#anyway. trust me when i say i put effort into his face (but it's a secret for now ^_^)

[flustersnaggle]

A QUICK FIX, IT'S A CHEAP TRICK! anastasius grimaldi (he/him) — genius // macabre // cringe

private physician, three-time graduate from the university of britechester, and non-fiction author under the pen name of "p. estilence". despite his prodigious intellect and line of work, grimaldi comes with... a few eccentricities of his own.

general: mask (life & death) // body preset (male body preset N3) // skinblend // skin color // skin tints // veins // hands // body hair everyday: hat // hair // cloak (recolored) // outfit (recolored) // undershirt // gloves // socks (base game) // shoes (base game) formal: hat // hair // necklace // outfit // undershirt // gloves (get to work) // watch (base game) athletic: hair (base game) // outfit (happy at home event) // undershirt // gloves (get to work) // socks (base game) // shoes (kuroo sneakers) sleepwear: hair (base game) // necklace // outfit (life & death) // shirt graphic // gown // nails (base game) // socks (base game) // slippers (base game) party: hat // hair (cats & dogs) // shawl (recolored) // top // undershirt // gloves // pants (realm of magic) // chaps // shoes (jungle adventure) swimwear: hair // wetsuit (island living) // floaties // nails (base game) // flippers (island living) hot weather: hat // hair // shirt // undershirt (accessory shirt no. 3) // gloves // nails (base game) // pants // shoes (base game) cold weather: hat // hair // scarf (no. 1) // top // gloves (get to work) // pants (brad jeans) // boots (realm of magic) extras: poses 1 // poses 2 (+ wand) // poses 3 // poses 4

thank you! — @obscurus-sims, @catplnt, @disorganaized, @crilender, @magic-bot, @luumiasims, @bokchoijo, @wistfulpoltergeist, @studio-k-creation, @seoulsoul-sims, @oranos, @mathcopesims, @plazasims, @lady-moriel, @qicc, @cowplant-pizza, @w-sims, @deathpoke1qa, @its-adrienpastel, @elfdor (may they rest in peace), @simsontherope, @margosims, @helgatisha, @ooobsooo, @aharris00britney, @ayoshi, @simsxen

[suhkusa]

OPEN ARMS.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

CW. ALL CHARACTERS 18+, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to fwb to lovers 0-0, he’s dumb, you’re dumb, feelings, smut but it’s not detailed, dubious consent, please let me know if i missed anything!

WC. ~2.8k

A/N. If you’ve seen this before no you haven’t!!! first time writing for mha :p

I.

The first time you fucked Bakugou, it was a mistake.

It was during your 19th birthday party, which he had thrown for you “out of the kindness of his heart”, he’d say.

You two clearly had too much to drink, but so did your friends around you. Too much where none of them seemed to notice as the two of you slipped out of the living room to his own room.

The first time with him was your first time at all.

And even then, even in his drunken stupor, he still handled you with care.

Despite his rough and unruly nature he usually displayed, he was gentle. It was a funny thought though, Katsuki Bakugou fucks gently.

“Are- you sure?”, he mutters, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You managed to slur out a weak, “mhm”, before he began to slowly slip off your clothes. One by one.

And even though it was gentle, it was messy. Each kiss is filled with saliva and teeth. Every thrust is hesitant but thorough. Everything was him.

When the time came and you two were lying in bed, chests heaving as your minds tried to catch up with your bodies. You had just fucked your childhood best friend.

The rest of the night was awkward as the two of you sobered up, yes. But when morning came, it was like nothing happened.

It was a silent agreement, never again.

——

II.

The second time you fucked Bakugou, it was by choice.

Though, not for the reason you thought it’d be.

“The hell are you at my door for? It’s 2 in the—”

“He cheated, Katsuki,”

His eyes met with your tear-stained face, his face dropping in realization.

“Shit,” he looked around before eyes locking back onto you, “c’mere you big baby,”

Bakugou’s arms opened before you fell into them.

His scent and touch are familiar. Somewhat nostalgic of the time you two were kids and he’d comfort you after beating up the boys who’d tease you.

“S’alright,” he muttered, “you know he was ugly as shit anyways,”

You cry more after he says that, knowing he was right, but still hurting more nonetheless.

“Sheesh,” he lets you go to lead you into his house.

Without his help, you make your way into his room, welcoming yourself to the warm blankets. You hog them to yourself, whining when he tugs them off.

“Don’t cry over him, he was a piece of shit, and I told you so,” he snickers, still with a comforting tone.

You sniffle, “I know- I know, it still hurts though,”

It hurts because it was your first relationship. It hurts because outside Katsuki, you’ve never put so much effort and trust into a person. And for it to be thrown away made you feel nothing but worthless. 7 months may not have been long, but to you it felt like eternity.

Bakugou rolls his eyes dismissively, knowing that little to nothing he could do would help, “you need anything?”

To this day, you don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way he looked at you with care instead of his usual roughness, or the way your heart yearned for touch and comfort. Perhaps it was the way that even though, yes, Bakugou warned you about your cheating ex and you didn’t listen, he let his pride down and came to the rescue.

“You,”

“Don’t say that, freak,” he shrugs your words off as a joke, moving to get up, “I’ll be in the livi—“

Your hands move before your brain can stop it, latching onto his wrist.

“Please,”

Your teary eyes watch the cogs turn in his brain. Before you realize, he’s lifting your chin with a rough hand, bringing your lips to his. And before you can catch a breath, he’s onto you, taking you once again.

——

III.

The the third time you fucked Bakugou, you realize this would become a regular thing.

There was no heartache or liquor. There were two friends, lonely but still content, bored with nothing to do.

You don’t really remember what initiated it, or who, one moment you guys were watching the latest episode of that sitcom he showed you, and the next you were on top of him.

He lifted your hips and slammed into you, over and over until you couldn’t even think about how you got into this position. Until all of your senses were just filled with him, him, and him.

“You’re mine,” he grabbed at your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you hear me?”

In the heat of the moment, you gasp a loose, “yes,” before locking your lips with his.

Your body was hot and wet, and his words only ignited the flames in your stomach even higher before you couldn’t take it anymore, falling against him as your pussy convulsed around his length.

As your chest heaved against his, your mind cleared a bit, thinking back on his words.

His.

The concept of being his was a nice thought. Though you know you could never commit anymore. Especially to him. Bakugou’s your best friend, and your love for him would always be just that.

This is casual. It doesn’t have to mean anything. People have casual flings or friends with benefits all the time. It just so happens yours is with your best friend. You two were grown adults now, you both know well what you’re getting yourselves into. Best friends can fuck without feelings being involved.

Right?

——

VI.

The next couple of times you fucked Bakugou, you noticed a shift.

It was a subtle slow shift, it came in waves that only grew every time he touched you.

In the moment, it was great. Everything about it. The way he fucked, the way he cared for you. It was just a little bonus of your guys’ hangouts. You guys still do the things you would do before this whole arrangement started. Talk, gossip, eat food, sleep. And before you knew it, sex became a part of the routine.

And if you were being honest, you enjoyed it. It filled the hole that had been left by your ex. But now that you had gotten over him, it felt like you were about to burst at the seams by the whiplash Bakugou gave you.

You never gave a second thought to this arrangement you two had. It felt normal. You guys had always been this close. Through school, college, and even having your first jobs together. Of course, there were times you guys were apart, but even still you two managed to remain as close as ever.

After the first several times, you began to experience this weird feeling in your chest. You didn’t want to put a name to the emotion out of the fear it’d create more problems than you needed.

But you could only silence your heart for so long until it begins to boil over.

It was after the second round of the day. You’re dazed as you stare at the ceiling, legs sore, cunt aching.

You feel your throat get caught on itself as you try to make up the words to come out. It feels thick as you say it. Scared to know his answer, scared that this all could fall apart— that you’d fall apart.

“Why are we doing this?” you start, hesitant.

“Not sure,” he mutters, scrolling through his phone, “it’s fun?”

It’s fun. Yeah, maybe that was it. That phrase would simmer in the depths of your mind, constantly trying to convince yourself yes, this was fun. So much to block out the painful tinge you’d feel in your chest after every time you lie in bed together after having sex.

This was your childhood best friend. Bakugou Katsuki. Anyone could have him but he’s lying here with you. You realize the possibility of going back to how things were was slim. He’s not going to be that hard-headed, obnoxious friend you’d known since you were kids anymore. It’s gone past that boundary, and you’re scared to keep exploring the uncharted territory.

It’s then you realize that maybe this was a mistake after all.

——

VIII.

It’s the 7th— no, 8th? You’ve lost count. Nonetheless, it was this time that you realized you loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Perhaps you’ve always known this, just pushing all the emotions to the back of your heart and mind for the sake of the friendship.

But you knew all too well that those boundaries had been pushed too far. Time and time you told yourself that this was all okay, but it wasn’t. And it felt like you were slowly tearing yourself apart.

He was tearing you apart, but it was no one’s fault but your own.

The words he’s been using have been getting riskier and riskier. Toying with the romantic edge of things.

Bakugou was being rougher than usual, a bad day at work being the source. Though you didn’t mind, it felt good nonetheless. It’s rare for him to shock you with his words.

“Fuck,” he groans in your ear, “you’re beautiful,”

His words make you clench around him harder, egging you on to whimper in his ear.

“You’re too fuckin’ good— way- too good,”

His cock pummeled your insides and he thrusted into you relentlessly, praise raining from his mouth like an everflowing river.

“I want you— bad,” his grip on your hips tightens, and the telltale look on his face tells you he’s about to finish.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs lowly as he cums, so low you barely miss it under your own soft gasps. So low you weren’t even sure you heard it right.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes, what an asshole.

Your insecurity gets the best of you so you just pull him tighter to your body in response to whatever he said.

His words poke and prod at your heart. It feels good to hear it. But it hurts worse knowing it’s the sex talking. It’s the frustrations from work talking. It’s all fake. It’s all talk. No meaning or emotion to back it up.

Bakugou doesn’t even realize it, but he’s encouraging you and your feelings for him. And you don’t know how much more you can take.

——

I.

It was the first time that Katsuki fucked you, he realized he loved you.

You were a constant in his life, and while you were annoying at times, you were always there, even the times where he was shitty towards you.

Katsuki knew you were pretty, always have been— even when the two of you were kids and you’d have mud and dirt all over your face after tussling with him.

But especially now you were gorgeous. Glossy-eyed and so vulnerable underneath him. It was as if he forced himself to sober up, just so that he could remember this moment.

He knew it was selfish to act upon his own desires, and so he asked,

“Are- you sure?”

Everything about you was pretty, his eyes fixated on your lips as you muttered a sweet “mhm”.

Katsuki wishes he had photographic memory so he could remember and cherish every second of it.

He knew this couldn’t happen again. The relationship you two already had was too good for him to let his personal feelings interfere. And he was okay with that. He had his own things to worry about.

There were too many things going on in his life. And even if you wanted him (the chances are slim), he doesn’t know if he’d be able to give you what you needed or wanted. He liked being friends with you for so long because you made everything so easy. He didn’t want to ruin what you had because of his stupid, selfish feelings.

But for now, he’ll indulge in himself. Just this once.

It was the first time that Bakugou Katsuki fucked you that he realized, for him, this wasn’t a mistake.

——

X.

This time would be the last, you told yourself.

You’d let yourself fall into him once more. Let him hold you once more. Be with him once more. And then you’d call it quits. You’d force yourself and him to go back to how things were. No matter what.

You want him, but that’s all it could ever be. And you couldn’t want him. He’s your best friend. The only love you should’ve ever had for him was platonic, but circumstances you forced upon yourself changed that.

You’re able to tell when he’s in the mood. He looks at you daringly with his ruby eyes, and gets touchier. It’s barely ever sudden with him, he eases you into it.

“Katsuki…” you whisper, weak to his touch as he slips his hand under your shirt and straight to your breasts.

“Mm,” he responds, lips already meeting with the soft skin of your neck.

It takes all of you, and you mean all of you, to force the words out of your mouth. You knew you didn’t want to mean it, you’d let him take you as many times as he pleases. But you had to mean it. Because it hurts. Too much.

“I can’t— We can’t do this anymore,” the words fumble a bit, you’re a bit embarrassed and wish you could take it all back.

He freezes altogether, and it scares you.

Bakugou sits back, removing his hand and lips from you before looking in your eyes.

His eyes search your face, lips looking like he’s searching for something to say. You don’t even know what to say.

“I— alright,” he says in a somewhat defeated tone. “Are you okay?”

No.

“Y-yeah, it’s just, weird, you know,” he looks confused at your words but agrees nonetheless. “You’re my best friend and I love you, we just… can’t,”

“No yeah,” is all he says before he sits back in his place on the couch, “I love you, too, I understand,”

You’re scared. His calmness is anxiety driving. Did you really not matter that much? Was the intimacy so easy to let go of? Your heart is breaking, you can feel it. It hurts.

You want to leave, you need to. It’s overwhelming and the silence is drowning. The TV plays in the back but all you hear is silence and all you see is him. It’s too much, you need to-

“Y/N,” you snap your head up at his voice, he’s closer, his hand is reaching out to you, “what’s wrong? You’re crying,”

A rough thumb pad swipes at the tears that had escaped without your knowledge. And the dam breaks.

Bakugou’s eyes widen and he pulls you in to embrace you, “you on your period or what?” He's joking, but you can tell he’s genuinely questioning you as to what the hell happened.

“You, it’s you,” you sob into his chest, and it’s so embarrassing. Shame spreads across your cheeks and body, and you babble nonsense.

“I love you, and it hurts,” you cry, “Fuck, I ruined everything,”

You can’t stop.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I ruined it, I ruined us. I was selfish,”

Your mouth is moving on its own.

“I can’t just fuck you and— and be just friends with you, it’s too much,”

You choke on your words, they’re heavy as they come out, fighting against the saliva that builds in your mouth.

“I want you,”

His words startle you. They’re sudden, and cut off whatever else you were about to say. He’s genuine. You can tell by the underlying softness of his voice.

“Are you an idiot? I wouldn’t— fuck,” his grasp around you gets tighter.

“I don’t fuck just anybody,” Bakugou says, “I feel like I’ve told you that,”

“But— that one time-”

“That was my girlfriend at the time, dipshit,”

You sniffle at that, and he realizes you’re still vulnerable.

“Sorry, I just,” he releases you a bit, eyes locked on you, “I love you, have for a while,”

Your jaw drops a bit at that.

“Feelings are just too complicated, you’re too complicated. I didn’t want to break whatever we had, y’know?,” you can tell he’s struggling, “but it became routine, and I was selfish and didn’t want to stop,”

“You’re sappy,”

“Shut it,” he snaps, pinching your side and earning a yelp from you. “Don’t cry, got it? I want you just as much as you want me,”

His thumbs wipe away the stray tears, “you’re such an idiot,”

“No, you are— you’re so mean, saying things you don’t mean to me,” you mutter, eyes meeting his own.

“I’ve never said anything I didn’t mean to you,” he states matter-of-factly. And you realize he’s serious.

You open your mouth to retort, to argue, but he catches you in a kiss before you’re able to. He’s warm and gentle, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel yourself begin to tear up again, it doesn’t hurt anymore. But your heart is relieved and feels as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of it. It feels free.

It’s this time where you’re about to fuck Bakugou Katsuki that you realize it was always going to be him, and perhaps those times were never mistakes after all.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[lijojo]

genshin men sleeping habits

premise: in the early glows of the morning, you wake up in the vice grip of your lover. while it’s very heartwarming, you need to go to work. how does he convince you to stay in bed with him a little longer? 

tw: suggestive for the last one

pretends to be asleep but doesn’t let up with his fucking grip regardless

you’ve. tried. everything. you tried nudging him awake, even gave him a couple kisses, but he doesn’t let up. instead, he groans and flips over, taking you along with him. you yelp, unable to brace for impact as you’re suddenly on your side.  

he shuffles a bit, wrapping his legs around you a little tighter (if that was even possible). he presses his nose into the crook of your neck. he sighs, content.

after minutes of effort, you decide to relinquish any hopes of waking him up. 

“i give up,” you say. “you win. a little longer won’t hurt, right?”

you get no response. but you don’t really need one anyway. 

he’s not a very good pretender, with the way his lips can’t help but break out into a little triumphant smile. 

alhaitham, kaeya, kaveh, childe, tighnari, thoma, zhongli, diluc, ayato, venti, baizhu, kazuha, scaramouche, xiao

he ambushes you when you least expect it

after many attempts to squeeze out of his hold, you’re successful. out of breath, maybe, but at least you gained the ability to finally roll out of bed and start the day. 

sitting up, you give one last glance to your lover. the way his chest rises and falls so rhythmically. the peaceful look on his face. the way he squints when the sunlight hits his eyes. how his hands unconsciously look for you again. you almost feel bad. 

that is, until you take one—maybe two, if he’s feeling generous—steps away from the bed. without any kind of sign, signal, or warning, he launches out of bed. he lunges at you like a ravenous wolf, wrapping his arms around your waist and hauling you back to bed with great force. he huffs when you land on his chest, but he’s quick to recover. 

he wraps his arms around your shoulders, locking you in with his legs. “you’re not leaving me.” 

you can’t help the grin spreading across your lips as you squirm. “let me go. i’m going to be late—”

he retaliates by peppering your neck with chaste kisses. “nuh uh. yo can’t leave me. my heart won’t allow it.” 

you can’t even turn to face him. “honey, if you don’t let me go, next time i’m going to burn your breakfast.”

“uh huh.”

“i’ll steal all your favorite clothes and hide them,” you threaten.

“please do. i’m sure you’ll love my birthday suit,” he quips back.

“and i’m going to use all the hot water.”

“we can always shower together.” 

“i’ll—”

“do you’re worst. i can take it,” he teases. “i’m still not letting you go. i chose you, i’m going to keep you ‘til the end of time. forever!”

with that, he presses sloppery kisses all over your face despite your protests that he needs to brush his teeth. even so, you can’t help but feel as if staying for five minutes more might not be so bad.

kaeya, kaveh, childe, thoma, venti, itto, heizou, ayato

“assures” you that getting ready doesn’t take as long as you know it does

“what if i did your hair and makeup for you?” he muses, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

you scoff playfully. “do you even know my makeup routine?”

“it can’t be as complicated as mine. oh! you could eat breakfast while i button up your clothes for you.”

his offer gets a laugh out of you. “we both know you’re not going to finish buttoning it up.”

“hm? whatever do you mean?” his hands drag down your waist to your hips, tracing slow circles. “you don’t trust me to put your clothes on for you?”

“i don’t think they’ll stay on, that’s the problem,” you say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “you know how you get in the morning.”

“do i? how about you remind me? my little friend could use some help waking up—” 

you give him a look of warning, to which he groans. “fine, fine.”

with that, he’s left you in silence, absentmindedly petting your head. he closes his eyes.

...

...

...

“if you aren’t going to say anything, i’m going drop kick you.” 

he huffs. “don’t rush your genius boyfriend. what if i brushed your teeth  while you brushed your hair? as they say, teamwork makes the dream work.”

you furrow your brows. “wouldn’t you get toothpaste on my shirt?”

“how about the other way around?” 

you smile. “hmm... i like the sound of that.” 

he smiles back, pressing a kiss to your nose. “well okay then. five more minutes it is then.” 

you snuggle into his embrace, knowing very that he just spent the last five minutes trying to convince you to stay for five minutes more. 

gorou, childe, heizou, cyno, ayato, baizhu, diluc, zhongli, itto, kazuha, tighnari, venti, albedo

he suggests the two of you go for round two

he puts on a mischievous little grin, one you know is up to no good. “what if we ‘slept’ a little more and you called in sick?” 

his hand crawls down to your inner thigh, tracing teasing circles. “you’d be too sore to go to work anyways...you need to take care of yourself. what would your boss say if she saw you walking with a limp. hm? what do you say?”

you scoff at that. “i don’t think the solution you’re thinking of is going to help that.” 

he purses his lips, as if in deep contemplation. with his free hand, he grips your hips a little tighter to pull you back towards him. you stiffen in surprise at something hard pressing against the curve of your ass. his morning wood twitches. “are you sure? maybe you’re sore because you haven’t done the proper stretches yet. luckily for you, your precious boyfriend knows a couple ways to get your hamstrings all loosened up. i could draw us a bath after... turn on some music... maybe go again? doesn’t that sound good?”

you chuckle. “you’re impossible.”

he presses a soft, open-mouth kiss to the crook of your neck. “only with you, love.” 

scaramouche, kaeya, ayato, childe, kazuha, thoma, tighnari

[synthetickitsune]

Mingyu (SVT) | Late night walk comfort | 0.7k | gn!reader

He finds you lying down on your bed, windows wide open and the cool night air flowing in.

“If it was safe, if I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow, I’d be out there. Walking, wandering,” you explain. Your voice sounds calm but you’re anything but. Call it his sixth sense, but he knows.

“I can help with the first one,” Mingyu gives you a soft smile, “And for the second… I could call in for you? Be your witness that you’re not feeling well? That wouldn’t work right…” 

You smile and it breaks his heart. The moisture collecting in the corner of your eyes carves deeper lines into the cracks.

“It’s okay,” you close your eyes, “I’m just sad.”

He can see that, but he’s helpless as to how he can help. He goes over the day - was there something to cause this? He goes over the whole week in his head, but he can’t come up with anything that could trigger this state. Not like it’s that simple. He knows sometimes it just happens. But he wishes it wouldn’t. He wishes that there always was something concrete, something that he could protect you against.

He takes a seat next to you, slowly stroking the top of your head.

“We can go for a short walk if you’d like,” he offers, still hopeful despite everything. He knows it’s not worth it - it’s late, before you put on clothes, shoes, then change and shower again, you’ll just spend more time with all that than the actual walk.

“It’s fine. It’s late anyway and going home too soon would just make me feel worse and more hopeless,” you sigh. While he’s not completely convinced, he lets it go. It’s better to trust you on this anyway.

He lays down, watching your face for reaction as he pulls you closer and wraps his body around yours. He feels reassured when you turn to lay on your side and snuggle closer to him.

“I’ll be fine,” you mumble into his chest, “I just need to rest. I need a vacation.”

He perks up. Mingyu knows it’s gonna take a lot of effort and planning to make it work but a nice long vacation, just the two of you, sounds like something he wouldn’t mind toiling endlessly for. 

“You’re working too hard,” he says while rubbing your back, “I’m surprised you’re not talking about work while you sleep.”

“You wouldn’t know anyway, you sleep like a log,” you grumble. He can’t refute that, so he just chuckles.

“I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice,” his voice softens, “Somewhere you won’t need to worry about anything at all.”

“I’ll have to worry about you,” you tilt your head up with a tired smile, “That you’ll wander off and get lost, beating girls off with a stick and stuff.”

He pouts, however happy he is to see you smile, he pouts deeply and whines. He knows you’ll do just what you do - pull him in for a kiss. He breaks into a wide smile when your lips meet his. It doesn’t last long before you cuddle up to him again but it’s enough.

“We should sleep,” you state. You always say that around this time. Only usually it’s laughing because you’re too in love with him to just cut your time with him short, or sulking because you want to watch one more episode. Not dejected like you’re giving up. And Mingyu still has no idea how to help.

“Sometimes sleep helps,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but sleep and hope for the best.

He murmurs a goodnight into your hair and gets equally soft a response from you. He’s not entirely happy with the day ending like this. And it’s not like either of you will fall asleep any time soon.

He uses that time to think - how can he help? How can he lift even a little bit of the burden off your shoulders?

He falls asleep troubled by his helplessness and he doesn’t realize that he holds you too tight in his sleep. Or that you’re grateful; that it’s the only reason you fall asleep at all.

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 4 - Next

"I really hope Lin doesn't come to check on you, she'll kill me."

You said, sighing and gently applying cream to Curly's face, neck, and collarbone, as it was red from sun exposure after you had fallen asleep in the meadow until a light drizzle woke you up to return to the house. 

Curly: "I don't think so... She'll understand."

"Pfft, yeah right, I'm going to be horribly scolded by her if she finds out, she was always strict with me." 

Curly: "It seems like we're not talking about the same person."

"Of course we don't, you talk about the one who was your fiancée, I talk about my older sister."

Those words lingered in his mind, unwilling to understand that the woman he had met could be so different with him than with her own family. 

Curly: "...How have she been?"

"Mm... She has two children, Mike and Agatha, aged 20 and 15, they are good kids, she is married to Jake, he isn't home much because of his job, but he earns well, they all seem to be happy. Mike left home at 15 anyway, but he keep in contact" 

It certainly hit him hard to know the age of the eldest son, thinking there was an extraordinary chance.

Curly: "Let's say... Mike, how does it look?"

It piqued your curiosity when he asked that, until you put the pieces together. 

"Mike isn't yours, don't worry, he's an exact copy of Jake, even with the same allergies. Trust me"

Curly: "Then I should have been in cryostasis a bit longer... Isn't that right?"

"Didn't those capsules only last 20 years? They found you before the energy ran out."

Curly: "Maybe there was a miscalculation-"

"Lin said you had 2 months left in that capsule, if they found you later you would be dead." 

Curly: "Maybe someone-!"

You were startled when he suddenly approached you, you could see the nerves and desperation in his eye, along with his agitated breathing.

Curly: "If the boy is 20... That means she..."

"...I'm very sorry that... The person you thought you knew wasn't really as perfect as you thought..." 

You shrugged, looking at the ground, not knowing how to console him upon learning that his fiancée, while he was doing his delivery job, had been cheating on him with someone else, with whom she later married after he didn't return. 

In that instant, Curly realized something: all the effort, everything he had achieved, the ladder that had cost him so much to climb to the top, simply crumbled in a second.

You heard him start to laugh, or maybe sob, it was a strange mix of sounds he was producing. 

Curly: "I have nothing left... I can start over-"

"Okay, you're scaring me— I don't know if you're happy or sad—" 

Curly: "I don't know either!" he said, letting out a laugh. 

"I'll go get your pills and water." 

You got up from your seat to go get that, but you stopped when you heard someone knock on the door. 

You sighed, running your hand over your face. 

"It's like she have an alarm and it knows when I do something..." 

You knew very well that he was waiting behind the door, so you went to open it trying to put on your best face. 

Mike: "Hey, aunty" 

What a surprise you got when you saw your nephew with his mother; the boy took a step forward to give you a hug, which you reciprocated. 

"What are you doing here?"

Mike: "Mom told me you were back in town, so I came to see you, can I come in?"

Linda: "Come on, remember there's someone else here, I have to talk to (Y/n)"

The boy rolled his eyes without looking at his mother, as if to say "I didn't ask you" while he walked into the house. 

Linda: "I hope you're not doing the same thing Dad used to do and giving him his pills with chocolate."

You crossed your arms, looking at her in silence, you weren't going to admit that you almost did it once, but then you retracted and you gave him all his medications with a glass of water and maybe a candy if it felt too bitter in his mouth. 

Linda: "Of course," she ran her hand over her face, "You love giving people placebos, you always do the same thing."

"Just so you know, that's how your children learned to swallow pills without fear." 

Linda: "Don't you think what you're doing is horrible? The medications are wasted in your hands."

"I'm not stupid! I haven't done that in years! Stop treating me like a child!"

Linda: "Stop acting like one then!" 

She took you by the arm to pull you outside so you could continue arguing, closing the door so nothing could be heard from inside. 

Curly: "...I had never heard her scream..."

He mentioned sitting in the dining room with the boy in front of him. 

Mike: "That's how she is, she has a nice personality with people outside, but when it comes to family, she scolds you a lot." 

They both stared at each other for a moment, until the boy rested his face in his hand, smiling at him.

Mike: "So you are the famous Curly, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

Curly: "You must be Mike"

Mike: "The same, my mom used to tell me about you, saying that I was your son, that was a great story until I started having suspicions, and at 15 I found out I was the biological son of the man she is married to."

Curly: "Why would she lie about something like that?"

Mike: "Why? So they don't think she was slut, that she got married because she got pregnant, she lied to everyone saying it was your baby, and they believed her. When I was born and you didn't come back, then she could do and say whatever she wanted." 

The man fell silent, thinking about what kind of person he was going to marry, and how he couldn't see through her and notice her deceit. 

Curly: "I was... Used to seeing the image in general..." 

Mike: "At least you got saved, and I'm glad my aunt is taking care of you, she's great, right?" 

Curly: "She is... extravagant, to say the least." 

Both were startled when they heard the door slam open.

Linda: "Mike! We should leave now, darling." 

"Get out of here already! Don't even think about coming back!"

The difference in voices was very striking, one so calm and the other so agitated.

The boy said goodbye to Curly by waving his hand side to side and got up to leave with his mother, despite not liking the idea. 

Once again, the door slammed shut, and a muffled scream was heard; you had taken a pillow from the couch to scream into it and not make too much noise. 

Curly sat there, not knowing what to do or say about it, until he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen, leaving a glass of water and the pills for that schedule. 

You were standing next to him, your head turned in another direction, wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't take the pills on his own. 

You sighed, taking a seat and helping him take the pills. Then he could see it, the red mark on your cheek. 

"You just need to continue with some medications for a couple more months and then you won't have to keep taking all these horrible things." 

Curly: "When I am self-sufficient... What will happen?"

"I guess I'll leave," you shrugged. 

Curly; "Oh"

It was the only thing he said, he wanted to say many more things but, he couldn't, so he just decided to accept the solitary fate that sheltered him. 

[awriternamedart]

"How do you do it, gambler?"

Aventurine glanced up from the drink in his hand, an identical one clutched tightly in Dr. Ratio's.

"Do what?"

"Maintain a relationship."

Aventurine blinked, before his head shot up again to look at the doctor. Veritas didn't even spare him a glance, eyes glued to the scene in front of them— a grand IPC ball, held for investors and connections to be made. It was always a busy and grand event, one the Intellegensia Guild had to attend to maintain the IPC's investment.

It really wasn't Dr. Ratio's scene, but he had been chosen as their representative anyway.

"I'm not particularly adept at that, my dear doctor." Aventurine chuckled, watching the alcohol swirl in his glass.

"You are far more able then I am. Even upon falsities and fake promises, you managed to chat and converse with people in a sort of ease," Ratio slowly tore his eyes away from the crowd, glancing back to Aventurine before his eyes dropped to the floor in front of him. "..Its admirable."

Aventurine could just barely process what Dr. Ratio was exactly saying— direct praise?? From the good doctor himself???— before Veritas set down his now-empty drink on a bypassing waiters tray.

"Do you ever feel.. second-rate?"

Aventurine paused, taking another languid drink as he contemplated. It wasn't often the dear doctor opened up— he should tread carefully.

"I can't say for sure. Why?" He kept his tone even, trying not to distract from Veritas' thoughts. It was hard enough to get to know him in the first place, to squander his trust like this would be a waste.

The Doctor took a deep breath, practically hiding himself in the shadows of one of the many grand pillars decorating the room.

"I am not adept at conversation."

Aventurine could agree with that. Something about the doctor made it difficult to respond in kind— he was dry, a vague bit brutish, and if Aventurine dared, a little bullheaded. He seemed so sure of himself, founded confidence that was backed up by his many achievements. It was a little intimidating for the average person, he supposed. But as he looked on, that sort of Dr. Ratio seemed to fade ever so slightly, leaving behind someone who was still sure in his knowledge and discoveries— but struggled nonetheless.

"I find people.. grating, sometimes. But connection is one of the few necessities of livelihood, and so I try to converse with my peers as often as possible. It is.. difficult. It often feels as if they have no interest in what I am saying, neither asking questions nor inquiring further, and when I try to do so to show interest in their research, they often retreat back, saying it is not finished or the such. Offering to help only ever seems to drive them further away." Taking out the laurel clip in his hair, Veritas' thumb drifted over the gilded leaves, the polish in the finish reflecting his face back at him. "Despite my best efforts, I rarely ever follow up because I fear I intimidate them. I have seen them recoil at the mere sight of me."

Aventurine could just watch on in surprise— Veritas had never shown an inkling of this before. When he had first gotten to know the doctor, he had assumed Veritas simply didn't work with his peers due to a difference in dedication, or perhaps view. He was among the brightest and best in the Intellegensia Guild, always praised behind his back for being one of their stars.

Perhaps that wasn't the front Veritas had put up at all. Perhaps it was what Veritas was forced to wear in the face of his peers, forced to be seen as the cold unobtainable, the pinnacle of what they should be.

Being on a pedestal like that, it must be lonely.

"Do you not go drinking with your coworkers or something?" Aventurine leaned against the wall, cold of the stone seeping through his suit. Veritas glanced up at him, before looking back down.

"..I was never invited. It is against social convention to come along if you aren't invited, isn't it? I'd rather not strain and worry them more. It could impact them negatively if I were to come along and invite stress to what is supposed to be a time they unwind." He turned the laurel over in his hand. "..perhaps I missed my opportunity."

The light of the pedestal Dr. Ratio sat on seemed to blind all those who looked at it from underneath. They couldn't see his face, only his back— but as Aventurine leaned against the wall, gazing at the doctor in front of him, he got that different perspective.

There was.. resignation, in his eyes.

"Perhaps I am just doomed to be a looming figure above many. And yet, I'll still never be enough." His voice tapered off slightly, head dropping even just that hint bit more. "I am fully aware how much others are compared to me, and I hear them speak of my achievements behind my back. I wish they would stop, if I am being honest. Or at least tell me of my praise directly."

That surprised Aventurine.

"What, do people not give you a compliment or two? For someone so easy on the eyes and as esteemed as you, doctor, I find that hard to believe!" He chuckled— but it quickly faded out as Veritas looked to the side.

"Not often do I get comments directly on my achievements, no. Nor on my appearance, before you came along." He sighed. "You are.. the only person who does so."

The only one who's tried.

-

The Only One Whos Tried - awriternamedart

[warping-realities]

A Night in the Devil's Den - Part I

“I still think we should hit up somewhere else, Jamie. There are tons of bars that would look the other way and let us grab a few drinks.” One of the three young men passing through New York during college break said as they made their way to the old building housing the Devil’s Den, apparently the most hyped club in the city, which had a strict policy of keeping anyone under 21 out.

“Stop being such a fag, Fred! We’re gonna get in, trust me, man of little faith.” Jamie, the group leader with light brown hair, same color as Mark, shot back. Fred, on the other hand, was blond, and more sensitive, which didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own when it came to arguing; on the contrary, the debate skills of the former debate team captain were legendary.

“Chill, Fred. The worst that can happen is the bouncer looks at the IDs that Jamie’s buddy hooked us up with and realizes we don’t have the right age and kicks us out. But I doubt that’ll happen; in a few months, we’ll all be 21.” Mark commented, always the peacemaker.

“Another reason to wait until we’re actually of age. I don’t want any trouble, guys.” Fred tried to argue again.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here to chicken out, man. If you wanna bail, I’m cool, but think about all the work I put into getting these IDs. And I didn’t even charge you guys!” Jamie grumbled.

“That’s just because your buddy did it for free, asshole. Who the hell is he, anyway?” Mark jumped in before things got heated between the two.

“Some dude I met at the hostel; he’s the one who told me about this place. Apparently, this is the spot for anyone looking for a good time.”

“You mean you trusted someone you barely know? Doesn’t that seem kinda sketchy to you?” Fred asked, outraged, totally shooting down Mark’s efforts.

“I’m sick of your attitude, man! If you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just head back to the hostel?”

“Hey, hey, chill out, you two! We’re here to have a good time! Fred, let’s check out the place, and if we don’t like it or they kick us out, we’ll head back to the hostel, and I promise I’ll be your wingman with those hot Italian chicks who showed up yesterday, alright? And Jamie, you dumbass, he’s not entirely wrong; it was pretty stupid to trust a stranger, but it’s done now, so let’s just try to have fun, please?” Mark chimed in again.

“Fine, but you know that your parents would kill us if anything goes south, Mark.” Warne Fred, whose parents had already passed away, and, in Jamie’s opinion, was the last one who should be worried instead of acting like a little pussy. Not that he’d say that, at least not now that his buddy finally decided to man up.

“Finally acting like a man, Fred, and not like a little bitch!”

“Hey, man, that’s enough!”

“Chill out, Mark; you’re starting to sound like your dad. Sorry, Fredster, I just want an unforgettable night with my best buds.” Jamie said, hugging Fred on one side to encourage him while Mark did the same on the other.

As they approached the ridiculously long entrance line, Jamie commented.

“Since we’re talking about those hot Italian girls, it’s funny that if we were in most other countries, we wouldn’t even need to convince Fred here; we’d all be of age to drink until we drop without a care in the world.”

“I don’t think your dad would be too happy about hauling his kid from the gutter.” Mark remarked.

“He’s not as strict as your dad, man, but yeah… maybe it’s best not to push it. Damn, look at this line! No way I’m waiting all this crap! Oh, wait, I just remembered something; follow me!” Jamie said, signaling for his friends to follow him to the front of the line, where a huge black guy, looking like a muscle mountain, was running the door, checking IDs and occasionally greeting a buddy with a half-smile in his otherwise stern face. He saw the guys approaching and crossed his arms, giving them a menacing smirking look.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?”

“Good evening, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and, said… said that he hopes you have a… a hell of a night.” Jamie said, sounding unsure for the first time.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” Mark replied, handing over the fake IDs, which the guy scrutinized for a few seconds.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed someone before handing the IDs back to the guys and cracking a smile. “Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

As they stepped into the spacious lobby, the guys were hit with the sounds of music and excited screams, along with flashing lights. And the most impressive thing of all was a guy with olive skin, well-groomed beard and black hair, and a distinctive aquiline nose that hinted at some mediterranean ir middle eastern heritage. But what really stood out about the guy was his stunning build, partially covered by a sharp suit and shiny black pants, with his muscular torso on display for anyone who wanted to see, staring at them with disconcerting eyes and a mischievous grin that made the three feel like they were really inside the Devil’s Den.

“Dude, they really know how to set a mood.” Jamie remarked, eyeing the imposing figure. “Alright, first drinks, then we hit the dance floor for the hot chicks!”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom; my bladder’s about to explode!” Fred said.

“Then it’s a wonder you didn’t piss yourself from fear before we even got in.”

“Go fuck yourself, Jamie!” he shot back, irritated, as he blended into the crowd on the dance floor.

“You really can’t pass up a chance to be an idiot, can you?” Mark commented, following his other friend through the crowd. “Let me talk to him; you do something useful and grab the drinks. You know a few shots will loosen him up.”

“It’s not my fault he needs booze to stop being a little bitch.” Jamie yelled to be heard over the noise, turning heads with expressions of disbelief toward him, but he was too hyped about the night’s promises to notice, heading for the nearest bar, closely followed by the sinister figure from the entrance. It wasn’t until he reached the bar that he noticed the company.

“Hello, James.” The man said over the cacophony, though his voice didn’t need to rise for Jamie to hear him.

“How do you know my name?” Jamie shouted back.

“Jerome gave me a heads-up about your arrival; I’m Mr. Shay the manager of this place. And I know you shouldn’t be here tonight, kid.”

“Damn… then why didn’t you stop us at the door?”

“Because I understand the need for a young man to rebel. Especially when his dad is such a major buzzkill.” The man said with bright eyes.

“I… he just wants what’s best for me… a decent job for a real man and… and sometimes it’s a drag.” Jamie replied in a whisper, not realizing the man knew way more about him than he should.

“Oh, I get it, kid, and just when you finally have a chance to chill, your friends leave you hanging.”

“Pussies!” The kid grumbled, not seeing the man’s eyes flash dangerously.

“You seem to have a problem with gay people. What’s that about?”

“I don’t have a problem with gays; I have issues with little faggots, those sissy boys who take it up the ass like they’re chicks. My dad raised me to be a real man.”

“But it’s tough living under the weight of other people’s expectations, under the rigid standards taught by someone, isn’t it? Sometimes all you wanna do is chill out, let loose, and be happy, right? And have your friends be able to enjoy that with you.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s settled! Poncho, a shot of tequila for my buddy here.” The man said as the spell seemed to break while he glided through the crowd with ease, almost floating, and for an instant if one looked closely one would catch a glimpse of his true form.

Still a bit dazed, Jamie turned to the bar and bumped into a Latino guy in his late thirties, with a chiseled, muscular chest completely exposed except for a bow tie around his neck, sipping a drink while the shot of tequila the other guy ordered was held in his hand.

“On the house.” The guy said with a smile. Without thinking twice, Jamie downed the shot.

“Nice one, hermano.” The man commented, grinning.

“Gracias, tio.” Jamie replied, smiling as he left the bar with a dreamy look.

There was definitely something extra in that tequila, Jamie’s rational side thought, a side that seemed to shrink more every minute. He wandered aimlessly through the crowd, seeing colors and smelling scents he’d never experienced before, while that rational side tried in vain to shout inside his head, drowned out by an overwhelming numbness.

“Mierda, que guapo…” he murmured in Spanish, watching a muscular guy dancing shirtless. Without even stopping to think how out of character that was for him.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, with an unspeakable desire taking hold of him, making him vibrate and tremble inside he made his way toward the guy, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, Javier, the latino 21 years old man, approached the older man.

“Hey, papi, want some company?” He asked with a vacant look and dreamy voice that the other guy didn’t seem to notice, and in a few seconds, they were both dancing to the rhythm of the music.

“So, kid, where you from?”

“Right here, raised in El Barrio.” Javier answered.

“But where did your family come from?”

“My grandparents came with my dad and my uncles from Colombia in the early 90s. Maybe you know my uncle. He works as a bartender here; they call him Poncho, even though he’s not Mexican, but he says he doesn’t care.”

“Oh, so that’s why a kid like you is in here.” The man commented.

“I’ll show you who’s the kid.” Javier replied, kissing the man, who returned the kiss with passion.

Neither of them seemed to notice that the kid’s shirt seemed to evaporate in the air or the inches he gained in height or the facial hair sprouting on his face. After a long moment of pleasure, the two pulled away.

“So, papi, am I man enough for you?” Javi asked with a grin, while the other guy stared at him, breathless.

“Now I gotta bounce; my shift’s about to start!” Javi said, walking with a smile toward the bar. His muscles growing and expanding into an athletic, well-proportioned physique, with just the bow tie of his uniform to cover up.

“Hey, you didn’t even tell me your name, boy!”

“If you want to find me, just head to the bar. And don’t call me boy; do I look like a kid to you?” He replied, flexing his muscles. Only a man could call him that, and that certainly wasn’t this one.

When he got to the bar, his uncle greeted him with a smile but also with a warning.

“If your dad finds out about this…”

“What my dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, tio. Plus, next year I’ll be graduating, and the boss is gonna put me to work in accounting, although I think I’ll still take a few shifts with you just for fun.”

“Javi, you really don’t get it, do you? If not your dad, then because of that musclehead you’re seeing.”

“It’s his fault for not showing up yet. And right when the main attraction’s about to start.” He said, looking at the club’s stage lighting up. “Though to him no attraction compares to my ass.” He concluded with a grin.

[lexi-writes-alot]

Kissing Ban

Pairing: TASM Spider-Man x Fem reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Peter gets a few minor cosmetic injuries and you don’t want to aggravate them

Warnings: Slight mentions of injuries at the beginning, maybe alluding to smut at the end.

A/N: I've had this sitting in my drafts for quite some time now. It’s finally time for it to see the light of day! I don’t have much else to say. This could totally be read for any of the Peter’s but I’m biased.

Peter had just come through his bedroom window, wearing his Spider-Man suit, the mask off revealing the cuts on his lower lip, and eyebrow. A sigh escaped his lips before he walked over to the desk.

Knocking on the door you check in saying.

“Hey Peter are you decent? Can I come in?”

Peter sighs as he hears a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

"Come in." He chimed. When you opened the door, Peter was sitting down at the desk still in his suit after his patrol, you laugh to yourself at the sight. He looked up at you as you walked in, exposing his cuts to you with a big smile affixed to his face.

"What's so funny?" The grin never left his face.

"Your face," your voice was muddled with concern, demeanor immediately changing the second you saw the injuries. You rushed over, cupping his face and examining the damage. Peter let out a soft chuckle as you examined the cuts. He put both his hands on your head as you checked out his injuries; he trusted you enough to let you do this.

“It's fine, it'll heal." He spoke gently to you as you inspected his afflictions. He was glad to have you here, taking care of him right now. However, his protestation did nothing to ease your worries

“Your poor beautiful face! It’s ruined.” You try to joke and lighten up the mood. Peter smiled at your attempt to cheer him up. He knew you were only concerned for his safety. He placed his arms around you and pulled you up into his lap, so you could keep your hands on his face.

"It's not ruined." He spoke gently, as he placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull your chest to his. The heat of his body was radiating to yours. You knew what he was doing, you also knew it was going to work, but you’d like to have some fun first.

"I know what game you're playing! If I kiss you, it’s going to make your cuts worse. You need to be put on a kissing ban for a bit until these have a chance to heal up," you say, gently tracing the cuts on and around his lips, playing your own game.

"Oh, come on!" Peter protests, a mischievous smirk on his face as he playfully protests against the kissing ban. "A kiss ban!" he exclaims with a hint of mock indignation. He doesn’t really mind if the kisses worsen his cuts; after all, that was why you were there. It wasn’t like the kisses were going to make him bleed out. Leaning into your touch as you caressed his cuts, trying to coax you into giving in and kissing him anyway.

With a dismissive "Nope, not happening!" you snort at his expression, teasing him with a playful pout. In response, Peter pouts and pretends to be offended, mirroring your expression.“Nope, not happening!” You snort at his facial expression, mocking him with a pout. Peter pouted and pretended to be offended with a fake pout.

"But, but…" He was beginning to sound like he was pleading for a kiss, even though he wasn't serious. He smiled at you, hoping you'd understand that he simply wanted to kiss you. He couldn’t resist you in that moment; he longed for the feeling of your sweet lips.

“But what?” You cross your arms, making an effort to put some distance between your chests.

As Peter chuckled softly, he realized that his attempt at a pout wasn't going to persuade you to kiss him. With a determined expression in his eyes, he turned on the charm, hoping to bridge any gap between you. Closing in on you, he leaned in until his chest was against your folded arms, locking eyes with you in an intimate, intense gaze.

"Right now, I really want you to kiss me," he said in a soft, longing voice.

"Ah, so now you've found your words, huh?" you remarked, tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. Tapping your cheek thoughtfully, a sly smile played on your lips as you pretended to mull over his question. Slowly rising to your feet, you took a few measured steps back, increasing the physical distance between you as if to emphasize your contemplation.

Peter was starting to lose patience with your games. He didn’t like being teased for so long; he just wanted your lips on him. He followed you as you stepped backward, moving close again. He smirked at your tapping of the cheek as if you were seriously thinking about it.

"Hey, you know you can’t resist me," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye as his face drew closer to yours.

"Well, I guess I could spare one kiss," you say with a mischievous smile. You lean in slowly, observing the way his eyes close in anticipation. As he closes his eyes, you lean in and give him a quick, gentle peck on the cheek, savoring the warmth of the moment. You then turn away, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the bed, where you sit down and let the moment linger in the air.

Peter slowly opened his eyes and watched as you walked away. A hint of disappointment spread across his face. He spoke up, his tone tinged with annoyance, before following you to the bed.

"Is that it? Is that all the kiss I get?" he said as he approached you coming to a stop before your seated figure.

"What? You said you wanted a kiss, so I graciously kissed you," you say dramatically with your arms before leaning back on them and looking up at him. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatic nature of your words. He simpered and let out a hearty laugh before speaking.

"That wasn’t the kiss I was expecting." He said with a smirk on his face, as he bent over you, placing his hands by either side of your waist on the bed. He looked into your eyes as he spoke. "I was expecting a bit more…"

“Enlighten me, what were you expecting.” You continue to tease him sinking a bit further into the mattress.

"You know, the passionate movie-type kiss…" He loomed over you. You knew exactly what he was talking about. He leisurely lowered himself towards you, close enough so that you could feel his breath on your face. He spoke softly just above a whisper, "You know… The kiss where I just melt for you?" Emphasizing the last words with a whisper, he smirked again. His words sent goosebumps up your arms. He's practically pinned you in place on the bed, leaving no escape.

“Woah man can we talk about this?” You say in a goofily, laying flat on the bed. Peter chuckled, hearing you attempt a joke just to try to get away from him. This just made him want you more now. He was enjoying every moment of this teasing, and it was showing through his beaming grin. He continued to speak in an alluring voice as he looked deep into your eyes.

"We can talk later…" Peter slid one of his hands to the back of your neck, holding it gingerly so that you would look into his eyes, which were full of desire. He used his other hand to steady himself as he brought you closer to him. Your bodies were pressed up against each other now as you lay on the bed.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension. You could tell that Peter was enjoying this game but you were also enjoying yourself too. His words, his touches, his body heat, it all compounded, having a powerful effect on you. You were practically melting under his gaze, and you couldn't resist him any longer. "Later?" You finally managed to squeak, in the small space where your breaths mingled.

Peter smirked at the sound of your response. He knew he had you right where he wanted. He could see the desire in your eyes as you spoke. He could feel it in your body language as you leaned up into him.

"Later." He muttered as his eyes traveled down to your lips and lingered on them. “Right now I think I need my fix of you." His voice dulcet and seductive, full of desire and need. Your bodies were pressed together, your hearts beating rapidly in your chests. You couldn’t resist him any longer, and he knew it. His words were successively disintegrating any defenses you had left, and you could feel yourself melting under his touch. “Peter…” You spoke his name breathlessly, your voice barely a whisper.

You were not capable of denying his demand any longer. The desire coursing through your body had taken over completely. Closing the gap, you pushed your body into his, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. It was akin to fireworks going off inside of you, everything he was doing right now was making you want him even more. His hand unhurriedly dragged from the bed to your waist, pining you to him as the kiss deepened.

[laaailuh]

Best-friends Brother pt.2🕸️🕷️

╰┈➤ PART 1

pairing: e!42 miles x black!reader

warnings : light swearing

Summary: After hanging out with your best friend's brother for weeks, you unexpectedly get caught.

a/n: love this trope, wish this for me 🙏🏽

You pulled away from the kiss, “I should start getting ready to leave… it's getting late.”

“But you just got here mami.”

“I got here 2 hours ago.”

“One more hour…please.”

“Miles-” Before you could say anything else, he started to kiss your neck which caused you to rest your hands on top of his cornrows.

“If you keep doing that you're gonna leave a mark.”

He ignored your comment.

“Nigga did you hear what I said?”

“Can’t you cover it up with makeup or something?”

You rolled your eyes, “Kayla might come home soon, we should stop anyways.”

“I thought we agreed to tell her?”

“We didn't agree on that.”

Miles started to get annoyed, he wanted to take this further but every time he brought it up, you continually made up excuses to avoid talking about it.

“Ight.”

He stood up from the bed and sat on his gaming chair.

“Are you mad?”

“Nah.”

You walked towards him, “Trust me, I do want to tell her but I’ve known Kayla since middle school. Everything could possibly change after this, she may not want to talk to me again Miles.”

He turned to face you, “Y/n, if she truly cared and loved you, she would accept your choices and decisions.”

“You know it's not that simple..”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Her best friend and her brother dating? That's not fucking simple.”

Miles looked down at his shoes, rubbing his face in frustration.

“Well…if you’re not actually going to put in effort to make this work…then I guess we should stop this now huh?”

“I didn't say that, you know I want to make this work just as much as you.”

You sat back on the bed “It’s just difficult…I’m trying not to mess up the relationships I have with the both of you.”

He looked back at you, acknowledging that he might have been a bit harsh and too pushy.

“Look im sorry alright, we can talk to her when you’re ready okay? This sneaking around shit is just tiring as fuck.” Miles said, sitting on the bed next to you.

You smiled at him, “I thought you liked the excitement?”

“I do but I don't want to be each other's secret anymore you know?”

You sighed, “Yeah, I know.”

He then tilted your face up and kissed you.

However, during the argument you guys had, both of you failed to realize that Kayla got home two minutes ago and was heading straight to Miles’s room.

“Yo, I got a pizza-” she stood there in shock as you guys broke away from the kiss.

“Kayla…”

“The fuck is going on here?"

[obsessive-valentine]

Dark-Yandere!Farmer X GN!Reader (Asks)

I swear I’ve got another fic in the working (for Farmer yan) and some other HC’s in the works, sorry I’ve been MIA life got a bit busy. Thx for the asks❤️

He gets a little annoyed which only proves darlings point, but he catches himself before it goes too far. He quickly replies with “Don’t do anything stupid enough to get me angry then?” His tones defensive and condescending, the conversation is left there. Probably won’t change anything in the future, because once he’s angry there’s not much darling can do.

The problem with him is he knows that he has anger issues, he knows kidnapping and murder is wrong, he knows darling is scared of him. So when darling brings it up, it’s not new news, he’s just taken-a-back that darling has the gall to mention it. In his own way he tries to protect darling from himself by putting them in the shed when he’s inconsolably angry, when he can’t trust himself not to lay a hard hand on darling. But other than that the fear-mongering works so well to keep darling in place and he doesn’t get angry without reason... so why would he change ?

The reward of not getting chucked in the shed or shouted at for hours on end...

Seriously though he’d just be nicer to be around, and not so tense/stern. And if darlings been domesticated for a while and begin helping out with chores or aren’t a fight risk, they’d be rewarded with those paints they’ve been wanting or that video game they talk about. He begins to make an effort to meet them in them middle. It’s crossed his mind a few times to get you an animal just for yourself, something small that could live in the house with you like a cat or rabbit, that doesn’t belong to the farm and isn’t forbidden from coming inside the house so it can spend rainy days with you when he can’t.

He sends you to the barn most afternoons to busy yourself with the animals but he frequently checks up on darling, mostly just sticking his head in when he walks by but sometimes he also joins darling for a bit. Its one of those few times a genuine smile crosses his face, watching you adore on a baby animal.

If you were to keep interrupting him while he works by bringing the baby over to him, it doesn’t bother him, he likes talking with darling. He also doesn’t mind you sitting close by while he fixes that fence or follow him while he spreads hay around, happy to hear about whatever you have to say. At that point he wouldn’t have to bring out his radio because he has his own chatterbox following him carrying whatever animal they found cute that day. He’s good at multitasking (he does most the same chores day after day - it’s like second nature) so it’s no bother to hold a conversation while he works, darling would likely get bored or tired from walking so much and return to the barn anyways.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 7: Stray Kids bias wrecker - Jisung✨️

The Heat

AN: We have reached the end of my milestone celebration! Thank you to all of you, new and old, for your support. You have no idea how much it all means to me <3 Time to end this celebration off with my other other arch nemesis lol.

Synopsis: When your roommate brings home a bag of strange cookies, you two don't think much of it. Assuming whoever sold them to him was lying about them containing an aphrodisiac. You both quickly come to realise that you were very, very incorrect.

Heads up: Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Roommates AU, dub-con elements (because Reader and Jisung are under the influence of an aphrodisiac, but they do genuinely want each other), mentions of masturbation, dirty talk, nipple play (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little, Jisung cums pretty quickly, mentions of multiple orgasms, unrealistic sex (Jisung cums more than once and remains hard), hypersensitivity, some usage of a petname for Reader and a barely there praise kink (f. receiving).

Word count: 3658

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

"You'll never guess what I found!" Your roommate yells, all but slamming the front door open in his excitement.

"Hello to you too, Jisung," you respond dryly but, your curiosity is piqued. Angling yourself to get a better view of the brown paper bag in his grasp from your position on the couch.

"Sorry, hi. I'm just really hyped," he responds sheepishly, plopping down beside you, "but look!"

You're not sure what you were expecting, but a bag filled with cookies certainly wasn't it. "Uh, they look good?" You offer, not really understanding what makes these cookies in particular so special. The little pink hearts on them are very cute, you'll give them that much.

"No, no listen. These aren't just any old cookies. Minho and I stumbled across this kind of weird looking bakery, and the lady who runs it said these cookies are mixed with some really potent aphrodisiacs,"

Yeah, this is not how you anticipated your Saturday to unfold at all.

"So... you bought them from an apparently really shady bakery and just trusted what that lady said?"

Your words take a few seconds to register in his mind. Big eyes blinking at you owlishly. If he hadn't just admitted to something so stupid, you'd reach over to squish his cheeks because of how endearing he looks right now.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

It takes a great deal of effort on your part not to drag your hand down your face.

"Minho should really stop enabling all of your impulsive purchases and ideas,"

"To be fair, he was the one who dragged me into the bakery. I just happened to stumble across these," he says, motioning to the bag now staring at the two of you on your coffee table.

"My point still stands. Why did you buy so many anyway? Why not just get a few if you just wanted to test them out?"

"They were running a special," he mutters.

"I didn't realise you were this naive. I have some magic beans to sell you if you're interested," you tease, grinning as the tips of his ears redden.

"Ha ha ha. Very funny. They weren't that pricey anyway so, luckily I didn't spend much," he reaches for the bag, fishing out a cookie.

"Woah hey, what're you doing?"

"Eating the cookies I bought? Like you said, I'm sure they're a scam, so I might as well eat them since I spent money on them," he responds with a shrug. Your anxiety building watching him take his first bite.

"Oh, they're pretty good, actually. Want one?" He asks, turning his big brown eyes onto you. Now, how are you supposed to say no when he looks at you with those eyes?

"If these are poisoned or something, I swear I'm going to haunt you," you respond, and your roommate takes that as a green light.

"We'll both be ghosts then. I don't think ghosts can haunt each other," he says with a laugh, the brushes of his fingers against yours feeling like electricity as he hands you a cookie.

You choose to essentially shove the cookie in your mouth to avoid dealing with that particular can of worms. Jisung was right. They are delicious. Flavours of strawberry with faint hints of chocolate caressing your taste buds. Maybe they were worth turning into a ghost for if the worst comes to pass, you think.

"See? They're good, right?"

"Yeah, I can't even lie. That's one of the best cookies I've ever had. If we survive this, you should show this oddball bakery to me,"

"Oh," and you immediately regret admitting to him that you actually liked it, "how the tables have turned. What was that you were saying earlier about reckless purchases?"

Rolling your eyes, you stand up in order to get ready for bed. Jisung's smugness more than enough motivation to finally get your ass off the couch.

"Goodnight Jisung," you say, waving him off.

"Goodnight," you don't even need to turn around to see the smirk stretched across his face. You can hear it clear as day.

Everything feels like it's on fire when you wake up the following morning.

You're absolutely drenched in sweat and your throat is beyond dry. Perhaps the oddest realisation of all is that you're wet. As in, obscenely so. Your thighs are smeared in it and you're almost certain it's leaked all the way onto your bedsheets.

What the hell?

It takes you some very long minutes to blink your bleary eyes open. Your muddled mind working a mile a minute to try and make sense of all of this. Last night hadn't been that hot so, there should be no reason why you're this sweaty. Plus, from what you can remember at the very least, you hadn't touched yourself before turning in for the night. So why in the world are you this wet? And more than that, why does it hurt so much more than usual?

'What is going on?' Is that question that echoes through your skull as you join the world of the conscious. You're due for a shower and a change of sheets, you think. You feel pretty disgusting at the moment, and a shower might just be what you need to help calm you down. An ice cold one.

On perhaps the strangest morning you've experienced to date, you don't expect to bump into a shirtless Jisung with a towel wrapped around his slim waist.

You've seen your roommate without a shirt more times than you can count at this point. However, it's never made you feel like this before.

The throbbing gets worse. So, so much worse. Warmth flooding your face when you feel yourself gush onto the fresh pair of sleeping shorts you'd just changed into. Jisung is an attractive man. A very, very attractive man. You've had no qualms with admitting that in the most private parts of your mind and on nights when images of him between your thighs are the only thoughts that can push you off of the proverbial edge.

But it's never been like this.

"Morning," he says gruffly. God, that just made it worse. If you weren't too lost in your own spiral, you'd notice his blown out pupils and the glassy quality to his eyes. How they shamelessly rake over your body. How he has to adjust his hold on his towel so you don't notice how hard he is. How hard he's been for what feels like hours now.

"Morning," you squeak back in response once your higher order functions return to you. Practically slamming the bathroom door in his face and, sagging against it once you're alone.

What is wrong with you?

Taking a shower was minimally successful. At least you're no longer drenched in various body fluids, but you still feel as though there's molten lava coursing through your veins. Everything is just so hot.

Touching yourself while you were in there didn't help either. If anything, it only added fuel to the inferno that seems hell bent on swallowing you whole from the inside out. Maybe you're just in desperate need of a good fuck. It has been longer than you care to admit since you last slept with someone. That Changbin guy was nice and ridiculously attractive. Perhaps you should give him a call.

You're disrupted from your thoughts when you hear a tentative knock at your bedroom door. Jisung. Oh no, you're not sure if you can handle looking at him right now, let alone being in the same room with him. Your mind has been replaying the encounter from this morning over and over again. Even that hadn't helped you cum in a satisfactory way. Which is insane because thinking about him works 11 times out of 10. You must really need to be fucked.

However, you're not a child. You're not going to avoid your roommate and your friend just because you're a little (okay, maybe it's more than a little) more sexually frustrated than usual. You're more mature than that.

"Come in," you say, cringing at the hoarseness in your voice.

To your relief (and mild disappointment), Jisung has a shirt on. Though, the way the tank top leaves his broad shoulders and biceps completely uncovered isn't helping the to soothe the squirming of your insides.

Jisung looks exactly how you feel: like a total wreck. His hair is in dissary and sticking to his damp forehead and his cheeks are flushed with an appealing dust of pink. You wonder if this is what he'd look like underneath you.

"What's up?" You croak, looking at your bedroom door as though it's the most interesting object you've ever seen. He may have a shirt on, but you're not sure you can handle looking at him for too long right now. For both of your sakes.

"Does it feel hot as fuck for you today too? I don't know what's been going on, but I already took two showers today, and I still feel like I might pass out from heat stroke," he says, making himself comfortable on your bed. While not out of the oddinary, having him so close to you is sending your barely coherent mind into panic. The desire to straddle his incredibly welcoming looking lap clawing at your insides.

"Yeah, it does feel a lot hotter than usual today. Maybe there's a ventilation issue or something in our place? Because I checked the weather and it the temperature for the day is on the cooler side, funnily enough," you respond, wiping some excess sweat off of your forehead. So, you're not the only one who seems to feel...off, weird even today. Whatever is happening appears to be affecting Jisung too.

"Really? That's so weird. I thought maybe there was a heat wave or something. I don't know how much more of this I can take," he sighs, throwing himself down. The bottom of his tank top exposing a sliver of his toned abdomen. Fuck.

Before your mind can assault you with fantasies of covering his abs in your wetness, that's when it hits you. Those damn cookies. They have to be the reason you're like this and that you suspect Jisung is experiencing something very similar.

"Jisung, I think I know why we're feeling so hot right now," you rush out, fingers absentmindedly toying with your blanket.

"Really? Well, I'm all ears," he responds, turning to give you all of his attention.

Fuck, how did you not realise it sooner? Jisung's eyes are almost black with how dilated his pupils are. Desire flashing like a neon sign on his face.

You really can't afford to soak through another pair of shorts right now. Focus.

"I think the cookies - I think the cookies weren't a scam," you mutter, hugging your legs to your chest. Your face is so warm that you're surprised the heat from it isn't radiating off of you.

He just keeps looking at you. You know the moment your words sink in because his face quickly shifts from a pretty, pink flush to an almost scarlet red. His mouth opening and closing as he grapples with what to even say to you.

"What? What makes you think that?" It's his turn to squeak and avoid your gaze. Seemingly fascinated with your ceiling.

"What else could it be? We both had them yesterday, and now we're sweating buckets and -" You cut yourself off. Jisung doesn't need to know you've been wet all day. You should probably keep that part to yourself.

However, the universe is determined to make you suffer, "And what?" He asks, meeting your eyes briefly before turning away. His teeth toying with his bottom lip.

"It-It's fine. Don't worry about it, but, um just trust me. I really think those cookies are the reason we're like this," You stutter out, studiously ignoring the lecherous thoughts creeping back into your mind.

Jisung doesn't say anything at first. Just laying there before sitting up once more, his hand ruffling his hair, "I wasn't kidding when I said I don't know much of this I can take. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

That you can relate to. Intimately.

"The solution is pretty obvious," you joke in an attempt to lighten the thick tension in the air. It almost makes it difficult to even breathe properly.

Your words have the opposite effect, however. Startled, fiery brown eyes meeting your own. Jisung looks like he's seriously considering it, and you're not sure whether your stomach knots itself in hope or anxiety.

"Jisung, I was-"

"Do you want to?"

Now it's your turn to stare at him in stunned silence. Probably looking like an absolute buffoon gaping at him. Is he joking? Is this his way of getting back at you?

"Wha-What?" Comes your brilliant response.

"Do you want to?" He repeats, both looking and sounding deathly serious.

"You don't have to do this, you know. If you don't want to. We can j-"

"I want to," he interrupts again, his cheeks darkening, but he doesn't falter in his words.

Your very hot, very kind, very funny roommate is offering himself on a silver platter. Even if you weren't so wet you could die, you'd be an idiot to say no.

"Okay," you whisper, meeting his eyes head on. Your heart thundering against your chest as you watch him shift closer to you. Barely any space left between the two of you. You're not sure who moves first, and it ultimately doesn't matter because after months of fantasising about it, Jisung's mouth is finally on yours.

Maybe it's the cookies, but your first kiss isn't gentle or slow or sweet. It's fierce and messy and desperate from the very beginning. Your hands not sure where they want to settle themselves. Alternating between pulling on his hair, pulling the most delicious whimpers from him or steadying yourself on his muscular shoulders while you two fall deeper into each other.

The gasp that leaves your mouth when Jisung nestles himself between your thighs is loud and throaty. He's hard. So hard and so hot that you can feel the heat radiating from him even through your respective clothing. Jisung wastes no time in covering your throat and jaw in sloppy, uncoordinated kisses while he shallowly grinds his erection against you. Greedily searching for any semblance of relief he can possibly find.

"Ji-Jisung," you moan, arching into his touch when one of his hands gives your breast an experimental squeeze. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he groans against your neck between licks and nips, thumbing at your already hard nipple through your shirt.

"Re-Really?" You manage to ask through the fog. "Really," he responds, impatiently shoving your shirt up and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. To say you were unprepared for the sensation of being enveloped in his wet, warm mouth would be putting it lightly. You're so much more sensitive than usual. It might be the cookies, or it might just be Jisung. Probably a dangerous mixture of the two.

You've never cum just from having your breasts played with but, there's a first time for everything if the increasing wetness staining your shorts and inner thighs is any indication. Jisung, for his part, is content to spend hours with your tits in his face and in his mouth. Licking, sucking and fondling to his heart's content while he desperately humps your thigh. The dream, really.

He's about to whine when you tug him off of you, but he's shut up by your tongue being shoved down his throat. Your hands frantically pushing his tank top up and off of him until his bare torso is free for you to explore. Smiling into him when he whimpers at the way your nails rake across his skin. A pitchy 'fuck' greeting your ears when you accidentally brush one of his nipples. Oh. Interesting.

Kissing and touching him is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Jisung is fantastic with his mouth, and his firm chest is incredibly fun to explore. Figuring out which places garner you groans or whimpers or whines. Which ones make him grind into harder. Which leads to the other hand. You're so soaked and painfully empty, and kissing him isn't helping to soothe any of those flames.

"Jisung," you mutter against his mouth, your hands ghosting over the waistband of his sweats. Delighting in the way he shudders above you and his abdominal muscles jump under your barely there touches.

"Ye-Yeah?"

"I want you to fuck me, please," you whine into his ear, lightly biting down on his lobe, "it hurts."

Jisung exhales a very long sigh against your throat, "You're going to kill me."

A breathless laugh bubbles out of you when he pulls away to shove his sweats down. Any trace of humour vanishes quickly when his cock smacks against his toned stomach. He's so hard that it looks painful, flushed an angry shade of red, and glistening with pre-cum. You can't help but stare. Your walls clamping down harshly around nothing.

"I thought you wanted to get fucked?" He asks with an arrogant grin on his stupidly handsome face.

"Shut up," you respond, lifting your hips and letting your shorts join the heap of clothing on your bedroom floor. It's your turn to feel a little smug when Jisung's eyes zero in on your pussy. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life, and you're too far gone to have any semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment.

Jisung returns to his position between your thighs before you can fire out any quips, his cock nudging your entrance causing your head to spin and a soft moan to slip from you. "Stop teasing," you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging to his broad back.

"So-Sorry," is all the warning you receive before he very gradually starts sinking into you. god, it's never felt like this. Ever. With anyone else. Tears accumulate in your eyes, and a few roll down your face with every inch he pushes into you.

"Are you okay?" He asks lowly, kissing your cheek repeatedly and halting his movements.

"Yeah. Yes, Ji, I'm fine. Please don't stop," you practically moan, clawing into his back when he mumbles a curse and continues.

You can barely think, let alone breathe when he's fully sheathed inside of you. His cock pulsing inside of you violently and Jisung quivering above you, hushed moans of your name and whimpers being pressed into your shoulder. A whine hitting your ears when you squirm a little and tighten your hold around his waist.

"Wait, fuck. Wait, don't move," he moans, his hands grounding himself with his hold on your pillowy thighs. You struggle to comprehend his words. Everything is so muddled and overwhelming, and he just feels so fucking good, and he hasn't even moved yet.

At first, you assume Jisung's increase in sounds of pleasure and throbbing inside of you is just because he's as overwhelmed as you are. Every single nerve feeling like it's engulfed in flames. However, when his strained apologies register, you realise he came. Hot spurts of his cum flooding your eager pussy and open-mouthed kisses being pressed into your shoulder between apologies.

"Ji-Jisung,"

"I'm fuck I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. It just happened. Fuck you must think I'm so pathetic-"

"Jisung, stop. It-It's okay. That was really hot actually," you mutter, and you mean it. If anything, you're flattered that you managed to make him cum so fast.

"What? Really?" He asks, blinking down at him. His pretty eyes beyond fucked out and sweat dotting his face. God, he's so pretty. Your pussy clenching involuntarily.

"Yea- Wait, are you still hard?" You ask, only realising now that he's still nestled deeply inside of you despite the cum that's gradually starting to dribble out of you.

He looks as shocked as you. Seemingly not realising that his own cock hadn't softened in the slightest. "Holy shit," he breathes, thrusting into you experimentally, drawing a whimper and your nails biting into his back in reaction.

"Remind me to go back to that bakery," he utters into your throat. Giving you little time to adjust before picking up his pace considerably. Between your wetness and his cum, he fucks into you easily. Your combined noises of pleasure echoing throughout your bedroom while you two lose yourselves in one another.

You've been teetering on the edge for what feels like ages. All it takes is for Jisung to find your sweet spot for your eyes to roll into the back of your head and your back to arch into him. Your lovely, lovely roommate fucking you through it all and exploiting your newly discovered weakness.

"That's it, baby," he groans into your ear, his hands holding you firmly in place and making you take each and every thrust he gives you, "You're taking me so well. You're doing so good."

Those words are going to be replaying in your mind for the rest of your life.

Your mind is utterly blank as the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced wreaks your body. Your thighs shaking violently, and your hands holding onto Jisung for dear life while you tighten around him. Fuck. Fuck. You're so full, and it's so much, but not enough at the same time.

"More, please. Jisung, please. I want more," you cry out, not caring in the slightest about the pathetic, desperate edge to your voice. All you're capable of thinking about is cumming on his cock over and over again and, him filling you with his cum until it's still leaking out of you days later.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, the pet name he's grown a fondness for causing butterflies to arise in your stomach.

"We're far from being finished."

[nolita-fairytale]

what it would be like meeting mikey berzatto as the most important person in carmy's life:

a/n: ok so it is in fact canon in my 'make my heart surrender' series that the main character never got to meet mikey. however, i've been thinking a lot about what it would be like if she had met him when she and carmy were working together in new york so i wrote a lil somethin' about it. it can absolutely be read as a standalone piece with a pastry!chef reader.

takes place october 2021; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

trigger warnings: drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression

how you end up meeting mikey:

halloween weekend of 2021. mikey ends up in new york city for the weekend because he followed a weekend fling for a party. they got into a huge fight over who knows what, and he finds himself in new york city, figuring he might as well go see his brother.

it's a busy night at the new-york-city-fine-dining-establishment-that-shall-not-be-named, carmy is knee deep in expediting while the pastry side just happens to be overstaffed.

your general manager, kate, comes in, letting them know that there's a man outside who's asking for carmy. "he says he's your brother." "my brother?" while carmy doesn't think he can step away, in one shared look, you decide to go since you're his best friend -- the only one he trusts to handle it anyways.

you head out to the front of the restaurant to address the situation finding michael standing outside of the restaurant, pacing on the sidewalk. you recognize him from photos, but he looks different, and it's not hard to figure out that he's kind of strung out -- high on something, though you're uncertain of what.

"you're not carm." "no, i'm not. sorry, but carmy couldn't come out. so he sent me." "shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" "i don't think he was expecting you." you watch as michael's eyebrows rise in reaction to your comment. "he would if he could. it's just... we're doing 400 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so." disappointedly, as if he's accepted that he's not going to see carmy after all, he says, "yeah yeah okay... i didn't know i'd be here either. i just, i -- i gotta catch a flight anyways. will you let him know that mikey stopped by?" "of course."

by the time you get back in the kitchen, you want to protect carmy from the state michael was in so you don't mention the fact that he was high. "what did he want?" "just wanted to stop by. i think he uh... found himself in the city. surprise trip or something." but carmy doesn't completely buy it, instead, focuses, head down on finishing dinner service.

at the end of the night, carmy offers to walk you home, so the two of you head out of the restaurant, eager to unwind from a long night. as you're leaving, michael's still waiting outside of the restaurant and he doesn't look great -- looks like he's coming down from whatever you assume he took.

"michael, what're you doing here?" carmy asks, in shock that he's even here in the first place. "thought i'd come surprise you." "i mean, what're you doing here? in new york?" mikey sighs, a smirk on his face as he answers with: "never trust chicks on motorcycles, carm. they'll leave you high and dry in a brooklyn loft for a few good lines of coke. he chuckles. and while he doesn't exactly find it funny, carmy makes his best effort to try and laugh too, it coming out more like a dry exhale. mikey pivots, as if he's putting on a well-practiced happy face, though there's a sadness in your eyes that you think may haunt you for the rest of your life.

"i'm sorry. where the fuck are my manners? i'm mikey. mikey berzatto. i'm this jagoff's brother." you introduce yourself, and mikey's enthusiastically corralling you to grab a drink with him. carmy keeps looking over at you as if he's checking in, trying to get a read on you as he hesitates to answer. cautiously, you agree, wanting carmy to spend time with his brother. "one drink," he warns mikey.

the three of you make your way to a bar across the street that's open late, and as soon as michael has his first drink, it's like he's a completely different person. he's charming, larger than life, quite the storyteller and you see a side of carmy that you've never seen before. as you watch him listen to his brother, you can see just how much he admires his older brother. while you know carmy is hurt that michael barely calls or makes an effort to keep in touch, sitting here with him now, you can see the way that carmy looks at him -- like he put the stars, the moon, and the sun in the sky. there's a deep admiration and he's almost childlike in the way that he looks up to him.

after the first round, you head to bathroom, wanting to give him and mikey the time. carmy had promised one drink, but you're open to staying if he wants more time with his brother.

"this your girl, carm" "mikey, stop it." "then please tell me you're hittin' that." "michael!" carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice as he does. "are you fuckin' serious right now? what, you're teling me you're not?" "she's.... my friend." "shit. wish i had a friend like that. ya friends or are ya... you know... friends?" carmy just shakes his head, jaw clenched, glaring at michael, wishing he'd stop. "shit, i thought i taught you better than that, bear." "just friends. i'm serious, mike. cut it out." "oh come on! the chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. and i can tell that you like her. i'm not blind, bear. i see the way you-."

it's that sentence that pushes carmy in a way that he doesn't like at all. "don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life." "carm-." "can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?" "well, if you ever bothered to come home. you know mom's been askin' about you. never fuckin' call her-." "oh don't bring mom into this!"

when you return from the bathroom, there is a palpable tension between the two of them that you're not sure how to navigate the thick silence stewing with things left unsaid.

"everything okay?" you ask.

"i think we should go," carmy grits out, clearly upset over the conversation that just transpired between them. "uh... yeah, okay." "it was nice meetin' you sweetheart," mikey grunts, an empty shot glass that wasn't there previously on the bar top. carmy noticeably rolls his eyes at mikey's comment as you grab your things and close out your tab.

on the walk home, you ask: "you wanna talk about it?" "not really," carmy answers. he's quiet on the way home and you can tell whatever was said between the two of them really hurt him. as you finally get to your place, carmy sighs, as if he's ready to get something off his chest. "thank you. for doing that." "for what?" "for comin' along. even though it like... colossally blew up." "you ever gonna tell me what happened?" he shrugs, "i don't know." "okay... well, while i wait for you to burst like a pressure cooker, then inevitably spill the beans," you begin, and he smiles, because you know him too well. "wanna come up for a movie or something? get your mind off of it? it's halloween. maybe i'll even let you talk me into a scary movie this time." you finish asking him. and it's the moment that carmy realizes that you're such a breath of fresh air, especially in contrast with his earlier encounter with mikey. "uh.. yeah. think i'd like that."

the two of you go up to your place, put on a movie, and end up falling asleep on the couch together, only to pretend the next morning that it's not that big of a deal (it is, in fact, a HUGE deal).

[spoopdeedoop]

hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Simon Flinches

Simon x gn!reader

Finally did it! And I looked at it so much that I hate it now, even went back in and changed some small words and stuff, but here you go. Take the flinching trope and make it Simon instead of reader flinching.

Warnings: panic attack, hurt/comfort, barely proofread because I'm too tired, reader being called "Sir" as a honorific not referring to the gender

Wordcount ~3k

You'd say you've gotten good at navigating the minefield that is Simon. You've been together a while by now and you've learned how to handle him so he feels safe and can be himself. It's been a long process that's far from over but you wouldn't have it any other way. Simon is worth all the time, all the effort. And if it means losing a limb in the process, crossing that minefield to get closer to him is worth it.

Simon would say he's gotten good at defusing the ticking bomb that he is. He's been with you for a bit now and he's learned how to trust you more, how to be vulnerable with you. His walls are lower than they’ve ever been and it has actually lead to good things.

But sometimes things don’t go as you want. No matter how hard you try, how carefully you try to navigate Simon. Sometimes just a tiny thing, a gesture, a word, makes everything explode, traps you in that minefield without knowing where to put your foot next, how to reach out to him without stepping onto another scar, tearing it open in a violent explosion.

Like now. It’s so goddamn stupid you could kick yourself. You've been arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. Something so insignificant, so trivial. But it's been a long day for both of you and what started as a joking argument has turned into an actual one and now you don't know how to stop it. Your voices are raised, you’re both shouting the frustrations of the day at each other. You hate arguing with Simon, just as he hates arguing with you.

You know it’s a normal part of any relationship, but with Simon it scares you. With Simon you never know when it could turn into him leaving. Into him pulling away. Yet you find yourself unable to stop your frustration from dripping from your tongue like venom. Simon’s not doing any better.

"Your movie choices are questionable anyway!", Simon throws into your face. "I suffer through them just for you. But they're horrible really! They all suck. I want to watch something that actually entertains me!"

Okay, that stung. Just a few days ago you'd shared one of you favorite movies with him. A movie that changed something in you when you first watched it, a movie that slightly tilted your world view. You didn't expect him to like it but that stung. And in your mind his sentence turns into you not being entertaining enough.

So you step forward, trying to hold back tears. "Yeah, as if your", you jab your finger at his chest, Simon flinches back "movie choices -"

You freeze. He'd taken a step back, raising his hands to shield himself and your heart drops, shattering at your feet. His big eyes are watching your next move in apprehension.

It should be ridiculous, really, someone as capable as Simon, a trained soldier, flinching over you putting your finger on his chest. As if you could actually inflict harm on him. As if you wouldn't rather die than hurt him.

But it's not ridiculous. It's a fucking fist to the face.

The sudden quiet makes your ears ring and Simon doesn't seem to be any better. His chest is heaving. His arms are still up, shoulders hunched, his entire stance small and scared. He’s ready to block your blows, ready to deal with you finally putting your hands on him.

His breathing is loud and quick and you want to guide him to calmness but you don’t know how when you caused his distress in the first place. This is new territory. A new step you took that landed you directly over a mine and it’s exploding right now. Exploding in slow motion, letting you see the details of everything you’ve built with Simon shattering and crumbling into dust.

Then his entire demeanor changes and you almost get whiplash. In a flash he’s squared his feet, narrowed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. His hands have gone down but they’re fists at his sides and there’s nothing relaxed about his new stance. You just watched every wall he’s let down for you come back up in the matter of a second.

His cold gaze almost hurts, his eyes distant and calculating, trying to guess your next move. Like a shield of ice that slipped into place before his soul, keeping it hidden from you.

"Simon -" It's whispered. A plea.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and then starts walking towards you with purpose. For an irrational second you think he’s going to hit you for scaring him. You think he’s going to get revenge on you for everything that’s ever been done to him.

The next second you’re ashamed for even thinking that. He’s not going for you. No, it’s worse. He’s going for the door of the living room behind you.

You’re helplessly watching, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry, almost painful. Your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying break your ribs from the inside. Trying to break free so it can follow Simon.

You’re frozen as you watch him leave the room. Every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to whip around and stop any threat. Stop you should you so much as breathe too hard.

Holding your breath, tears gather in your eyes, dripping wetly down your cheeks. This is it, you’re waiting for the telltale sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing, Simon walking out of your life because this is irreparable.

The relieve you feel when you hear the bedroom door instead almost brings you to your knees. Then you hear the lock to the room turn and your heart breaks all over again. He’s locked you out of his safe space.

Fuck.

You sink down onto the floor and start crying in earnest. You never wanted to scare him. Never wanted to provoke that reaction. You had only pointed your finger!

You’re not even sure if you’re crying over what you’d just done or if your tears are for Simon, how he must be feeling right now. The one person he’s let in raising their hand at him, making him feel unsafe.

He’d thought you’d hit him. He’d thought you’d put your hands on him in a harmful way.

The pain coursing through you makes you breathless as you cry for Simon and everything he’s endured, as you cry over what you’d just ruined.

Hopefully he can’t hear you from the bedroom. You don’t want to cry over this, it’s not your place to cry when Simon is the one hurting. But you’re so scared of losing him of losing your best friend of losing your forever that you can’t help it.

In a weird twisted, crooked way his reaction is prove of how much he trusts you. Trusted you. He’d trusted you enough to let his guard down so far that a gesture of yours caught him off guard. You’ve never seen him so surprised by something someone did, his eyes always all over everyone. He’s always so aware of everyone and everything.

The fact that he felt safe enough to even be caught off guard shows just how close he’d let you. It was a privilege, a gift. A fragile little thing with broken wings in your palms and now you’ve crushed it.

You try to calm your breathing more. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep, slow. The way you instruct Simon to breathe when he’s battling his demons.

Demons he might be battling right now. And suddenly your tears run dry and you jump to your feet. This really isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. So you get a slippery grip on your emotions and push them back for a later time.

Rushing to the bedroom, you raise your hand and pause. You can hear Simon’s steps in the room; he’s walking in circles like a caged animal. You’ll be damned if you don’t at least try to help, doesn’t matter if this is your fault in the first place.

You knock.

His steps halt.

And then they approach the door, soft thuds drawing closer, you can see the door handle turn but it doesn’t open. And then he’s frantically shaking it, apparently not remembering locking it.

“It’s locked!” His voice sounds so confused and scared that your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“You locked it, baby. You can unlock it. The key is on your side.”, you try to say in a calm soothing tone but you’re pretty sure your voice is shaking.

The turning of the key is frantic and the door gets ripped open and then you’re face to face with Simon and his eyes are wide, flitting all over the room, disoriented. His chest is still heaving, even worse than before, and when you see him shaking, you know there’s no stopping it.

Simon’s eyes lock on you and he doubles over, his hands clawing at his chest and neck, he's breathing too hard, always in until his chest must feel like it’s exploding.

“Can’t… breathe…”, he chokes out, eyes utterly terrified, tears starting to drip as he’s frantically trying to breathe and not drown in his feelings.

You don’t know if this is a ‘touch helps’ kind of panic attack or a ‘don’t you dare touch me’ panic attack and you’re scanning over him trying to guess, when his hand grips your shoulder in an iron grip and his wide eyes look straight through you.

He’s still hyperventilating and your heart seems hell bent on matching his hectic panting. Grabbing his arms, you try to steady him as he goes down, his knees buckling. He’s heavy in your hold and your muscles scream but you put your all into preventing him from falling and hurting himself in the process. At least you manage to slow his fall and then he’s on the floor on his hands and knees. One of his hands tries to dig his fingers into the floor as the other fists his shirt, damn near ripping it.

You have to do something even if you don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse. There's no forgiving yourself if you don’t at least try, even if it’s fishing in the dark. If it doesn’t work, you can change the approach. But doing nothing won’t help anyway. So you wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to lay you down, baby. I’m going to hold you.”

You don’t think he hears you but maneuvering him without telling him feels wrong anyway. And then you do exactly as you said, you tug Simon with all your strength towards you and he topples over onto his side, landing on top of you instead of the floor and you’re glad you’re there to soften his fall. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises from it.

Immediately you wriggle partially out from under him, keeping him on your thighs, in your lap and you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got you, Simon. I’m here. You’re in our apartment. Everything is okay. You’re safe, baby.”

Tears silently start dripping fdown your face again, when he curls in on himself clawing at the floor and you know he will black out if he doesn’t get his breaths more even.

In a desperate attempt you put your hand over his chest and push. “Simon, breathe out, baby, come on. Out.”

You exhale in an exaggerated way next to his ear and you think you hear him exhaling the tiniest bit, before he’s sucking air in in in. But that’s something. He can hear you, he reacts, which means he’s allowing you to guide him.

You press again. “Good, again. Ouuuuuut.”, you exhale and this time he manages to get a bit more air out. The way your top is sticking to you with sweat makes you shiver but you don’t give any attention to your own body being stressed. It will calm down when Simon does.

You continue. You don’t know how long you talk to him like that, reassurances between commands to breathe. It’s probably only been a few minutes, but you’re exhausted like you’ve been going for hours, fighting for every exhale until finally his breathing is back to a rhythm that’s as close to normal as it can get in this moment.

The exhaustion rolls over you as if you’ve had the attack yourself and your body curls over him, resting your head on him as he shakes in your lap and breathes.

The thumping of his heart under your cheek is still way too quick and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf, so you drag your tired body out from under him and turn him onto his back. Goddamnit he’s heavy.

Looking at his face resupplies your tears. His cheeks are wet, he’s pale as a sheet and his arms are clutched tightly to him as he continues shaking. You know he’s somewhat aware of his surroundings again but he’s still victim to his mind and body.

Remembering what he’s asked for before in moments when he’s needed grounding, you crawl over him and lay down with your full weight. Your head rests on his chest, near his shoulders and his arms, curled over his chest, dig into your own uncomfortably but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your own body shakes with his as you raise your hands, gently lifting his head - after a silent “please” because he resisted for a moment until his eyes focused on you - and pull a rug closer so he can rest his head on that instead of the hard floor.

Your entire body sags with relief when he pulls his arms out from under you and wraps them around you instead. His hold is tight as if he’s trying to make your bodies merge into one. As if he’s trying to push you into his ribcage to keep your right next to his heart.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal under you and yours follows his lead. When he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, you curl your fist tighter into his shirt and finally try to push yourself off of him. The slight tightening of his hold on you makes you settle again.

The broad palms of his hands are warm and soothing as they pass back and forth over your back. You press your lips to his chest through his shirt and his next exhale is long and shaky.

He moves, jostling you slightly, and you try to get up again, but he doesn’t let you. His voice is low and tired as he says: “Hold on, lovie.”

You do and he sits up, maneuvering you in his arms until he’s got one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then he stands up and even though his movements are slow and exhausted the little to no effort with which he handles your weight still steals your breath.

His heavy steps take you both back into your bedroom and he puts you down on your shared bed, crawling in with you immediately.

You turn onto your side, as does he and then you’re looking at each other, the exhaustion on his face making you feel your own all the more.

Simon moves his hand, covers one of yours and squeezes twice. Immediately you return the gesture. A small sleepy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The reassurance behind that gesture making both of you melt into the mattress.

Still there’s so much talking to do and you end up whispering “We need to talk about this, Si.” into the small space between you, where your joined hands lie.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to each of your fingers, before letting it fall back onto the covers, still in his hold. His eyes are exhausted but you know you can’t sleep without having discussed what happened.

“I need you to know, Si”, you swallow against the tightness in your throat “I would never, ever hurt you. I’d rather chop off my own hand than touch you in a way that could cause you harm. I’m so sorry, Simon, I-“

“I know.”

You shut up, big eyes on his and he smiles, kissing the back of your hand this time.

“I know.”, he repeats and practically watches the gears in your head turn. So he takes a deep gulp of air and continues. “It’s not you, ‘luv. It’s the fucking past. Not your fault that a damn finger is all it took today to set me off. It’s my brain being a fucker.”

You’re so relieved you could cry again. He didn’t think you’d hurt him. His brain just didn’t make the distinction between the finger belonging to you or someone else at that moment. In that moment it was only a hand raised against him.

Still, maybe there’s a way to prevent that in the future? So you tentatively ask: “What can I do so you feel comfortable trusting me more? So you don’t feel like you’re endangered by a gesture from me?”

“I trust you.”, he states calmly and you shake your head.

“There has to be something I can do better. So it’s easier for you to trust-“ The way Simon takes your joined hands and brings them up to his throat, abruptly shuts you up. He's pressing your palm against it so it would be easy to squeeze and hurt and – you try to pull it back and he forces your hand harder against his throat with his own. You freeze completely.

“I trust you.”

Your eyes widen and fly to his from where they’d been locked onto his throat and the way your hand is curled against it in a chokehold.

His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes fixated on you, willing you to understand. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of your hand - a hand that could cut off his oxygen if you wanted - makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Okay.”, you whisper and he finally drops his hand, allows you to slowly draw your hand back from his throat. Your eyes are still widened and lock onto his neck again. Leaning forward you press a kiss to the delicate skin over his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow heavily under your lips.

When you look at hom again his eyebrows are still furrowed and warm palm finds your cheek. “I’m sorry, I reacted like that to something so small.”

You shake your head and nuzzle into his hold, giving a little kiss to his thumb. There's desperation in his eyes and you whish you could kiss it away.

“I’m sorry, ‘m all kinds of fucked up, ‘luv. Wouldn’t fault you if it’s too much. If you want to –“ Your hand covers his mouth and his eyes betray the surprise at that gesture.

“Don’t you dare, Si. Don’t you dare even say that.  As if I’d want that. You shouldn’t even think that. The only reason why I mind the panic attacks is because I know how heavily they weigh on you. You can flinch, you can scream, you can break, I don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, if I could I’d make it stop, but I’ll take that as long as I have you in my arms at the end of the day.”

His hand gently draws your hand away from his mouth and he whispers: “But I’m a handful, lovie. How can you not mind the hassle?”

You smile at him, a little mischievously. “Good thing that I’ve got two hands then, baby.”

He snorts, while his entire face softens, and draws you in closer, you're pressed into his chest, his arms around you and he showers your head with kiss after kiss.

“I thought you were going to leave me.”, comes your muffled voice abruptly halting all of Simon's movement. Gently he pushes you away a bit so you can see his sincerity when he answers.

“Never. As long as you’ll have me.”

Your eyes water and he tilts your head up, with the tip of his finger under your chin, and presses the softest of kisses to your lips. “Don’t care about the flinches and panic attacks and hard moments as long as I get to be in your arms at the end of the day.”

You laugh, when he uses your words against you, a cracked, teary laugh and kiss him again.

“Fuck I need a nap.”, he groans once you’ve managed to stop spelling your love against the lips of each other. You giggle.

“We both do, but drink something first. You’ll wake up with a headache if you don’t.”, you say and he groans with the effort of rolling over and drinking out of the bottle on his nightstand.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, what he did to find someone so caring. Who looks at his hard exterior and handles it with soft touches and patience. He doesn’t know what he did right in his life, because he for sure can’t remember ever doing anything right, to find someone like you. He’s not going to let you go and if he has to beg at some point, then he’ll strangle his pride with his own two hands and do so.

When he faces you again he grins. “Mission accomplished, Sir.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, missing Simon’s soft expression at your flustered state. God you’re so cute. Especially when you’re voice comes out all embarrassed when you say: “You can’t say that! You know what it does to me when you call me that!”

He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close, your bodies fit to each other, immediately finding comfort in each other. And he can feel a wave of calmness crash over him, making him sleepy and slow. “Ya can do something ‘bout that when we wake up. Don’t think my soldier’s up to doing any long marches right now.”

He’s expecting it when your hand wriggles free and slaps his shoulder. “Simon!” You can feel his upper body shake with silent laughter.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Si.”

Your eyes are heavy, your muscles finally relaxing after all that tension of earlier. Your bodies melt into each other. You can feel Simon’s breathing getting slower, a telltale sign of him falling asleep.

“I love you.”, you mumble again before sleep takes you.

Simon’s too far gone to reply but you feel the two squeezes of his hand on you, pressing his love directly into your skin.

[ciwzing]

the first time you suggest kei to wear contact lenses instead of glasses was when a volleyball ball had accidentally landed on his face hard, leaving an indent of his glasses around his eyes and a cruel bruise on his left eye that made him sat on benched for a few match.

Though he refused with a furrowed brows, and a little shake of his head saying "I doubt an accident like that would happen again." and that's that.

the second time was when he whined and complained about the sunlight and why he can't wear sunglasses since he won't be able to see shit anyways, you had said first "why not just have those transition lenses" you heard him scoff and see him rolling his eyes by your words.

"it's impractical and cost more" he retorted back, you look at him dumbfounded, he say it's expensive but doesn't blink an eye to spend money if it's buying you things. "then wear contacts instead" you said to him, you could only hear grumbles under his breath and words of refusal.

you sighed and asked him why he was so disagreement of wearing contacts, he only stayed silent not answering your question, he didn't want to admit that the thought of something like contacts touching his eyes scares him, he cringes at the thought of putting contacts and touching his eyes to get it out. Besides that it takes a lot more effort to put on than glasses,

the third time was a finally the time you had successfully convinced him to put contacts, though you weren't the one who asked but him instead surprisingly.

he had watched you get ready in the morning sitting in front of your mirror, clipping your hair back to put on your contacts. he eyed you in amusement as you successfully put on your contacts on the first try, that's where he got up from your guys bed, still shirtless only wearing loose sweats that's hanging dangerously low on his hips, showing off the band of his boxers.

you watched him through you mirror as he approached you from behind, you greeted him good morning earning you a low hum from him and a raspy morning. bending down to your sitting position to give you a small kiss on your cheek, eyeing both of your reflection in the mirror.

"mind putting contacts on me" with his words, your mouth went agape, looking at him if he was sure and it wasn't his sleepiness just talking. seeing that he was dead serious, you smiled brightly before standing up from your seat and drag him to sit on it instead, opening a drawer to grab another set of contacts. sitting on lap to have a better view of his face.

he grumbled saying you hadn't need of sitting on his lap but his hands that's already resting on your thighs is enough for you to know he doesn't really mind.

"Don't look at me like that, I won't be able to focus and put this on you properly"

"What do you want me to do then? Close my eyes"

"You know what, shut up instead"

Kei concluded that if it means you can sit on his lap everyday to put those stupid contacts on him, he might just wear those instead of his glasses instead.

________________

Bonus!

"Fuck, I wouldn't ever trust you going near my eyes again, I feel like im gonna go blind any second"

"Don't be dramatic, you were moving you eyes so much thats why I had to put it so many times"

"I wanna go back to my glasses.."

[lazygirldoesfics]

drunk confession [1/7]

how i imagine each of the bistro huddy guys would drunkenly confess their feelings for you

starting with nico !!

Nicole plops into the passenger seat of your old sedan, heaving a sigh. "Thanks for picking me up last minute."

"No worries, you're on my way anyway. What happened to Bridgette?"

"She fucking bailed." You watch as Nicole studies herself in the visor mirror. She picks at her mascara, eyes sparking with outrage as she continues, "Her bum ass boyfriend told her she 'couldn't come', that it's not 'his scene' so it'd be 'disrespectful' if she goes to another guy's birthday party without him. Like fucking grow up."

"Unbelievable," you groan, commiserating.

"I don't know why she stays with him," Nicole says smacking the visor back into place before she turns to you. Her lips curl upwards, deviously. "Which means we have to put in the work tonight to make sure she feels every bit of FOMO and gets pissed at that piece of shit so I'm not the only one seething about it." Nicole pulls out her phone, angling the camera to get both of you in the shot, and snaps a picture when you're wearing matching frowns. She texts it to Bridgette as you shift the car into gear and take off.

"Of course he picks a spot with absolutely no fucking parking," Nicole complains as you make your way to the club. The click clack of your heels echoes every inch of road you had to drive down until you finally found a place to park. Nicole keeps having to pull her dress down, grumbling each time she wrangles the hem back into it's place. You suppress a smile, amused by her grumpiness, knowing fully well that if she didn't want to be here she wouldn't have put in the effort to show up.

"It's gonna be fun," you cheer. "He's been talking up this spot all week."

Nicole stops dead, glancing down at you with eyes bearing just a hint of judgement. "It's Nico. I don't exactly trust his idea of a great spot. I'm prepared for sexual harassment and well drinks that taste like diesel." You shove her playfully with your elbow and that at least rises a smile out of her. "All I'm saying is I better get extra fries all week for coming to this. Like they better be hot and waiting as soon as I clock in."

"Agreed," you laugh.

There's a line out the door that emits more cursing from Nicole, but you make the best of it by sending selfies to Bridgette while you wait. She responds to each one almost instantly, hearting the messages or sending crying emojis. You frown when Nicole suggests this means Bridgette's probably watching reruns of Real Housewives by herself, while her boyfriend ignores her.

When it's your turn to be inspected by the bouncer, you give him your best smile. He barely glances at you before waving you passed the threshold. Stepping beyond the entrance door, you become engulfed by the change in atmosphere. Sweat slick air clings to you, fog from the DJ booth hazes your vision and the thrum of the bass pulsates through to your core. An air of cloying desperation sinks into your skin while your heels stick to the grime covered floor.

Nicole coughs next to you, disdain barely concealed. Eagle-eyed, you spot a guy stumbling towards your direction, beer sloshing onto the floor in his wake. Gently, you steer Nicole to the left, just beyond the drunken splash zone, saving her from a drenching.

That man has no idea of the life debt he owes you.

Nicole clenches her eye shut, breathing deeply. "Okay. Okay! I'm aligning my energy. I am here." Her eyes snap open and she brushes her long blond tendril back. "Let's go kill this shit."

She uses her height to scan the crowd and you're happy to watch from your shorter vantage point. "I see them." Nicole strides through the crowd towards the left side of the dance floor and you follow the path she carves. Still, she checks behind her every so often to make sure she hasn't lost you.

At last you make it through the crowd, rewarded with the sight of familiar faces. Brad turns his attention from the bar to wave a greeting, then signals back to the bartender to add two more drinks to his order. Ruby toasts her beer to you with a barely perceptible nod. Joey, perched at the edge of a black plastic bar stool, rubs at his temples. "This music is fucking awful."

"Oh, don't be such a boomer, Joey," Nicole teases, happy to abandon her own irritability if it means she gets to rub Joey's face in his. He mouths for her to shut up and Nicole responds by turning around to snap a selfie. She winks at you after sending the photo off to Bridgette, a secret between the two of you that she actually agrees with Joey more than he'll ever know. You choke down a laugh as you sit next to Ruby, letting Nicole sidle up to Brad and grab the two drinks he ordered for you both.

"Where's the birthday boy?" you ask and Ruby nods towards the dance floor. It's easy to spot Nico with his signature red bandana, though you don't know the cute blond girl he's dancing with. The burn of a blush creeps up your neck as you linger on Nico's hand clutching at the girl's side, ashamed that you notice the way his eyes rake down her figure. Besides him is Pickles, bouncing around like a pinball and dancing, presumably, with himself. That, at least, makes you smile.

"Bottoms up!" Nicole announces, handing a shot off to you. Her and Ruby share a terse smile. You wish they'd get along better, they are so incredibly alike.

You down the shot, letting the warm burn fill you. "Next one's on me!" you say, putting the glass down on the table and standing. "Anyone gonna dance?"

Ruby stills and Nicole proclaims she's not ready, turning back towards the bar to get another drink. Brad scans the crowd, though his eyes seem to trail after Nicole as she flirts with the bartender.

"Joey?"

The chef shakes his head. "Sorry, sunshine, as soon as this beer's done I'm out of here." He shakes his half full bottle of Coors at you. You put your hands on your hips, feigning appall. "You're all boring." With that, you jump into the crowd next to Pickles and bump your hip into his in time with the music.

"Y/N!!!" Pickles beams, flinging his arms around you and squeezing. "I'm so happy you're here!"

You squeeze Pickles just as hard, then take his hand to let him twirl you around. As you spin your eyes lock with Nico's, unaware that he'd even noticed you were here. You smile at him over Pickles' shoulder, and his lips pull into that lazy half-grin he sometimes gives you from behind the line. The blond he is with is lightning fast though, putting her hands on either side of his face to pull his focus back to her.

Your chest tightens, but the music changes to a song with a fast bass that dissolves the knots forming. You grab onto Pickles' hands and you jump together while sing-screaming the lyrics at each other. This goes on for awhile, the songs bleeding into each other, each one hyping you and Pickles up more and more.

The latest song begins to fade and Pickles leans into you, panting. "I need water."

You nod in agreement, fanning yourself with the neck of your shirt. Hands entwined, Pickles pulls you off the dance floor. Ruby and Joey are exactly where you'd left them, a few more beer bottles discarded around the table and hands waving wildly as they argue about something. Nicole stands a few feet away, back leisurely pressed against the bar. She's making exaggerated expressions over her espresso martini glass. You follow her eye line as you press up to the bar next to her and realize she is silently judging Brad's dance partner. Brad's eyebrows react back to her, and though not a word passes either of their lips, they are having a full blown conversation. Gracefully, Brad untangles himself from the girl, walking back over to Nicole in defeat. "I didn't think she was that bad."

"I didn't say a word," Nicole responds, smugly.

Barely hiding a smirk as the bartender approaches, you ask for two waters, handing a cup over to Pickles when they're given to you. The song changes just as the water hits your lips. The familiar opening bars to a Queen song fills the club. You turn to Pickles, eyes meeting each other in pure delight and the water cups are immediately discarded. "Oh we're ALL dancing to this one!" You proclaim, latching onto Nicole and Brad's wrists. You pull them forward, pushing them to follow Pickles onto the floor before you turn on Ruby and Joey. "You guys too, let's go! C'mon Joseph!" Ruby gets up, feigning reluctance as she lets you prod her along while you pull Joey by the crook of his elbow onto the floor with you.

You meet the others just in time to hear the girl Nico had been dancing with pout over the song being lame. She leaves when she realizes Nico's attention is totally lost for the moment. The song may not be her thing, but it also probably didn't help the way Pickles was jumping on top of Nico with abandon, holding absolutely no regard for her attempt to continue grinding. You all surround Nico, singing at the top of your lungs and jostling him in the middle of your mini mosh pit. Even Joey belts out a few words and plays air drums along with Nico's air guitar. Nicole catches it all on video, instantly sending it to Bridgette.

"Alright, alright. I'm outta here," Joey says as the song ends, waving his hands in front of his chest when you groan in protest. He pulls Nico in for an overly aggressive hug and slap on the back. "And don't any of yous be late tomorrow. I'm not dealing with a Terry temper tantrum." A chorus of 'bye Joey' and eye rolls reply to him.

"I'm heading out too. Happy Birthday," Ruby adds, a near smile hinting at her lips before following her boss towards the exit.

"Need. Water." Pickles pants again and heads back to the bar, just as the blond girl re-enters and takes up Pickles' spot next to Nico. Nicole and Brad, who have somehow gotten into an argument about how to make a proper gin martini, are so lost in their own bickering that they haven't noticed the crowd jostling around them. You stand awkwardly next to them, not wanting to get involved but feeling like you can't exactly escape either. Holding your arms across your chest, you sway uncertainly.

A hand find yours, and you look over your shoulder to see Nico tugging you back towards him. "It's not too early to cash in on a birthday dance is it?" He smiles at you in that aloof way, his eyes focusing in on you. A question bubbles on your tongue, wanting to know where the blond went but you decide you'd rather not know. "No, not too early. Right on time, I think," you smile back, fitting your arms around his neck.

His left hand is soft against your lower back, fingers guiding you to sway back and forth in time with the music. You're moving slow, the beat lost as you can feel the inches between you and Nico closing. The club is nothing but Nico's dark eyes swallowing you, the weight of his arms pulling around you until you're poised to meld together. You can't take the heat of Nico's eyes on you anymore so you hide against his collarbone, eyes shutting and letting the smell of earth and smoke on his shirt collar encompass your whole world. You're not sure if the thrumming you feel is the bass or your own heart, if you're still dancing or just standing still wrapped up in Nico's arms.

Suddenly you're knocked backwards, stumbling over your own feet until you hit up against someone. "Hey!" a voice shouts, indignant and you mumble an apology as you try to find reality again. "What the fuck, man," Nico's saying, head turning to glare at the man who'd shoved him and caused you to nearly fall on your ass. The guy is standing over him, absolutely beaming. When Nico finally sees him, he starts laughing. "Oh! Yo, I almost fucked you up man!" The two start shoving each other, albeit playfully, as more guys surround Nico, shouldering anyone, including you, out of the way to land punches and smacks on Nico's shoulder and stomach.

You feel disoriented, discarded even, as you slowly find your way back to the edge of the dance floor. You find the others there, all looking towards the sea of newcomers that have swallowed Nico. "Who are those guys?" you ask, hating how defeated your voice sounds.

"I think they used to work with Nico at Waffle House, at least some of them did," Pickles informs you. You try not to watch him assess you, ignoring the slight frown he wears as he turns to the bar to order another water. You drink it slowly when he hands it to you, watching the amorphous blob of raucous men completely take over the dance floor.

"And that's my cue to leave," Nicole asserts. "Ready?" she looks at you expectantly.

You should leave. You know this in the way you feel cold and unsure and slightly humiliated but you can't ignore that something just opened up between you and Nico. You're not quite ready to leave whatever that is behind yet.

"I'll drive you home," Brad interjects, saving you from having to say anything at all. You're not sure if he could sense your hesitation or if he was just looking for an opening of his own, but you're grateful nonetheless. As long as Nicole agrees.

Her eyes flit to Brad, assessing him with the quickness of a hummingbird's wings. "Let's go then," she says as if it's a challenge, daring Brad to follow through on something unspoken. You watch them disappear, Brad's hand hovering at the small of Nicole's back as she leads them through the crowd.

Next to you, Pickles rifles through his front jean pocket. He pulls out a bag of Skittles, pours some into his hands and offers them to you. "You don't have to stay for me you know," he chirps, "I told Nico I'd drive him home so I'm here for the long run."

You shove the Skittles into your mouth, the candy sticking to your teeth. You look towards the dance floor, watching the group of men you don't know chatting up different girls and pointing them towards Nico. You fix a smile on your face for Pickles. "I'm having too much fun to leave."

Pickles nods, giving you a look that's somewhere between skepticism and pity. You sigh, letting your shoulders sag and the pit in your stomach swallow you down with its full weight before putting your hand back out for Pickles to fill with more candy. Instead you feel a warm weight in your hand. You look up to see Nico, hand wrapping around yours. "You're still here," he's beaming at you, though his eyes are so glassy you're not sure how he can even see you clearly.

"Yeah," you answer softly, wishing you could stop the smile that's spreading from cheek to cheek.

"I think you need water," Pickles says after assessing Nico's wobbly stance, excusing himself from the table. Nico's still standing over you, hand in yours. "Our dance got interrupted," he says, his signature lazy laugh chasing after his words. He starts to move to the music that's playing, eyes slowly shutting. A heavy arm slams into his shoulder, and in the startle Nico slips his hand away from yours.

"You gonna introduce me?" It's the same guy that shoved into Nico while you two were dancing. His eyes waggle towards you in a way that makes you recoil.

"Oh uh, Carmine this is--"

He interrupts before Nico can finish. "No, let me guess. Nicole, right? Or are you Amber?"

You frown. "Neither. Actually, you just missed Nicole."

"Damn!" Carmine snaps his finger. "I really wanted to see the hottie my boy won't shut up about it."

"Bro," Nico says, with what could be a glare if his eyes were alert at all.

"Nah, I mean, you're cute too, don't get me wrong. What's your name sweetheart?"

"I'm nobody," you answer, hastily. "And I'm leaving so…have a good night. It was nice to meet you." You stand, ignoring the hushed way Nico tries to stall you. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop his fretting. "Happy birthday, Nico." You lean in, landing a soft, barely there kiss to his cheek. Eyes glued to the exit sign, you walk as fast as you can towards it before you completely lose your composure. You even ignore Pickles when he calls your name, pretending not to hear the way he asks Nico what happened to make you run off.

You look back at the dance floor quickly, noticing Nico's red bandana bob and sway in the crowd. You leave before it gets too close. The cold air outside hits you in the face like a brick, clearing your senses and leaving you with a weird empty feeling. Like you had something in the palm of your hand but it's slipped through your fingers. You walk a few feet, until the music is no longer drumming in your ears, and lean against the wall of a closed Chinese takeout. Your hands brace against your knees and you let yourself breathe. You can feel tears start to prick at your eyes but you're too drained to fight them off. You can't help but wonder what the hell that was all about. Your feelings for Nico aren't entirely a secret to anyone, certainly not to yourself, though you hope you've always held your composure well enough. You're always hiding your blushing cheeks when he flirts and batting away Nicole and Amber's teasing when they catch you smiling to yourself after leaving the kitchen. But you always held it arm's length, knowing it was all just part of the fun with Nico. It can't ever be serious with him, it just can't be.

"Y/N."

His voice is like a rasps against the wind. You brush your eyes quickly, straightening up as Nico jogs haphazardly towards you.

"Why'd you leave so fast?" he says, breathing heavy as he catches up to you.

"Sorry, yeah, I um, I didn't realize how late it was," you lie.

"Are you mad or somethin'?"

You shake your head as he contemplates you. Eventually he leans against the wall next to you, pulling his vape out for a long pull, as if that's going to help him breathe any easier.

You shrug one shoulder up. "I didn't want to overstay my welcome, is all," you admit quietly, trying to escape the track of his eyes on you. His lids are heavy almost closing as he rests his head back against the wall, yet he won't take his eyes off you. "Not possible for you to do that."

"I have to go, Nico." You say gently.

"Don't." Nico says, hand finding yours again. Entwining your fingers together, Nico tugs you towards him and you oblige, leaning against your side so you're facing him. His head falls into the crook of your neck and you can feel him nuzzling against the sensitive skin there.

"Nico," you protest without any real harshness or edge to your tone. Just a sadness that you can't mask the way you normally would.

"Stay," he pleads, hand trailing down your back. "Everyone else can leave, if it means you'll stay." His words murmur against your skin. Lips press against the side of your neck so gentle you're not sure you really feel anything at all. You sigh as he moves further up, letting him land soft little kisses up your neck to the nape of your ear. He nips at your lobe and that's when you have to push him away.

"Nico," you say firmly, putting a hand against his chest to make distance. He smirks as his head lolls back against the brick wall.

"C'mon baby," his hand hooks around your wrist, thumb running gentle circles. "I know you want me."

Your heart drops, sinking into the deepest pit of your stomach. You wretch away from him. "Don't be an asshole."

Nico's bloodshot eyes widen and he shakes his head as he stumbles forward trying to cling onto you again. "No, no, no. I want it too. YOU, I mean, I want YOU too."

He's holding onto your wrists, knees slightly bent as he sways in the non-existent wind. You're afraid he's going to fall down and you won't have the strength to pick him up so you walk him back towards the wall so he can lean against it. You try to pull your hand from him but he just holds on even tighter. "It's your birthday, you're drunk and you're just trying to get laid. There's a million girls in that club that would be happy to go home with you. Please don't do this to me, Nico. It's not fair. "

"They're not you. I don't want them."

"You don't want me either!" you laugh, incredulously.

Nico's mouth drops open, eyebrows shooting straight up as if they're going to hide in his bandana. "You're all I want!" You don't know how to respond to that. You stare back towards the club hoping Pickles or Carmine or someone will appear and come take him away so you can just go home and forget this entire night happened.

"I like you SO much," Nico confesses, eyes still wide and words slurring together. "Like, I haven't even quit once since you started working. Every time I get to see you it makes all the like bullshit worth it. I know it's kinda crazy, you and me. You deserve a lot better."

All the wind knocks out of you. You try to process what Nico is saying, justify it against the way his eyes glaze over with alcohol and weed. "You're drunk," you say again, an explanation.

"Yeah," he smiles, lopsided. "No way I'd ever tell you this shit if I wasn't."

And though his eyes are barely open there's a sincerity to his words. "You know," he continues, "I've seen our future, if we like, try this. It's all good baby, just me and you forever. 'Till the four kids of course."

"Four?" you laugh,"That seems like a lot."

"Okay maybe two, and a cat named Lucy."

"I'd like a cat," you smile, leaning against him as Nico wraps his arms around your waist. You can feel the stretch of his smile against your cheek as he spreads kisses across your face. He moves closer to your mouth and you can feel his lips reach out for yours. You catch his head between your palms. "Not while you're drunk," you reprimand gently.

"That's fair. I can fuck with that," Nico smiles. "Tomorrow then. I'm taking out for breakfast before our shift and I'mma kiss the shit out of you."

"Sure," you smile back. "IF you remember any of this."

"Oh, baby, I'll never forget it."

Nico grabs you, picking you up off the ground as he twirls you just slightly. You're a little afraid you're both going to fall and tumble to the ground but he makes it around a little half circle before setting you back down. You throw your arms around his neck, holding him close as he nuzzles deep against your cheek.

Your phone pings, notifying you of a text. You pull it out from your purse, swiping it open while Nico continues to nestle into you. It's from Nicole, a picture of she took of you and Nico dancing. In it you're pressed against him, face hidden in his collar as he looks down on you with an expression of pure serenity. Looking at it you can't help the butterflies that swarm within you. You hold Nico even tighter, hiding your big, wide grin against his hair.