“mhm,” he hums in response, or perhaps it's discontentment with the way he holds you a little tighter, nuzzling his face in your stomach. “keep doing that,”

“doing what?”

“the thing you were doing with my hair,” you can feel his words brush against your skin, your top slightly lifted up as he draws random patterns on the bare skin of your waist. “it feels nice,”

and you can't help but comply, your fingers getting lost in his soft brown locks. the scent of his shampoo draws you in and your lips curl into a smile when you feel him relax further under your touch.

“don't stop, please,” his voice is quiet, laced with a silver of desperation, his need for you to be close. he only hugs you tighter, a breathy chuckle erupting from your mouth when he buries his face in your belly.

and sunghoon is definitely not a clingy boyfriend, but you don't mind if your mornings start a bit late just because he wants you to hug him and play with his hair a few minutes more. “i won't,”

SUNOO

your boyfriend has been following you around wordlessly for a while now,

he finally musters up the courage to reach out to you, hugging you instantly, afraid of looking at you in the eyes. “you're mad at me,”

“i am not, sunoo. let go,” you try to reassure him, hands on his arms as you gently push him away with a snicker, only for him to hug you tighter.

“you aren't even looking at me,” he's pouting now, once starry eyes now drowning in guilt as they refuse to let go of the sight of you. “ it completely slipped my mind. i swear it wasn't intentional.”

and sunoo isn't the one to forget plans. he makes them, he's the first one to get ready. it's unusual, rare, when he misses a date— your first time in two years and perhaps that's why it stings a little more than you had expected, but you do understand his urgency towards work.

you nod, caressing his cheeks, lips pressed in a thin line. “i know and it's okay,”

“really?” he wants to believe you, he hopes you mean it, and if you don't, he's ready to try a million times to make it up to you. “i love you,”

you don't get a chance to respond, words left unsaid on the tip of your tongue when he starts pressing butterfly kisses all over your face.

“never—” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “—ever—” and then on both your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose. “—forget that,” and lastly, on your lips.

JUNGWON

“do we have to go?” he asks with almost pleading eyes, the whiney voice only lurching your heart further when you look at him.

“yes,” you respond with a gentle kiss on his forehead before pulling back, your hands still cupping his face. “before our friends notice our absence,”

“i hate keeping this a secret,” he doesn't break eye contact when he says this, kissing both your palms simultaneously before his hands go back to your hips, wanting to have you in his lap just a little longer. “just wanna show you off, darling,”

it leaves you breathless when he tugs you closer to him, the lack of space in the storage not helping you with keeping your sanity together.

it's dark, you feel his warm breath fanning against your face. you almost lose all your reasoning before composing yourself. “we'll tell them soon,”

“promise?”

and you nod, caressing his cheeks gently under your fingertips. “promise,”

“okay, now let me kiss you more,” he doesn't let you respond, immediately brings his lips back to yours, and when you hear a knock on the door, your lips kiss-swollen, lipstick smudged on his— you realise you can't keep it a secret anymore.

NI-KI

“riki let go—” you try getting away for the hundredth time, hands on his chest— your best attempt at stepping away and once again, he manages to pull you in against him.

“shut up,” he mutters against your hair, pressing butterfly kisses before bringing his head down to your ear, whispering. “you talk too much,”

the hint of irritation in his voice is betrayed by the softness of his touch, in the way he gently takes your arms and wraps them around his waist, as if they belong there.

your head is tilted all the way up, chin resting on his chest and he looks even more handsome under the streetlight. “if my parents find out, they're killing both of us,”

“then i'll make sure to find you in my next life too,” and you don't know what has gotten into him— even he is surprised, but none of you say anything, letting the silence speak for your hearts.

“cheesy,” you whisper against his hoodie, melting in the warmth of his embrace in the cold night, biting back a smile when you hear him whisper a quiet 'i love you' in the crook of your neck.

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moonshynecybin · 2 days ago

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any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

#classic fanfiction stuff here no frills #motogp #asks #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #airport au

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lady-ashfade · 2 days ago

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hihi

can i get yandere bakusquad boys? they lowkey get jealous over one another but eventually they all get you

Lover Rivalry

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Characters: Baku boys: sero, kiri, baku, denki.

Warnings: jealousy, fighting slightly, Poly!, yandere, short.

͙͘͡★ they are already together in this!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 🫧 ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊˚˖🦈𓍢ִ✧˚. 🫧 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Lets be real honest for a minute. They will always buttheads, there is no stopping it.

Everyone wants you attention, this is where they buttheads the most. They all want to spend alone time with you, doing different things but only one can get it. But their darling, you, can get them to calm down so easily. Since they shut up and sit down when you yell at them.

Each week, you make plans with them.

Katsuki is taking you out on a date, he says he’s not romantic but he’s a little lier. Mf is making the night go perfectly. Roses, dressing up and eating your favorite meal.

Denki is either laying on you, you sitting on his lap, or playing video games together. He wants his time to be next to you, cuddling or having fun! He is very hyper but at the end of the day. You can make him sit!

Sero likes to do all sorts of things. Napping, video games, going on dates. Honestly he is just following you around but his arm is never not on you. So, you do different things all week. Wanna go to a amusement park? Would you like to go on a date? Chill at the house? Sero makes it his mission to do what you want to do. He’s just glad to be there.

Kirishima likes to do on dates, but not fancy ones like katsuki. Movie date. Or making you dinner at home with candles…and yes, even a gym date. Doesn’t matter if you work out, he’s just showing off anyway or lifting you up like weights.

God forbid you kiss one of them while doing something and forget about the others. Doesn’t take them long to crack and ask for a kiss-

͙͘͡★ sorry if this wasn’t long or what you wanted!

#yandere mha x reader #bakusqaud x reader #yandere bakusqaud x reader #denki kaminari x reader #yandere denki kaminari x reader #yandere denki kaminari #katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere katsuki bakugo #yandere katsuki Bakugo x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #yandere eijiro kirishima #yandere eijiro kirishima x reader #yandere my hero academia #imagine

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cosmerelists · 3 days ago

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Randomly Assembled Cosmere Roommates: How Will They Fare?

[Note: This post contains major WAT spoilers!]

@truthwatcherblog created a poll (which should still be going on, if I've gotten my dates right?) wherein you spin a picker wheel to randomly assign yourself three Stormlight roommates. With OP's permission, I'm going to use their picker wheel not to give myself roommates, but to create trios of Stormlight characters who now must room together. Let's see how it goes!

[I faithfully adhered to the picker wheel except for skipping repeats. Lin Davar came up THREE times!]

1. Lopen, the Nightwatcher, Cord

The Nightwatcher would stay holed up in her room all day, leaving mostly just Lopen & Cord, who did travel together during Dawnshard...a story in which we learned that Lopen has a huge crush on Cord. Hopefully they'd sort that out pretty quick so that it doesn't turn into a Wayne/Ranette situation.

Cord: And this is my girlfriend, Rysn. Lopen: Well okay, but I'm not gonna stop trying to impress you with my jokes and manly ways! Cord: ...To try to win me over? Lopen: No, I mostly just like making people laugh and and I like being complimented. For my manly ways. Cord: I can live with that. Nightwatcher: [Through the closed door and the ten million blankets that she shrouds herself in] Can someone please bring me ice cream?

2. Moash, Lin Davar [Shallan's dad], Syl

[sing-song voice] Someone is getting muuuurdered!

Lin: Are you stupid as well as blind, dark-eyes? I SAID to pour me wine! Moash: [already drawing his sword] Syl: In this house, we stan some extrajudicial killings.

3. Lezian, Masha-daughter-Shaliv [Szeth's wife], Maya

This household is never at peace.

Lezian: I CAN'T do the dishes, I'm busy STALKING and KILLING people! Maya: [arms folded] A good soldier doesn't shy away from unglamorous work. Maya: You can be a "killing slut" later. Lezian: STOP CALLING ME THAT Masha (busy writing): Hey guys, what's a synonym for "bald"?

4. Skar, Rock, Kmakl [Queen Fen's husband]

It all works out great once they set some boundaries.

Skar: No more sex with your wife in the living room without warning us first. Kmarkl: Fiiiiine. Skar: We all love your stew, Rock, but sometimes other people want to use the big pot, too. Rock: Fair enough, fair enough! Rock: And you, Skar, need to stop throwing our stuff out the window just because we leave them lying around! Kmarkl: I couldn't find my lucky socks for two weeks! Skar: ... Skar: Wow, living together really is about compromise.

5. Roshone, Huio, Taravangian

Mostly, I feel sorry for Huio.

Roshone: Can't believe my wife kicked me out. Can't belive I have to have roommates. Taravangian: Nobody go into the basement, okay? I'm using it to store my...stuff. Roshone: Why does your "stuff" require so much sound-proofing, anyway? Taravangian: It's, uh, a playroom for my...noisy grandchildren? Roshone: Sure, that feels right. Huio: [in the kitchen making soup] Huio: (muttering to himself in Herdazian): I'm NEVER telling them I can understand Alethi.

6. Szeth, Rlain, Drehy

This is going to be SO good for Szeth's mental health! Drehy's gonna be working overtime helping both of his roommates, though.

Rlain: So, uh... Drehy: Yes, you may ask me all of your "gay" questions. Rlain: I really appreciate that! Szeth: Kaladin says that I must "ask other people" if I have a thought that "does not quite seem right." Szeth: I pose this to you both: if you burn a dinner you were really looking forward to, is death the answer? Rlain: No! Drehy: I'll order pizza.

7. Gezamal [Yanagawn's guard], Ishnah [Lightweaver], Testament [dead-eyed cryptic]

Testament is really the glue that holds this household together.

Gezamal: Ishnah, let's have dinner together tonight and talk. Ishnah: What, why? Gezamal: Testament and I share a bond since she is a dead-eye and I am Unoathed. Testament: [gives thumbs-up] Gezamal: You and Testament share a bond because you are a Ligthweaver and she is a Cryptic. Testament: [gives thumbs-up] Gezamal: For household solidarity, you and I should now figure out what we have in common. Ishnah: ...What's that big book you have? Gezamal: I pre-drafted a list of things we might have in common. Gezamal: For example, as a member of the Unseen Court, were you ever punished with lavatory duty? That happened to me once. Ishnah: Oh, this conversation is gonna be rough.

8. Elid [Szeth's sister], Kalak [herald], Wyndle

Kalak, scared as he is of humans, much prefers one of his two roommates...

Wyndle: Oh, I'm so glad you like this! "How It's Made" is one of my FAVORITE shows, but the mistress says it's "boring." Kalak: It's great! I've never felt so calm! Elid: Yo, what are we watching? Kalak: Eep! Elid: ... Elid: The Almighty Herald is hiding behind a cushion again, huh? Wyndle: I-I'm sure he doesn't mean to offend you!

9. Wit, Aladar [highprince], Renarin

It's like Christmas came early for Wit--he likes to make fun of both of them!

Wit: [eyes glinting] Aladar: W-We should make an alliance now, Renarin! Aladar: Together we can stand up even to this man! Renarin: Oh, uh... Renarin: I actually already made an alliance with Wit this morning, when he asked. Aladar: NOOOOO

10. Abidi the Monarch, the Thrill, Tanavast

Okay, I'm sure your mind went immediately to "sheer destruction," but what if...?

Tanavast: Abidi! It's YOUR turn to walk the Thrill! The Thrill: [bouncing excitedly at the word "walk"] Abidi: Not now, you fool! There are people being wrong on the internet, and I must bathe in their blood! [sitcom laugh track] Abidi: And I keep telling you to call me Abidi the Monarch! Tanavast (muttering): More like Abidi the Moron. The Thrill: Arf! Arft! [sitcom laugh track] [Theme song starts playing, revealing the sitcom title: 3 Old Gods]

#cosmere #cosmerelists #wat spoilers #wind and truth #wind and truth spoilers #kowt spoilers

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rocknrollsalad · 1 day ago

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rating: gen cw: deadbeat dads, school, workplace injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of loss of body parts tags: al munson is a shitty dad, wayne munson is the best dad, pre-teen eddie, they're doing their best, eddie's a brat but it's developmentally appropriate word count: 1620

“What are your days off?”

The question came as soon as Wayne said “Hello”. Nothing in response, no clues as to who it was, just the question coming like Wayne had interrupted someone else’s conversation. Of course, he knew exactly who it was. Not only from the voice but the approach.

Eddie had never been one for waiting or formalities and he was practically a teenager now so the impatience only seemed to worsen. If Wayne had enough hair to go gray, he was sure it would be white and all because of Eddie.

“The weekend. If you need me to come and get you, I got plenty of time and Marty’s on tonight so if I’m a little late he’ll be fine.”

“I don’t need you to come and get me.” The “I’m not a baby was barely implied. Wayne could hear Eddie physically stop himself from adding it.

“Al there?”

“No.” Again, Eddie reacted in a way that didn’t fit the question.

Wayne was starting to put some pieces together. Not the purpose of the call. Eddie was annoyed with the questions but wasn’t offering any clarification either. Wayne would lay good money down that his brother had been gone for a while. Well past the day he said he’d return.

It had Wayne doing the math, to see if he really could make it out there and back before he had to clock in and how much time would have to stop at the store. The phone cord didn’t allow for much pacing, but there was a well-worn groove in the kitchen floor from many other calls like this that Wayne slipped right into.

“Water and electricity still on?”

“God, yes. Will you stop acting like I’m five? You know I know how to get power from the neighbors anyway.”

“Don’t do that, though. Call me first, then we can resort to theft.”

“Ugh, dad’s right, you’re always ruining the fun.”

Oh, so Al hadn’t been gone long. Wayne was wrong. Which meant a much better chance that there was still food in the house. Meaning a trip out there could wait a few days. Letting out a slow breath, Wayne looked out the small window over the kitchen sink.

He was ready to scramble all available troops to respond to an “emergency” here and it was all for nothing. It’d take a few moments to bring his heart rate back down and stop processing every variable.

Worry stayed though. Eddie needed something and had nowhere else to turn but a man a solid forty-five minute drive out. It didn’t matter how many times Wayne offered the room up, Eddie insisted on staying out there. Not that Wayne thought it’d offer much relief for himself but at least less frantic drives.

“Yeah, yeah. How dare I try and keep you from jail. What an asshole,” Wayne scoffed, meeting Eddie’s attitude with some of his own.

“Alright, whatever. I gotta go.”

“Ed,” Wayne scrubbed a hand over his face and said a quick prayer. He needed all the help he could get to remember this was his nephew and not the brother he’d spent half a life fighting with. Eddie didn’t know better, he was doing what he saw but it pushed all the same buttons. “Why did you need to know my days off?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter, they’re the wrong days.”

“Typically they’re the good ones, boy. Why don’t I come pull you from school early on Friday and you can spend the weekend out here?”

“I don’t want to. Dad’s gonna be back on Sunday and we’re getting pizza.”

That stab to the heart was enough to hunch Wayne’s shoulders. Both he and Eddie knew that Al wouldn’t be back this Sunday, possibly not next Sunday. As hard as it was, Wayne made a few sounds to say he understood. This would be the time or something.

“Alright well, why you calling for my work schedule then?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid and you can’t do it so it doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“I’m not going to ask again, Ed.” There was a warning in Wayne’s tone that he didn’t like to use but felt necessary.

For a few seconds, at least. The silence on the other end had Wayne regretting his choice. He was too harsh. He tried to be easy on the kid, none of this was his fault, but he needed to know where the lines were or else he really would end up like his dad.

Since Wayne took a bit of the blame for Al, he was trying to improve this go around but it was easy. He didn’t know anything about raising kids and really hadn’t learned much between Al and Eddie here. He wasn’t supposed to be the parental type.

Sounding a bit more like the child he was and less like a delinquent fighting with a cop, Eddie finally spoke again. “There’s a career day on Thursday, it’s totally stupid but everyone’s dads are coming.”

Sucking in a breath, Wayne felt that stab again and went to sit down. He had to proceed with caution here, obviously, Eddie was already struggling with this. Wayne didn’t want to make it worse.

Eddie didn’t share the same sentiment and filled the silence. Something that was usually facts about medieval Europe or he was big into aliens right now.

“All the other kids keep saying that no one is coming for me and that my dad doesn’t even love me enough to stick around, he’s not coming to the school. And, like, my dad loves me. They just don’t get it that he’s gotta do stuff. We can’t eat air.”

“Okay, kid, but–”

“They’re all just jealous because I don’t have anyone telling me to do things.”

“Now that makes sense,” Wayne said, thankful Eddie couldn’t see the wince on his face or the way he had to swallow the lie with a lump in his throat.

“I got detention all week for trying to punch Ricky Demchuck because he wouldn’t stop.”

“What have I told you?”

“I just got so mad,” Eddie ran the words together, reliving the moment.

Again, Wayne left a bit of silence. He couldn’t bring himself to yell at the kid. Wayne would have done the same in his shoes. Except Wayne knew he’d have done more than try…and got more than detention.

“My job is pretty boring, not sure it’ll help.”

“You could tell them about that guy who lost his hand.”

And like that, Wayne heard his nephew. Not a bitter and sad kid trying to be an adult but the Eddie that came out when things were comfortable for a bit. It also reminded Wayne that eleven year olds would love the horror stories from the plant. If he toned down the language and tried to work in a lesson about safety, he’d be a hit. The stories had worked with Eddie for years now.

“What time do I gotta be there?”

“Noon, I think. After lunch! We’ll be in the gym, not our classroom.”

Wayne didn’t know where the classroom was. The gym was a maybe but there’d be other adults.

“Sarah and Michelle are bringing their granddad and Donovan’s bringing his brother who’s a soldier,” Eddie stopped himself there but there was more. Likely the whole roster of guests.

“So an uncle won’t even be that lame,” Wayne said, trying to laugh.

“An uncle would be so cool!” Eddie missed the joke and that was probably for the best. “Will you really tell them about that guy’s hand? Even the bloody parts?”

It was so easy to picture Eddie, sitting on the couch with an excitement that neither Wayne or Al had ever shown for anything, it had to have come from Eddie’s mom. Those big eyes and rabid smile, waiting to hear more, was something Wayne hoped for every visit. Hell, it was why Eddie knew the story to begin with.

“I might have to tone down some of the blood, not all kids can handle that. Y’know, not all adults can either now that I think about it. Wouldn’t want to stress out your teacher.”

Eddie laughed and Wayne knew things were going to be okay. What was losing a bit of sleep to make the kid happy?

“That’s even better! I bet you could make Mrs. Woolbright scream!”

“I’m not going to torture your teachers.”

“They torture me,” Eddie snapped back so quickly it was like he’d set everything up just to say that.

“Yeah, yeah. Must be tough having to do all that schoolwork,” Wayne laughed. “Look, I’ll be at your school at noon so mind your p’s and q’s until then, yeah? I’m not driving all that way to learn you been suspended. And maybe I can get me one of them school lunches.”

Eddie groaned and told Wayne the teen years were way closer than he wanted them to be. “Fine-ah.”

“And don’t just eat cereal for dinner tonight.”

“Jesus Christ, Uncle Wayne. All the time you’re telling me not to eat cereal. I know, I know. I gotta go, okay? I got some stuff to do.”

“Well sorry for keeping ya, boy. See you on Thursday.”

Much like the call started, it ended without a word. Wayne repeated that he’d be there for Eddie and got a dial tone in return. As weird as it was, it spared a lot of awkward silences that Wanye was thankful for.

He went and put the career day on his calendar and carried on with his day. If he was going to do one thing for that kid, it would be showing up. Never mind lame stories or a boring job, he’d be there. Always.

#this is for finish your fucking wips february baybeeeeeee #found it in my unfinished folder and fucking finished it #i know it's a ship-less fic but it's cute #hope you like it #eddie munson #wayne munson #definitely slapdash editing job too so sorry

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