#but also. also. what if they immediately throw hammers at me

[elprupneerg]

oh damn, the terrors have kicked in

[achilles-rage]

Return the Favour

summary: after buck saves reader when her apartment building goes up in flames, they run into each other at a bar. buck's on an awful first date, and reader decides to help him get out of it.

word count: 5.6k

request: I was wondering if i could request a story about Evan Buckley saving a plus size reader for like a fire or some dangerous situation and they're both attracted to each other but neither of them acts on. A few weeks later or so Buck is actually saved by reader while he's on a bad date he's trying to get out of and (like she makes up an excuse for him or plays along with something he says) and he ends up asking her out.

A/N: i'm sorry this took so long but it's finally out and i may have gotten carried away! this was my first buck request, and it was really fun! and i'm so used to writing good luck charm now that i had to search "evan" and change them all to "buck" at the end LOL also i threw in some abby shade, can you find it?? hehe. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: reader is caught in a fire, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You wake up in the middle of the night to the fire alarm in your building echoing off the walls of your apartment. You’re immediately disoriented, as the booming sound makes your ears ring and your head spin. You jump out of bed and make your way out to your living room, and your breath catches in your throat when you see the smoke quickly filling the room. You make your way to your front door, but jump back in pain as the flat surface burns the back of your hand.

Dread fills your belly as you look around the room frantically. You see your cat cowering under your kitchen table, and you quickly run to grab her before she hides under anything where you won’t be able to reach her. You grab her and she lets out a loud meow, but you keep her squirmy body in your arms as you make your way to your window.

You’re four storeys up, and your landlord has still not fixed your fire escape, although you’ve been asking for months. Either way, you throw open your window, hoping to get some fresh air as smoke fills your lungs and burns your throat. 

You run to your room and grab your phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1 as tears form in your eyes.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“3246 Weston St. My apartment building’s on fire.” you tell her frantically, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you struggle to get onto the fire escape with your cat still in your arms.

“Yes, we know about that. I see fire escapes on the outside of the building. Can you get down?” she asks you calmly, and you feel an odd sense of calm fill your body as her voice fills your ears.

“It’s broken, there’s no ladder. My landlord won’t fix it.” you tell her softly, squeezing your cat to your chest as more tears start to fall.

“What’s your name?” You answer her, sniffling softly.

“Hi, I’m Maddie. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? There’s already firefighter’s on the scene. Can you tell me what side of the building you’re on?” You shake your head, but then reply quickly, knowing she can’t see you.

“I don’t see any. I’m on the back side of the building, on the fire escape. On the fourth floor.” She mumbles an “okay” as she types on her computer. 

“Alright, I’m sending a team over to you, they’ll be right there. Is it just you in your apartment?”

“Just me and my cat.” you mumble, feeling a little silly at your response. The smoke is starting to waft out onto the fire escape, and it makes you cough loudly.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’re gonna get you down. The firefighters should be there now. Do you see them?” You wait for a moment as you look down at the ground, and your heart drops once you see the bright lights turn the corner.

“I see them.” you whisper, holding your cat tighter as the sirens spook her. You barely even hear Maddie’s response as your heart hammers in your chest. You make your way to the railing of the fire escape, watching as the aerial ladder is extended up to you.

You let out a sigh of relief once two very attractive firefighters are almost up to you on the ladder. You can’t help the embarrassment filling your body as you look down at your oversized shirt, with no bra, just long enough to cover your short spandex shorts, but you’re too happy to finally get off of your fire escape that you don’t care. 

“Eddie, you get the cat, I’ll get her.” one of them speaks, and the other one, Eddie, nods as he holds out his arms towards you.

You let out a soft sigh before you hand your cat to him, watching nervously as he starts making his way down the ladder with your cat twisting around in his arms. Buck takes this moment to trail his eyes down your figure, taking in your thick thighs and soft tummy. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but there’s no time for that.

“Alright, let’s get you down.” Buck tells you, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You cross your arms instinctively as your eyes trail down the ladder. He senses your fear, and holds his hands out.

“I’m Buck. What’s your name?” he asks when you don’t make a move to the ladder. He sees the gears turning in your head as you mumble your name, and he smiles softly, rolling it around on his tongue, committing it to memory.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right behind you the whole time.” he says softly, trying to coax you out onto the ladder. Your eyes move to his hands before going back up to his face, and you nod slowly. You put your hands on the railing, ready to hoist yourself over the railing and onto the ladder.

“Alright, I’m gonna hold onto you to keep you steady. Is that okay?” he asks, and you nod as nerves fill your belly. He grabs onto your plush hips firmly as you swing one leg over the railing, and he helps guide your other leg over the ladder until your bare feet are on the ladder. 

“There you go, I got you.” he whispers once you’re pressed against him. He moves one hand off your hip and grips the railing of the ladder, then urges you to start making your way down backwards, with him going down first behind you. 

You close your eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath, then start to move once you open your eyes again. He keeps one hand on your hip the whole way down, keeping his body tense in case you slip. He tries to keep his eyes respectfully on the back of your head, but he can’t help it when his eyes trail down to your ass, just barely covered by your shorts as your shirt rides up.

“You’re doing so good. Just a few more steps.” he speaks once you’re almost to the bottom of the ladder. You smile softly at his words, despite the way your heart is pounding out of your chest. His presence calms you.

Once you’re finally down on the ground, you turn to him with a shy smile. 

“Thank you.” you say softly, looking up at him.

“Of course. You should get checked out. Make sure you didn’t inhale too much smoke.” he tells you, returning your smile. Now that he has the chance, he studies your face. If he was still the old Buck, he would ask you out, loving your sweet voice, pretty face, and gorgeous body. But he doesn’t date people he meets on the job anymore, and he’s cursing himself for that rule right about now.

You let him take you over to the ambulance, and you’re surprised when he stays there with you. The fire is for the most part out, as a few other stations were also called, so he doesn’t feel bad staying with you. He stands in front of you as Hen checks you out, taking your cat from Eddie while he waits.

He can’t help but strike up a conversation as he pets your cat, desperate to know more about you. He asks where you’re from, and what you do, and even manages to ask if you’re single. He doesn’t flat out ask that question, but after asking about your apartment, he learns that you don’t often have people spending the night, and he’s relieved.

You learn more about him too. You learn that his sister is the operator that you spoke to on the phone, and that he’s from Pennsylvania. He tells you a little about his travels before he landed in LA, but there’s not much time to go into detail, as Hen finishes looking you over quickly.

He hands you back your cat, and your hands brush each other’s as you take her back. You both freeze at the small contact, lingering for a moment too long.

“Well it was nice to meet you. Thanks again.” you trail off as you look up at him. You want to see him again, but you’re sure he’s just this nice with everyone while on the job.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?” His voice has a hint of concern, thinking about you having nowhere to go. He lets out a relieved sigh as he sees you nod.

“My friend lives a few blocks away. I can get an Uber over there.” you reply.

“We’ll wait with you. Don’t want you alone out here.” Your smile widens at his kindness, and you can feel your cheeks heating up at his insistence, although you’re sure it’s probably just protocol. You feel butterflies in your tummy at the idea of him wanting to stay, regardless of the reason. 

In reality, he just wants to spend more time with you. He’s on the verge of asking you out, but as your Uber pulls up, he decides he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks.

You thank him once again before you get into the Uber, also thanking Eddie and Hen quickly, who are standing back and watching you and Buck with raised brows.

Once you’re in the car and it’s finally out of sight, Hen and Eddie can’t help but laugh. Buck turns to them with furrowed brows, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“What?” he asks as he fights back a smile, still thinking about you.

“For a second I thought you were gonna invite her to go home with you.” Hen teases him, bumping her shoulder with his as they walk back towards the front of the ambulance, which is right behind the fire truck.

“I don’t date people I meet on the job anymore; you know that.” he says with a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame. You two were really hitting it off.” Eddie adds onto Hen’s teasing, smirking as they all walk side by side.

“Yeah, I know.” Buck murmurs, getting slightly upset. He’s starting to regret not asking for your number; he’s already desperate to see you again. 

He’s forced to push it aside quickly, however, as he hears Bobby’s voice over the radio calling the three of them to the front of the building for triage.

A few weeks later, you’re still staying with your friend, Jordan. You’re lucky, the fire had only gotten to a small part of your apartment, and most of your things were left untouched, but you still aren’t allowed back in your apartment. You immediately told her all about the cute firefighter, of course, and she was almost as upset as you were that you didn’t try to ask him out. 

You can’t help but think about him still; he’s the most attractive guy you think you’ve ever seen, and he’s kind, and funny. Either way, you were way too nervous at the time, and he was on the job. Even if you didn’t meet while he was working, you don’t think you would’ve said anything anyway. And he hadn’t said anything either, so you try your best to forget about him.

Buck spends the next few weeks thinking about you too. He even tried a dating app or two, hoping your photo would pop up on his screen, but to no avail. He thinks about your pretty face often, but his mind also seems to wander to your soft curves, and how your thick thighs were on full display for him to take in in your shorts.

He finally agreed to go out with another girl he met on an app, deciding he should just move on rather than driving himself crazy. He knows he could ask Maddie to pull up the call log and he could get your number, but he knows that would be weird. And a little bit creepy.

He’s sitting in a small bar close to his apartment, a small, absent-minded smile on his face as he stares across the table at his date. This is the longest date he thinks he’s ever had. It was very clear as soon as his date started talking that she has no interest in actually getting to know him, the first give away being that she chose the dimly lit dive bar. While he wouldn’t necessarily say no to it, that’s not really what he’s looking for anymore. 

He’s listening to a story of when she went on vacation to Colombia when he hears a soft laugh coming from the bar. His eyes trail over and see you standing there, talking to what he assumes is two of your friends.

His throat goes dry as he takes in your figure, studying your soft curves and slightly revealing outfit. He can hardly hear the woman across from him now, studying your every move and expression.

He tears his eyes away from you after a moment and refocuses on his date, not wanting to seem rude. He keeps his eye on you out of the corner of his eye, however, ready to run after you if you leave before his date ends.

He keeps listening to his date, who has barely let him get a word in, but he looks very clearly bored. He can’t help it; he tries to reply every time she pauses, but his heart is pounding. He finally found you, and it was a complete coincidence. Like fate.

You don’t notice Buck right away; you’re so wrapped up in your little girls night out to even look around the bar. It’s not until your friend Jordan points to him, saying how hot he is, that your eyes finally land on him.

You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face, and your eyes are trained on him for a few seconds until Jordan’s voice finally breaks through your haze.

“What?” she asks with a small laugh, and her smile fades when she sees the way you look over at her with a dazed expression

“It’s him. The firefighter.” you tell her, biting your lip as you look back over at him.

“You have to go talk to him. Before you lose him again.” Jordan tells you with a gasp as your other friend, Alyssa, asks what the hell you two are talking about.

Jordan explains to Alyssa while you think her words over. You don’t think you have it in you to go over. Maybe if you were much more drunk than you are right now, but currently, you wouldn’t be able to will your feet to move. 

“He’s on a date. I can’t just interrupt them. And what would I even say?” you argue softly once she’s finished explaining, looking over at Jordan. You chew the inside of your cheek nervously. The girl he’s with is gorgeous, and you begin to think that he was definitely just being so nice to you because he was working.

“Look at him. He looks so bored. He definitely doesn’t want to be there. Go save him.” Alyssa chimes in after she’s caught up, eyes glancing between you and him.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” you mumble, turning back to the bar and ordering a cocktail once you flag down the bartender. 

“Actually, we’ll just get 4 shots.” Alyssa says, smirking as she looks at you sideways. “You just need a shot or two in you, then you’ve gotta get over there. Before it’s too late. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.” she tells you once the bartender walks away to get the bottle. 

You sigh, shaking your head. But before you can speak, the bartender puts the shots down on the table in front of you. Jordan immediately puts a shot in your hand and lifts it to your lips. You begrudgingly swallow it, letting in a sharp inhale as you feel it burning your throat. 

Your friends then each grab a shot and throw them back, then Alyssa grabs the last shot and holds it out to you.

“Come on, you just need some courage.” she teases, and you roll your eyes again before you take the shot. You were planning on drinking tonight anyway, and whether or not you’re going to go up to him, you figure you might as well take the shots. 

A little while later, you can feel the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’ve been swaying softly to the music as you talk to your friends, but your eyes never stray far from Buck. You always end up looking at each other at different times, so neither of you know that the other person knows of each other's presence. 

“I think now is your chance. He looks ready to kill himself.” Jordan tells you over the music, and all three of you look over at Buck’s table. He has a smile on his face, but his eyes lack any real emotion. 

You take a deep breath, and before you can even think, you let out a soft “okay.” Your friends smile widely, both taking turns to fix various parts of your appearance to make sure you look perfect. Jordan smooths down your top while Alyssa fixes your necklace, and then they both look up into your eyes.

“Go get him. Your ass looks great in those jeans, he’s gonna love it.” You feel your cheeks heating up at Alyssa’s words and you laugh softly. You can feel your hands shaking, but you quickly push your nerves aside and finally make your way over to him. He saved you once, and now it’s time for you to return the favour, although this situation is much lower stakes. 

“Oh my God, Buck! Hey!” you say once you reach his table, a large smile on your face. His eyes are on you in an instant, and he smiles widely, unable to stop his eyes trailing down to your cleavage peeking out of your top.

You open your arms, and he stands up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you loop yours around his neck. 

“Do you want help getting out of this date?” you whisper in his ear, and you smirk as you feel his slight nod against your skin. “Follow my lead.”

You pull back, barely even looking at his date as you continue to speak. You’re glad he said yes, or else this would be really awkward.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?” You don’t even give him the chance to reply before you turn to the girl.

“How do you know my ex-boyfriend? He’s a handful, I’ll tell you that. Good luck.” you tell her with a smirk. You turn back to Buck and look at him with as much desire in your eyes as you can muster, not that it’s hard, and he matches your expression immediately. 

You know this will work; most girls don’t want to have to deal with a guy that’s still so close with their ex. You see the girl’s face fall slightly from the corner of your eye, and you look back to her, waiting for her answer.

“Oh, um, we don’t really know each other that well.” she replies with a small smile, and you can see the way she tenses slightly, starting to feel a little awkward.

“Lucky you.” you tell her with a soft laugh, looking back up at Buck, whose arm has found its way around your waist. Even still, he keeps his hand hovering over your skin, just close enough for no one else to notice, not wanting to make you uncomfortable just in case you came over just to be nice. 

“I’m sorry. I should let you get back to your date.” you tell her, an apologetic look on your face, although your eyes have no hint of remorse. “Oh, and Buck, are you still coming over tomorrow night? My roommate’s going out of town.” you tell him, licking your lips. He nods, in a daze. He knows you’re not being serious, but he can’t fight the images that his mind is creating. 

“Actually, it’s getting pretty late. I should probably go.” she mutters, standing up from the table and putting her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll text you.” she tells Buck softly, but all three of you know she doesn’t really mean it. 

Once she’s out of sight, you turn to Buck, suddenly feeling your brain catching up to your actions. He senses your quick flip, and removes his arm from your waist, mumbling a quick “sorry.” 

“No, you’re good. I just don’t normally do stuff like this, and I’m just now realizing that. I’m sorry, maybe I had too much to drink.” you admit sheepishly, your face growing hot once again as you feel yourself rambling.

“No, I appreciate it. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you since we met. I was gonna ask you out, but I sort of have this rule that I don’t date people I meet on the job.” he tells you, smiling down at you. He licks his lips as his eyes trace your face, studying it, memorizing it. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. He wanted to ask you out? The thought makes your stomach flip in excitement, and it causes a new wave of confidence to flow through you. 

“Well, you’re not working right now, right?” you tease him softly, a hopeful look on your face. 

“Yeah, I guess not. How about I buy you a drink?” he replies, his smile morphing to a smirk. You nod slowly, so focused on him that you don’t even think about your friends watching you from across the bar. 

You decide on something without alcohol instead once you get to the bar, not wanting to risk a hangover the next day. Your friends realize quickly that you aren’t coming back to hang out with them, and they’re happy for you. They keep an eye on you for an hour or so, but when they realize how into each other you are, they decide to leave.

You talk for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the bartender does final call, and you both realize how long you’ve been talking. 

“I guess I should get home.” you say with a sigh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, and you’ve drifted so close together over the last few hours that you don’t even notice his leg has settled between yours as you sit on the bar stools. You wouldn’t have to lean very far to connect your lips, you think to yourself.

“Or, you could come back to mine?” he asks with hope in his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be asking you this; he wants to take you on a proper date first, but with the way you’re looking at him, he can’t stop the words that slip from his mouth. You bite your lip as you fight back a smile, but nod after a moment.

“Okay.” you murmur, and that’s all it takes for him to grab your hand and drag you to his jeep, but not before slamming some cash on the bar counter. You laugh as he drags you outside, amused by his eagerness. Once he gets to his jeep he pushes you against it, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. 

A soft noise escapes the back of your throat as your back hits the door, but you happily kiss him back. Your arms make their way around his neck again and one hand lands in his hair, your fingers weaving through it. He keeps his hands on your hips, but he’s itching to touch you everywhere. 

He pulls back after a moment and opens the door, his pupils blown and his jeans getting tighter. You smile up at him and then get into the jeep, watching him dreamily as he makes his way to the driver’s side. 

He keeps his hand on your thigh the whole way home, rubbing your inner thigh with his thumb. He squeezes your flesh every now and then, smiling over at you each time, and once he pulls into his building parking lot, he’s quick to jump out of the car and jog over to your side. 

He keeps his hands on you the entire way up to his apartment, trailing up your sides, and once you walk into his apartment, he pushes you against the wall and meets your lips again in a dizzying kiss. 

He slides his tongue into your mouth, and both of your hands are clawing at each other, eager for more. His hands travel down to the back of your thighs, and he whispers “jump” against your lips. You hesitate for a moment, nervous about him lifting you up. He picks up on your hesitancy and pulls back for a moment with a smirk. He grabs the back of your thighs hard and lifts you up, pinning your back to the wall once again.

His lips are immediately back on you, kissing and nipping down your neck to your collarbone. You’re so focused on his lips on you that you barely have time to react to his strength. You’re not used to being lifted like this, and it makes desire pool between your legs. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you off the wall, keeping his hands under your thighs as he moves to the stairs. You look over your shoulder at where he’s heading, and your arms tighten around his neck as you laugh softly. Your head is spinning as he walks up the stairs; he lifts you up so effortlessly, and you can’t wait to see how else he puts his strength to use. 

He throws you onto his bed, staring down at you as you sit up on your elbows, chest rising and falling rapidly as lust overtakes every sense. He smirks as he takes in your body sprawled out on his bed. He looks down your body, taking in your chest, and your plush belly, and your thick thighs, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the end of the bed, making you squeal softly.

The next morning, you wake up naked in a room you don’t recognize, as you were too focused on Buck last night to notice anything around you. The events from last night flood your mind as you feel an arm firmly draped across your waist, and you can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face. 

You can hear his steady breathing from behind you, and you know he’s still asleep. It’s probably early, you think, as the hint of light coming in from the bedroom window looks like the sun hasn’t quite broken over the horizon.

You try to move his arm slowly, seeing his bathroom door connected to his bedroom. As you do, you feel his grip tighten, and he pulls you tighter against him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I just found you again, I’m not letting you go this soon.” he teases in a raspy voice, just barely above a whisper. You laugh softly and turn in his grip to face him, smiling as you take in his sleepy eyes and soft smile.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” you whisper back, as if trying not to ruin the calmness surrounding you both. He groans, and finally releases you after a moment, but not before he leans in for a soft kiss. He turns to lay on his back, folding his arms behind his head to watch you walk to the bathroom. He smirks as his eyes observe your bare figure, licking his lips.

Once you’re done in the bathroom, you go back to bed, laying on your side beside him and resting your cheek on his chest. He grabs your thigh as you drape your leg across his hips, humming softly as he feels your soft skin. 

“You want some breakfast?” he asks after a little while, giving you both some time to wake up. You raise your head and rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him, nodding. He smiles as his eyes glance across your face, admiring the way the sun is hitting your face, having finally breached the horizon. 

He then leans down to give you a soft kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to your cheek. Once he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, reveling in his touch and warm gaze.

“What kind of breakfast?” you whisper once you open your eyes. He shrugs before he speaks, still trying not to disrupt the comfortable quiet surrounding you.

“Anything you want. Eggs, waffles. I’m pretty skilled in the kitchen.” he teases, winking. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. How is he still single? Cute, kind, smart, and a good cook? You can’t believe it.

“Do you have strawberries and blueberries?” you ask softly, smiling once he nods. “Let’s make waffles.” 

He nods at your words, sighing loudly and stretching before he sits up slowly. You move off of him and watch as he gets up and puts on some grey sweatpants, and your eyes wander down his body quickly, making him chuckle. 

You get up and find your bra and panties on his floor, putting them on quickly. You debate on putting back on your jeans and top from last night, afraid Buck’s shirt wouldn’t fit you in a cute oversized way, but you decide against it. It’s too early for jeans, and with the way he was worshiping your body last night, you don’t think he’d turn down the opportunity of watching you walking around his kitchen so exposed.

He pulls you into another kiss once you’re semi-dressed, his hands making their way to your cheeks. You smile against his lips, and bite your lip gently once you pull back, and he keeps his eyes closed for a moment. 

“Jump.” he whispers after a moment, and you oblige this time, letting him lift you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way to the stairs.

“You really don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know.” you say with a soft laugh. You turn your head to watch where he’s going, arms tightening around his neck instinctively as he reaches the stairs.

“Nuh uh, come on. I saw your face last night. Don’t lie, you love it.” he teases you, squeezing your thighs. You shake your head and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize that he noticed. 

Once you get to the kitchen he sets you down on the counter, his hands lingering on your hips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, almost naked on his kitchen counter, your soft belly on full display for him. He backs away slowly as he takes one final look, then turns and starts grabbing ingredients from the pantry and fridge. 

You notice he’s making waffles from scratch, and your heart swells at the thought of him putting in so much effort. You try to tell him you can help, but he cuts you off, insisting that all he wants you to do is to “sit there and look pretty,” which makes you giggle. You can’t help feeling giddy around him; you feel like a lovesick teenager.

Once he’s finished with breakfast, you slide off the counter and make your way to the kitchen table. He brings the berries, the maple syrup, and some whipped cream over, and you both dig in.

He waits to see your reaction, and grins widely when he sees you moan softly in contentment, closing your eyes. You look over at him as he admires you, and you look down, smiling softly, not used to this kind of attention. 

���Can I take you out?” he asks you halfway through breakfast. He chuckles softly as you look up at him with a raised brow, and he reaches up to wipe a bit of whipped cream off your upper lip. 

“You already took me out.” you reply softly, licking your lips after his thumb brushes over them.

“That doesn’t count, we just happened to be there at the same time. I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe a walk or something after, get some ice cream. What do you say?” he corrects you, giving you a wink. You smile, nodding as you mumble a soft “okay.” 

Once you’re finished with breakfast, he leads you to the couch and wraps a blanket around both of you. You’re leaning against his chest and his arm is draped on the back of the couch behind you, which makes your stomach flip.

He turns on a movie, but you’re too busy talking and laughing with each other to really pay attention. As he looks down at your pretty face, his smile stays plastered to his face. He’s so glad he agreed to that God awful date, and that you were willing to help him out of it, because now that he has you, he never wants to let you go.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @minsugafour @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @sarahsmi13s @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @sporadicmakerwerewolf @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @buckandeddiesverison @love-kha1 @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @officiallyalbino @girl-of-multi-fandoms @wanniiieeee @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour @keyweegirlie @catkight @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @lilsquatch7898 (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in searches, otherwise i can’t tag you!)

[rustedhearts]

just friends (again) (roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: you’ve convinced everyone around you that you and steve are just friends. now you just have to convince yourself—but it proves difficult when steve finally admits how he feels.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ just friends (part one) ✶ the library

tags: pining, yearning, they want each other so bad they're so stupid, little angst/hurt/comfort, oh steve harrington the man that you are. didn't proofread so ignore any mistakes oops.

buy me a ko-fi! (my blurb commissions are also still open!)

“I’m having a little carpet picnic.”

Julia Roberts’ voice filled the living room with a familiar warmth. The pinks and whites of the Beverly Hills hotel room from Pretty Woman coated the couch and the surface of your face with a gentle glow. The Chinese food you ordered a few hours ago was starting to stink. Even Ted, who was curled at your feet for most of your movie marathon, could no longer stand the vegetative life and scampered away.

It had been a week since Eddie broke things off. After Steve punched him, you spent the Sunday post-knockout calling and texting, hoping to sort things out. But Eddie never picked up. Eddie never replied. You figured stopping by the shop was a bit too far—if he wanted to talk to you, he would’ve by now.

So here you were, spending another weekend on the couch. Single. Broke. Lonely.

“He thought I was cheating on him,” is the excuse you have for getting dumped.

But the look on Theresa’s face when you told her is the first time it made you recoil. The first time you doubted that Eddie was 100%, entirely out of his mind.

Theresa winced into the overpriced lattes you were drinking at a curbside patio on Wednesday. “Well…I mean…”

And you gasped, mouth agape and heart hammering in your chest. What the fuck did that mean? Because you were just friends. All Steve ever was and is: your best friend. Why did everyone act like you were having a secret affair when the doors were closed on the public?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me—“

“I’m not defending the prick,” Theresa justified. “He was an asshole for talking to you like that. But I can see why he might have thought that. You and Steve are really close. Like…very close.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted.

And Theresa dropped it, holding her hands above her latte with innocent agreement. But her words haunted you the entire week. Every time Steve filled your coffee and had it ready on the counter for your commute to work (he even used your favorite travel mug). Every time he came home with a bag of peanut m&ms when he dropped by the store because it was the little treat you always asked for, but he didn’t even need to be asked anymore.

But like any other Saturday, the apartment was void of him for most of the day. He mumbled some excuse about going to the mall through your door this morning, and when he came home twenty minutes into Pretty Woman with an Abercrombie shopping bag, you knew he’d been date shopping.

“Hey,” he called to you, door clamping closed behind him. His keys jingled on their toss toward the table cluttered with half-opened mail.

Cheek squished against a throw pillow, body splayed flat on the couch, you cut him a glance sideways and adjusted the volume. “Hey.”

Steve kicked off his shoes and set his bag near the door, making your chest tighten when he immediately sauntered toward the couch. He turned to the tv with his hands on his hips.

He asked what he always asked, despite his eyes watching the very thing. “Watchya watchin’?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Did you already watch Mystic Pizza?”

“Yep.”

Steve sighed. “Damn. Alright, well, scooch over.”

When he plucked your feet up and flopped down under them, he smelled like the sickeningly sweet butter of a soft pretzel, and the overwhelming stench of Abercrombie & Fitch. You couldn’t believe he still shopped there.

His hands were still resting on your ankles, bracing your feet against his jean-clad thighs. His touch was warm, soft, all-encompassing—and suddenly all you could think about even as Richard Gere came on screen. Steve's touch, his heat, the body those hands came attached to resting just inches away. He was wearing blue today. He looked so good in blue.

You swallowed and coughed, cheek rubbing on the pillow. Steve’s finger twitched around your calf.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you croaked.

His eyes bored into you for a moment before he turned back to Julia Roberts. "Notting Hill or My Best Friend's Wedding after this?"

Your lips parted to reply, but then his finger began tracing shapes into the patch of skin between the bottom of your pant leg and the elastic of your sock. Air choked in your throat. Your eyes bulged on the glowing television screen. The muscles in the center of your body knotted and squeezed like nausea.

In your stock-still state, it didn't even occur to you that Steve somehow knew your entire I'm-sad-and-can-only-watch-Julia-Roberts-movies marathon setlist, but it certainly crossed your mind later on. You and Steve are really close. Maybe Theresa had a point.

"Um..." Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly-dry lips.

"You good over there?" Steve chuckled, head tipping to gauge the features and their current predicament on your face.

You buried it further into the pillow, as far as it could go without hiding completely. "Yes, Steve, I'm fine."

Steve pulled back, settling into the couch again. "Jeez, oh-kay."

He waited a moment, and you inched free from your pillow enough to bring your eye back to the television, doing your best to focus on the movie you'd seen a million times and not Steve's hand sweeping under your pant leg. He'd done that a million times, too. Touched you. Felt you.

He held your hand when you crossed the road like a child that needed guidance. He braced your back to move you which way he wanted, and to pull you close when public situational occurrences arose that made him uncomfortable. He brushed your hair once when you were victim to an ungodly illness that had you picturing death. He removed your makeup on your birthday last year when you got so drunk you puked in the doorway.

His hands were always so gentle. His touch was always so soft.

But, God, why did it feel so different right now? Why did it feel so good?

"Want a mall haul?" Steve asked, too uncomfortable in the sudden silence of the living room. He was already standing and placing your feet back on their own before you could reply.

In your periphery, he headed toward the door to retrieve the bags he neglected. "Got a couple shirts to try. Also, am I too old for that store? I swear, everyone in there was like a little Taylor Lautner wannabe from 2012—meaning they were fourteen and on steroids—"

"Steve!"

He stopped. Standing at the edge of the rug with both hands on the corded handles of his Abercrombie & Fitch shopping bag to pull it open. The snicker gathering in his throat hitched into a snort, smirk drooping into wide-eyed surprise.

You never yelled. Not at him. Not at anyone that didn't deserve it, like the neighbors when they were arguing too loud again and you were trying to nap. Like the guy that tried to steal Steve's package a few months ago that you nearly tackled down the hall.

But never Steve.

You shot up on the couch, hands flying to your pounding head. "Just...please! I don't want a mall haul, I don't want to talk, I just...—I just wanna be alone."

Steve blinked, cheeks colored pink. He closed the bag slowly, paper crinkling as he went. He took it in one hand and backed up, stepping off the rug foot by foot. He glanced at Ted, who skittered in surprise at your outburst and was standing with an arched back and black pupils near the tv stand.

"Uh...yeah, okay. Sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the nape of his neck.

Your shoulders slumped, deflating into the couch as Steve turned his eyes to the floor and tugged at the back of his hair. That stress tick again—the one you hated causing. He turned slowly, caution stiff in his spine. You watched his finger twist and wind into a lock of chestnut hair as he trudged into the hall. His door clamped closed a moment later.

A heavy, moaning sigh shuddered from your mouth as you flopped back on the pillow. Two arms locked over your head, pressing down on your eyes to blind them and the horror you created.

"Slippery little suckers," Julia Roberts snickered on the screen.

"It happens all the time."

✶ ✶

You ate dinner separately. It was the first time you'd ever eaten dinner separately within the same four walls. Even the night you moved in together, when you were nothing but a pair of strangers gauging how weird it might be to live with the opposite sex without something romantic or sexual in the undertones—even then, you ate a greasy cheese pizza together on the living room floor with an empty box as makeshift table.

He asked all the right get-to-know-you questions, and when he successfully made you laugh with all his snarks and quips, you knew Steve Harrington would be an alright roommate. You never figured he'd become your best friend.

Tonight, you pouted into the salad you regretted purchasing yesterday because a "healthy" lifestyle was born and had died within the span of your forty minute shopping trip. And now, you wanted nothing but another wet, shiny pizza, and Steve Harrington's dumb jokes.

He ate in his room. Shuffled out while you were finishing Notting Hill and made another bland chicken-rice-and-broccoli dinner. And then he shuffled past you, shut his door, and ate it alone. Never even giving you a chance to tease his unseasoned plate for the purpose of "gains." You thought he could remain just as toned and handsome with flavor on his food.

By the time you were showered, redressed, and gurgling with lingering hunger, you were properly sour with guilt.

And maybe the black sweatpants with the bedazzled jewels on your ass were pulled on with manipulative purpose before you shuffled to Steve's door. You lingered there a while, gnawing on the skin around your thumbnail and glancing between the wood grain of Steve's door and the plush surface of your yellow slippers. At this proximity, you could hear the low hum of his radio behind the door. He had a strange affection for the 70s and 80s station.

If only you knew that it was because Steve knew "the all time hits of the 70s and 80s" were your favorite.

The radio dimmed, and a moment later Steve's voice called through the door. "I can hear you lingering out there."

You jumped, stepping away from the door. Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth piercing the skin to nibble it away. The shuffle of feet and jingle of the doorknob came too swiftly for you to evade, and then the door swung open to reveal Steve in grey sweatpants and a tight red t-shirt. He looked good in red, too.

"Oh. Hi," you murmured, hand instantly dropping to your side.

Steve caged the doorway, biceps bulging on either side. You averted your eyes with a swallow.

He sighed. "Hi."

Steve watched you sweep a slippered foot back and forth like sloshing through water. He tipped his head and bit away a smile when he caught the edge of a jewel on your hip. His favorite sweatpants.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve sighed again, this time a little shaken with laughter. "No, kid. I ain't mad at ya."

To prove his point, he nudged the door open with his palm and motioned toward the bedroom behind him. "Come on in."

You flopped on the edge of his bed, bounced up and down by old springs. Steve swung the door closed and joined you, easing back against his wooden headboard to reassume his rumpled position. He reached toward the nightstand and turned the knob on the radio to lower the Elton John song playing.

Steve snatched the small plastic basketball from behind the radio and tossed it in the air. "So, what's goin' on?"

You watched the ball soar into the air and come back down into his palm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just...cranky."

Steve quirked a brow, catching your eye over an orange blur when he threw the ball again. "Yeah? That all?"

The corners of your mouth pulled down. "Yeah...? What else would it be."

Steve shrugged, chin turned up toward the ceiling as he watched the basketball fly toward it. Elton John died down and switched to Def Leppard. "Hysteria" was one of Steve's favorite songs.

"You tell me. You were having a Julia Roberts marathon."

"So?" Your thumb returned to your mouth, teeth ripping at the skin.

"You only watch Julia Roberts when you're sad."

"Not true."

Steve fixed his head straight again, eyes narrowing into a pointed look. The basketball sat in his right palm against his chest. You huffed, angling yourself toward the door to glare at it instead of your roommate and his smug, all knowing expression.

He waited a while, like he always did—waiting out your stubbornness and refusing to let it break him. You could talk to him, you knew that. He wanted you to know that.

"I guess..." You sighed, throwing yourself back on the bed with your arms locked over your eyes. "I guess I'm just upset that Eddie still hasn't called. I've been calling and texting him, but...he doesn't wanna see me."

Steve immediately felt every blood cell in his body curdle. Like they were burning and festering, irritated under his skin. He swallowed, bringing the basketball to sit between his knees where he could pick at the design with blunt fingernails.

"And you want to see him?"

You dropped your arms, letting them plop to your sides. "I mean...yeah."

Steve couldn't help it—he scoffed.

The sound had your head turning, brows furrowed his way. His head was shaking, eyes focused distinctly downward to avoid yours. All the smugness of his expression dimmed into something distasteful and angry.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Nothing."

"You scoffed."

"I sighed."

"No, you scoffed."

"Well—"

This time, Steve did sigh. He took the basketball in his hands and chucked it toward the door, causing it to boomerang off the wood and catapult back toward the mattress again. The sharp smack had you jolting upward, and your eyes widened on Steve when he hopped from the bed and stood to his feet.

"What the hell—"

"He's not good enough for you!"

You paused on weak wrists used to push you upward. Steve stood a foot away from the bed with pink cheeks and outstretched hands. They curled back toward him to sweep through his hair and tug hard at the roots.

"Steve—"

"He sucks. Alright? All your ex boyfriends sucked, but especially Eddie. He didn't understand you, he didn't appreciate you. He made you cry, for fuck's sake, and you want him back? I just don't get it."

Your lips parted, but it felt like gulping for water on dry land. And Steve watched, helplessly, as you stammered for words in the face of his impending and inevitable confession. Inevitably painful, he knew, but he could no longer stomach the tireless routine of finding the body closest to yours in another dark bar, hoping she would comfort him enough to soothe the ache he had for you.

You, who slept across the hall and shared the sofa with your head on his shoulder. You, who looked at him like some sort of light source with those little round eyes. You, who made his heart pound and weep endlessly every second that you were near, and every moment you were away—leaving him in a constant, centrifugal loop of torture.

So—knowing it might ruin every bit of good the pair of you worked so hard to keep—Steve stepped closer to the bed and swallowed. He prepared himself to form the words he'd practiced a million times over in his head.

"I just figured that eventually...you'd get tired of all the wrong guys, and realize that...I'm here. That it was me, that you loved me. Because I love you—don't you love me?"

He paused, but it would never have been enough time for your mind to process his proclamation. He had a look of such anguish embedded in his features, all scrunched and screwed together with wet, shiny eyes.

"And I figured it was easier to sleep my way around than sit and watch you waste your time with these idiots. But they were never you. And I never bothered to get to know them, because I only wanted to know you."

Your breath hitched when Steve crowded your corner of the bed, hands clasped over his chest. You had to tip your head back to meet his eye, and you felt your arms shake in their locked position holding you up. The sight of him blurred with the onset of your own hot, salty tears.

Steve sniffed: a wet slurp proceeded by a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it quickly and sank to his knees before you on the bed, hands coming to cradle your bent knees.

"I just can't take it any longer," he whispered, and his hazel eyes were like shiny coins gazing up at you.

His lips were wet with his own tears. His tongue swept them away. Every breath inhaled rattled in his chest, and every exhale shuddered his cheeks full. He chuckled when he rubbed his palm into his eye and turned it red, sweeping his forearm over his face to clear the tears again but they just kept coming.

"Fuck, say something, please," he huffed, lacing it with laughter despite its absence of humor.

Your throat felt like it swelled to twice the size. Sickness rolled in your stomach. But it only grew at the thought of breaking Steve's heart with your silence. Because the longer he looked at you with those almond eyes, and the longer he sniffled and massaged your knees to comfort himself—the more your heart crumbled.

"I...I don't know what to say," you croaked.

Steve inhaled again, stuttering through a sniffle. He wiped his cheek on your knee and chuckled again. "Yeah. Yeah, of course—it's okay."

"Steve—"

"It's okay," he insisted, scrambling to his feet. He backed away toward the door and you finished pulling yourself upright.

"Steve, wait—"

"Really, it's okay, honey. I'm just gonna...—we ran out of ice cream, so 'm gonna g-go—go get some. Mint chip, yeah? Okay."

He sniffled again upon his exit, slipping through a small crevice he opened the door to. The front door slammed shut moments later, and you rolled onto your stomach to unleash a scream into Steve's mattress.

"Stay tuned for more all time hits of the 70s and 80s!"

✶ ✶

Steve did not return with the mint chip until nearly midnight. It came in a plastic bag that announced his arrival even before the clamber of keys. Yet, it was the squeal of old hinges that woke you from your couch slumber, and you jolted upright as the door swung open.

Steve closed the door and stood there for a moment, spotting you in the dimness of the living room. You rubbed your eye and he shifted on his feet. Ted scampered off the couch and butted at Steve's calf.

He held up the plastic bag. "Got the mint chip. It's uh...it's all melted now, though."

You wanted to reply, to make him feel better again. His eyes were still pink and puffy, and you hated the thought of him spending hours in his car or another dark bar agonizing over what you might be thinking. Worst of all, regretting any of what he said.

Because you spent the past few hours doing plenty of thinking. You laid in his bed, curled on your side, and looked at all the pictures pinned to a cork board above his desk.

The sepia toned film strip from a wedding last fall where you took him as your date. You were smiling in every one, and to the unbeknownst you might have already appeared as a couple.

The Polaroid from his most recent birthday, where you were sitting on his shoulders and clutching onto his hair for dear life. His sister took the picture.

The black and white he printed from his phone of just you on a park bench, feeding the ducks. You never even knew he had that one.

And when you shuffled to your room, you suddenly stopped. The clack of hard-bottomed slippers caught your attention, and you looked down at the plush yellow footwear around your toes—a gift from Steve.

You stood on the other side of your bed and stared at the windowsill full of miscellaneous yellow items all gifted from Steve. The movie ticket stubs shoved in your mirror and the hundreds thrown in a box on your dresser because you'd probably seen a thousand over the years with Steve, who loved movie theater popcorn and sitting close to you in the dark.

The birthday cards he wrote extensive messages of well wishes and gratitude for your friendship in with terrible penmanship. The purse he bought you for that you said you liked in passing but would never spend that much money on, and the note still tucked inside the zipper that came pasted to the bag on Christmas morning:

Because you deserve it.

Love, Steve

And then you ended up on the couch, falling asleep watching the door and waiting for it to open.

Steve trudged to the kitchen while you were lost in thought, and you hurried to catch up as he swung the freezer open. He wrapped the plastic bag around the pint of the ice cream and stuck it on the top shelf, hand reaching to close the door—when he was pushed forward by a force crashing into him.

And then there was warmth around his stomach: two arms curling around his ribs. Two hands pressing to his stomach and pulling him in. Steve stopped, immobilized in the open freezer door.

"I'm sorry," you breathed into his shirt, eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I was just so stunned. And I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, Steve, for letting this go on for so long. Of course I love you, of course you love me—God, I just never wanted to ruin everything. But you make me so happy, and I—"

Steve spun around, causing your head to lift off his back. You went to drop your arms, but he instantly brought them around his neck. Two hands, still frozen from melting ice cream, braced your cheeks.

"You mean it?"

You nodded in his hold, happy to see his hazel eyes free and clear of tears. "Yes. Yes, of course I mean it—"

"Oh, thank fucking God," Steve breathed, and then his mouth descended on you.

You curled to the tops of your toes to press into his kiss, whimpering at the warmth and softness of his lips. It felt exactly as you thought it would—anticipating their plushness every time he pressed his lips to your cheek over the years.

It lasted until the pair of you were breathless, and you heaved for air upon release. Steve brushed his thumbs over your bottom lip, smearing spit and hemming your airless grin.

He kissed you all night, and let his hands roam where they could not roam before. You fell asleep in his bed tucked under his arm, and when you woke you shared the refrozen pint of mint chip with one spoon.

And when Steve called his sister while you were showering to share the good news, all she did was laugh.

"Jesus, about fucking time."

[ariahmichelle]

I want to be that someone- Drew Starkey x actress!reader.

This is a part 2 to ‘Phoning it in’ Part 1 here

You were home now, but your mind wasn’t. Sitting cross-legged on your couch, you stared at your phone resting on the coffee table, Drew’s text still lighting up the screen.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart had been racing since the moment you’d read it. You still hadn’t replied, and it wasn’t like you to leave Drew hanging. You two had always been easy—no overthinking, no awkward pauses, just years of natural friendship. So why did your stomach flip at the thought of what he wanted to talk about?

You knew why. You’d felt something shift during that prank call. You weren’t sure if it was Drew’s fake marriage proposal, his insistence that you couldn’t leave Outer Banks, or the way his voice softened when he told you he’d miss you too much. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten in a way that you couldn’t ignore.

Finally, with a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and typed out a reply.

Sorry, I got caught up at the studio. I’ll be over at 7?

The dots indicating Drew was typing popped up almost immediately, giving you the go ahead.

Two hours later, you stood outside Drew’s apartment, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. This was ridiculous. You’d been here a million times before. But now, everything felt different. With a steadying breath, you knocked.

The door opened, and there he was, his familiar crooked smile greeting you. But even Drew looked a little… off. His usual easy confidence seemed to falter, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the awkwardness settle between you like a weight.

You both walked into the living room, where the table was already set with takeout. It was a normal thing for you two—sharing meals and laughing about whatever ridiculous thing had happened on set that day. But tonight, the tension was thick, and you both seemed to feel it.

Over dinner, you tried to keep things light, cracking jokes and filling the silence with small talk. Drew played along, but his usual playful sarcasm was subdued. He seemed distracted, like he was waiting for the right moment to say something.

You couldn’t take it anymore. After dinner, as you both moved to the couch, you turned to him, clutching a throw pillow in your lap.

“Drew,” you started, your voice coming out shakier than you intended. “What’s going on? You said you wanted to talk about something.”

Drew fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh…” He let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this without making things weird.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. “If it’s about the prank, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or—”

He cut you off, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. Well, kind of, but not in the way you think.”

You blinked, confused. “Then what is it?”

Drew exhaled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “When you mentioned going on Love Is Blind, it… it stirred something up in me. At first, I thought I was just worried about you leaving acting, but then I realized it wasn’t just that.”

You sat frozen, watching him intently. He looked nervous—genuinely nervous—and that wasn’t like him.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “The idea of you being with someone else, putting yourself out there for someone like that, whether it was thought some show or meeting someone anywhere else, made me realize something. I want to be that someone.”

Your breath caught, and your cheeks heated instantly.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it for a while,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But when I thought about you actually finding someone on that show, my heart just… dropped. And I couldn’t shake it. That prank just made me realize how much I… care about you. More than I probably should as your friend.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Your heart was pounding, and the words Drew had just spoken hung in the air, heavy and raw.

“Is this your payback prank?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to lighten the moment and hide how flustered you were.

Drew let out a soft laugh, his tension easing slightly. “No, it’s not,” he said, reaching out to take your hand. “I promise, it’s not.”

His hand was warm, steadying your nerves as he gave it a gentle squeeze.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your cheeks still burning. “You were the first person I thought of for that prank,” you admitted quietly. “Not just because I thought you’d find it funny, but because… I wanted to see if there was even a sliver of a chance that my feelings weren’t one-sided.”

Drew’s eyes softened, and he leaned closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not one-sided,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes flicked from his to his lips, and your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. “Can I kiss you?” he murmured.

You nodded slowly, and Drew closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, but as you leaned into him, it deepened, years of unspoken feelings finally coming to the surface.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Drew laughed softly and tugged you closer, shifting you into his lap.

“This is insane,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “Our castmates are going to freak.”

Drew chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “Let’s keep it our little secret for now,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. No pressure, no rush. Just… us.”

You smiled, feeling more at ease than you had in weeks. “Just us,” you echoed, leaning in to kiss him again.

————————

Let me know what u think! Anyone want a part 3 where the cast find out ?

[anakins-starlight]

Having more silly thoughts about Farmer!Anakin!!

It was quiet. Too quiet. A few minutes ago before the air around you had turned silent, you heard and saw Anakin hammering against the fences outside while watching him from the little pink window of the kitchen. At first, he refused to paint it pink, but how could he deny the wishes of his wife who's also the mother of his sweet baby girl?

With a loud sigh, he turned around, looking at you inside the house. He throws the hammer back into his tool box and makes a little 'cmere' motion with his fingers. He seemed mad.

You put your baby into her crib, stroking her cheek one last time while she squeals, before quickly walking outside to your garden. Some of the lambs immediately run up to you, and with a loud giggle, you push yourself through the herd.

“Hun..you remember what you told me in the morning? Before I left for the market.” He asks strictly, holding you softly with his rough hands at your hips.

“Uhh..mhm hm! I told you l that I'll cook your favourite dinner tonight!” 

“Yeeees baby, but that's not what I mean,” he replies, trying to keep up his tough guy facade. You were just so sickly sweet; he could never stay mad at you.

With a sigh, he points towards the clothes line where your towels and some of his shirts are hanging. “You promised you'd get the clothes off and fold them together before I came back.”

"Awhhhh that, I forgot. I'm sorry..I was playing with the baby the whole time and completely forgot.” You mumbled, looking down a little.

To others, it would seem irrelevant. 'Oh, she didn't get the clothes and towel off, horribleeee’. But for you, it was bad. Anakin did everything for you. Paid the bills, worked around the house and farm, ect. Yet, you couldn't even remember to fold the clothes together.

“Sigh. It's fine, baby. I'm not mad, okay? Let's do it together, alright? We'll be faster that way.” He replied with a smile, wiping his hands with a cloth before putting it back into his pockets.

He lays a hand on the small of your back and leads you to the clothing line. When he noticed the tears in your glossy eyes he sighed. “Don't cry..I told you it's fine, alright?” He picks up the basket and starts to take the clothes and towels off the clothing line with you while folding them in the air. His muscles were just begging to get out of that tight shirt he was wearing.

“See? 's waaaay quicker this way.” He commented, following you while you carried the basket back inside your little house you called home.

While you carry it upstairs, he goes to pick up your baby out of her crib in the living room, holding her softly while kissing her all over her chubby face. She squeals and reaches out for his collar with her small fists.

“Hopefully you don't grow up to be as clueless as your mama..” 

[kitsuga]

Daily. {March (FOM) x Reader/Farmer} 

Description: 

A fic in which March doesn’t like changes to his daily routine. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────  

Tags: fluff, a swear word or two (or three), drinking, alcohol mention, hemlock spotted!!! Being a dad!!!, CLINGY and PATHETIC march agenda, not betad, not edited, gender neutral reader, fields of mistria/fom x reader/farmer, march x reader, march (fields of mistria)/(FOM) x reader/farmer, whatever tag you want i guess go crazy with ur imagination, 

Word Count: 2,879 

A/N: Written on: October 7, 2024  

I wonder if i love march because i usually AM the march. Self-conscious. Angry. Unapproachable. Dyed hair. Likes to hit things with hammers and gets way too happy when drunk. Anyway, LKSJDFHIUE fields of mistria helped me through terrible time recently; i scooped up its early access almost IMMEDIATELY and have been so in love with it since!! 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

He hadn’t realized it, but March grew fairly used to seeing that new farmer pass by the forge day after day. It became almost... routine, to see them from his peripheral and feel the twitch of his brow, ignoring the sudden increase of heat against his face that was surely from the forge he busied himself with.  

Some days they’d stop to annoy him, while he’d spare a few words out of the kindness of his heart, other days they’d simply throw him a smile and a wave, continuing their walk to wherever it was they’d decide to go that time. There were days they even ignored his presence and hurried on by—those were the days March liked the most, he was unbothered and uninterrupted—coincidentally, they were also the days he had the most trouble trying to fall asleep. Whatever. 

It was a constant, something expected, he would see them walk by his forge at least once a day. They’d dance along the path—hopping, skipping—frolicking through flower petals that danced in the wind alongside them in the crisp, spring air. They’d have days where they would practically sprint by and rush their hellos to make it to the beach, and others where they’d drag their feet and loudly bark up the wrong tree about the heat in the harsh summer sun. Fallen leaves would make constant crunching sounds as they’d make sure to find and step on every damn one just to get on March’s nerves with a giant smile on their face when autumn would roll around. He did get a laugh or two in when hidden ice had made them fall as they goofed around during the winter—he'd be oh-so-kind and let them warm up by the forge for a minute before they went about their day.  

Even through the seasons, this daily greeting was a constant. March hadn’t realized just how much of an impact this would have on his day-to-day schedule—or maybe he had and pushed away the thought—regardless of the true reasoning, it only donned on him when he found himself fidgeting and attempting to keep busy one day, to stay outside just a bit longer to catch sight of them, only to be graced by the lonely presence of the moon instead. 

Where were they today? Not that it mattered to him. They were probably out doing God knows what, making everyone in the town love them even more. Gross. March shook his head, trying to dispel the images of the farmer that continued to pop up in his mind. He didn’t want to see them. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t come by to annoy him. It didn’t bother him. 

But where in the world were they? He stepped onto the road, looking as far along the horizon as he could every which way. Had he just missed them? Maybe they snuck by him earlier, deciding that they’d leave him alone—maybe he’d just gotten so good at tuning them out that he never noticed them go by. Did they make it home alright? Whatever, it wasn’t his problem. He’d go inside and wash the day from him, relax, have a nice dinner with his brother, and get some sleep. 

He thought it’d be so simple. March felt as though his night passed him by—like he was looking at it through a stack of different paintings rather than living it first-hand. He couldn’t get that damn newcomer out of his head! Every waking thought was either accompanied by their face, their voice, or events including them replaying in his head. Now he lay in bed, looking up at his ceiling as the moonlight poured through the window, unable to get his mind to stay still. 

Did they go to the mines today? If they did, were they alright? Did something happen? Were they hurt? Had they exhausted themselves and passed out somewhere? Were they home? Had they eaten, washed up, tucked themselves into bed? March held his head in his hands, hoping if he squeezed it hard enough, he’d shut off his brain. It was driving him crazy! Why was he even thinking any of this—he didn’t care about them, he didn’t like them one bit! They were an annoyance, a pain in his ass, some... outsider! Why couldn’t he just go to sleep!  

The break of dawn welcomed him far too quickly, dragging him out of bed without a wink of sleep. Fine, whatever. He’d see them come by today and he’d just ask what their problem was. Maybe they were just home sick yesterday; sucks for them—maybe they should get better. No, not in a caring way! March rubbed at his face, smacking his cheeks lightly to snap himself out of it. He had things to do, he was going to do them. He was going to set his mind straight, focus, and go about his own day. 

Why weren’t they walking by! March held the hammer in his hand so tightly he started to shake, his teeth would shatter if he kept grinding them as hard as he was. The sun was setting and he still hadn’t seen them—not even a glimpse! He only got a fraction of his tasks done today; constantly looking over his shoulder to check if they had gone by, or standing out in the middle of the road to stare in all directions for a while to see if he could catch them coming. That makes two days now, don’t they know they were ruining his schedule? He found himself tossing and turning again that night, hardly getting any sleep as worry started to creep into his chest. 

Another day, then another, and another after that. Each day that had gone by without so much as a glimpse of them had now made his chest heavy—he didn’t like it. He didn’t know why it was bothering him so much. He entertained the thought of going to their home once or twice just to check in on them—yell at them for ruining his work—but something gnawed at him each time. What if they were avoiding him?  

Yeah, he wasn’t the nicest to them. He didn’t care that he wasn’t. Maybe they DID start avoiding him—that was their choice. It’d be good for him, after all! He wouldn’t have to deal with them distracting him, or... trying to be his friend. Maybe it did bother him that he wasn’t very nice to them. Maybe he did care, just a little bit. 

When Friday rolled around, he ended up at the tavern early, and drinking heavy. He just wanted to rid himself of these feelings, these thoughts. If he couldn’t work as a distraction or sleep them away, maybe drinking them away would work instead. It usually didn’t take much for his head to get lighter, to shed all his worries and let himself be all smiles and laughter, but he was desperate to keep his thoughts at bay. What if they were avoiding him so much that they’d even stop showing up to tavern nights? He knocked back another drink and laid his head on the bar’s counter. 

“You doing alright there, March?”  

March turned so he could face the voice, closing his eyes once his cheek touched the cool counter. 

“I’m FINE, Hemlock...” Was that voice coming from him? Which way was the room spinning? “Just fine...” 

“I’m thinking you’ve had enough for tonight,” Hemlock shook his head and tried taking March’s half-empty glass, “but you can talk about what’s wrong if you want. No pressure.” 

“Nooo,” March drew out his protest, not bothering to raise his head as he grabbed onto his glass, “don’t take that.” 

“Fine, alright. It’s the last one though, alright?” 

Hemlock leaned against the counter in front of him, staring at the young disheveled boy in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow, thinking for a moment before his eyes lit up in realization. Mischievously, he leaned even closer to the faux red-head and called out just loud enough for him to hear, while keeping his plan believable. 

“Oh, hey (Y/n)!” 

“WHERE?” 

March sat straight up, unsure if the deep red creeping over his features was from being drunk, thinking about seeing them, or if all the blood rushed to his head at once from how quickly he moved. He did not last very long before laying his head back on the counter, a fist crashing down beside it. 

“Spinning, spinning, should NOT have done that...” 

“Ah, I had a feeling that was the root of your little problem.” Hemlock teased, once he caught his breath after laughing at the poor boy’s expense. “What issue do you have with them now?” 

“No... no issue,” March had to calm his breathing. Was he flustered? Oh, no, just trying not to throw up. Wait, was he sure? “Maybe an issue. I don’t know. Why are they avoiding me?” 

“Could be because you aren’t very nice to them.” 

“I’m sooo super nice to them.” 

“Uh-huh...” Hemlock pushed a glass of water onto the counter, trying to slowly switch out March’s two drinks. “Have you tried going to see them?” 

“...I don’t want to find out it’s because they hate me.��� 

“Oh, so that’s the real reason.” 

March lifted his head enough to peek up at the older man before turning his gaze to the hand beside him, now dragging his finger along the counter in circles to distract him. 

“I don’t get it. Why haven’t they been by all week? Why... does it bother me so much in the first place?” March closed his eyes again, trying to steady the room. “I like to come here and have some fun; why am I still all upset?” 

Hemlock pushed the water glass further towards March, slowly bringing his glass of beer closer to the back of the bar counter, stopping whenever March stirred slightly. It was a pity, really; Hemlock was well aware of what (Y/n) had been up to—if they were purposefully avoiding March, then they certainly never expressed it. If he remembered correctly, he questioned why they were walking so painfully slow from the tavern the other night, almost comically dragging out each step as they looked up the road behind them. 

‘Should I book you for your new comedy routine?’ 

‘I’m just... takin’ my time, Hemlock! Nothing odd about it.’ 

He remembered watching as they drug their shoe against the road to make their next step, slow as a snail. 

‘Uh... yup, nothing odd about it all right. Everything alright, (Y/n)?’ 

They had given him a sigh then, their body almost melting to the ground as they voiced their woes—too busy to make it anywhere but their farm and the tavern for some dinner at the end of the day, something about cleaning up the old place. It was almost killing them having to stay there instead of running off—or rather, running by the blacksmith. 

‘Isn’t March always giving you a hard time, anyway?’ He remembered asking, putting the back of his hand on his hip and smiling—he already knew the answer. 

‘That won’t stop me!’ They stood triumphantly then, stomping their foot on the ground. ‘I WILL get that boy to be my friend, whether he likes it or not!’ 

Hemlock remembered the shy heat that crept up their neck, touching their ears first before it reached their smile and they had to turn away from him before getting embarrassed further. 

‘Besides...’ their voice was soft, he thought, ‘when you get into a routine, the withdrawals... suck.’ 

Hemlock was brought back to the present by March blindly dragging his drink back to him, reversing all of his hard, secret work. He sighed, a smile on his face as he gave up and picked up an empty glass to start washing it. 

“Well,” he put on his wise father voice, “’when you get into a routine, the withdrawals... suck.’” 

Silent hung above both men a moment before March lifted his head with a confused glare. 

“Huh?” 

“Huh. I thought that would’ve been much cooler than it was. Context was probably better, in hindsight.” 

Both turned their attention to the opening tavern doors, a familiar figure now gracing the open room. A few others called out to them first, receiving a smile, a wave, and a short conversation in return. March sat up straight, ignoring how light headed it made him feel this time. 

“(Y/N)! Heyyy!" He practically drawled out his greetings. “C’mere, c’mere!” 

The heat from his blush was intermingling with the heat from being drunker than Hell, so he no longer paid it any attention. March eagerly patted the counter next to him, practically begging for them to come sit with him. If he were a dog, his tail would have wagged so intensely as the wide smile on his face mirrored theirs as they made their way over. 

“Uh, hi there March! Had enough to drink already?” 

“You’re here!” March let a genuine, heartfelt giggle bubble up from his chest at how light their presence alone made him feel. 

“I am—oh! Okay--” 

March practically threw himself against them, his head against their shoulder while they tried to hold onto the drink Hemlock has just offered them. His bottom lip jutted out, a very prominent pout, as he started to drag his finger along their extended arm now, drawing little shapes like he had done previously to the counter. 

“...Where were you?” His voice grew oddly quiet. “You haven’t been by in days.” 

“Well, I--” (Y/n) tried to explain. A heavy wave of guilt washed over them, a huge pang of pain shooting through their heart at how March looked up at them—sad, puppy dog eyes, his metaphorical ears and tail drooping as though he were sopping wet from the rain. They had to grip at their heart, almost comically, dramatically, throwing their head back in despair at just how evil they had been! 

“I’m sorry! I had a lot of work on the farm, you know? There’s a lot of cleaning up to do there before I can think about maybe expanding my crops, or working on a barn, you know?” They stuck their lips out into a pout of their own, gently patting March’s exposed cheek with their other hand. “Didn’t mean to make you worry.” 

March looked back down at their arm again, now dragging his finger up and down it, quietly mumbling, hoping that they wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“Wasn’t worried...” he started, mumbling even softer, “Just... missed you.” 

Though he thought it were quiet enough, a drunk person’s reality never seems to match; (Y/n) stared down at him, almost dumbstruck at how loudly he had professed his feelings—they weren’t much, but those words alone proved to (Y/n) that there really WAS some sort of fire in that frozen heart of his! Their gaze softened as they slowly turned their arm over, opening and closing their palm a few times to signal an offer. 

March almost immediately, willingly, took their hand and interlaced their fingers. He kept his eyes trained on their hands, studying the way their fingers seemed to fit perfectly between his. After they gently leaned their head against his, he spoke again—a little more clearly this time. 

“So... you don’t hate me?” It sounded pained. 

“No, I don’t hate you in the slightest, March.” 

“...You weren’t avoiding me?” 

“Not at all.” They gave his hand a little squeeze. “Is that what you thought this whole time? Is that why you’re so clingy tonight?” 

“...No.” March huffed, closing his eyes and turning his face away, though he doesn’t dare take his head off of their shoulder. Their soft laugh surrounded him like a soft melody, and he relished in it a moment before speaking up again. “Don’t ruin my daily schedule. Come by at least once a day.” 

“Alright,” they laughed again, “Demanding, much?” 

“You’re making it difficult to get my work done. To sleep. Just—come by at least once so I can see you and have a good day.” 

(Y/n) nuzzled against the top of his head slightly, a smile hidden from his view as they agreed, choosing to ignore the nervous way March started to fidget, and ignoring the way butterflies flew rampantly in their stomach. With their free hand, they brought the glass of water Hemlock had been trying to push on him all night up to his lips, encouraging him to drink at least a bit. 

At least for the night, tension between them had settled—whatever tension they chose to believe there was. March’s chest felt lighter, a weight lifted off his shoulders, as he basked in their glow rather than the cold, lonely moon’s, just for tonight. A goofy, genuine smile made its way up to his eyes, watching as he messed with (Y/n)’s hand and easily accepted any time they gave him water. 

“You’ll forget all this tomorrow, huh?” 

“Yup.” He smiled, giving their hand a squeeze and slightly cuddling further into their shoulder. 

“You’ll go back to hating me tomorrow too, then?” 

“As long as you remember to come by, absolutely.” 

[papafuckingemeritus]

NOT MINE, but and absolute incredible theory on Ghost in the Trees found on Ghostbc subreddit that is too good not to share. Credit to VisAeternitatus on Reddit.

“Buckle up. You'll either find this interesting, or tell me I'm insane.

“The "Ghost in the Trees" VHS tape sitting atop the stack of other videos in the movie caught my attention because it simply doesn't fit and doesn't have anything to do with anything that we know of. Kinda like the cardinal sitting on top of the gravestone in the Square Hammer video. At the time, so random- yet it was a hint. We see this VHS tape twice during the movie, and it's sitting on top of an Infestissumam era tour video ‘Haze over North America Tour 2013’

“I googled "Ghost in the Trees" and came across this psychedelic garage art-rock album by a band called Thee Oh Sees. There's a song of the same name on their album, "The Masters Bedroom is Worth Spending a Night In". Other than carnal delights, why might one spend a night in the Master's bedroom? Usually something to do with conceiving the antichrist, right?

“The album cover and subject matter seemed Ghost-related enough for me to continue going down the rabbit hole, so I listened to the entire album. I have no doubt in my mind that TF is familiar with and has listened to this, I get a lot of raw vibes from it that one might perceive in all three Nihil-era songs.

“So why is this here, and what does it have to do with anything? Good question, and I honestly don't know but I just thought I'd throw out some possible breadcrumb trails. This is all some pretty loosely related stuff, but when considered all together who knows?

“1. I immediately noticed a similarity that the devil on Thee Oh Sees album has to the devil in the center panel of the red tour backdrop that started going up during Square Hammer (third photo).

“2. Proximity to the Infest era tour video along with some Papa II-related stuff in the movie also had me thinking "antichrist stuff". No, not that Copia is the antichrist. Rather, that his twin might be.

“Why? Well, during sister's life flashback scene, right before the twin birth is shown, there are a series of hidden images. We see an eclipse, a still shot from the Year Zero video of a hand reaching up towards a church window, a b&w still from the Dance Macabre video where the devil arrives, and two separate shots of Infest era ghouls. (These images go by so fast that they are practically subliminal!)

“So why are we seeing clips from a Papa II era song, and shots of his ghouls? Why do we see a cut to his face on the stained glass stage backdrop during the movie when Imperator is talking about how everything is "cyclical"? We even see Infestissumam in the background of the VEEPS bonus video.

“So I've seen different theories. Papa II is returning! Copia is the antichrist! Etc, etc.

“I think showing all the Papa II stuff could have something to do with the antichrist, not that Papa II is coming back. Infestissumam was about the antichrist's time on earth. Not to mention that some religious people believe that an eclipse supposedly occurs at the birth of the antichrist (and we are shown an eclipse right at the birth scene!)

“Also, we've seen a lot of antichrist type of imagery related to Copia, he's got the 666 tattoo, etc. If he's a copy (Copia), then his twin could be the antichrist.

“3. Back to the red devil background that appears during Square Hammer. There's a winged pope figure shown above the devil. I thought it was Copia, to be honest. But he's wearing a beehive shaped mitre, and the same shaped mitre appears above him, larger and wrapped in flames. This is actually a Papal Tiara, not a regular mitre. It used to be worn when a new Pope was "crowned". Why would a demon winged Copia be wearing this on a backdrop at the end of the tour? He was already "crowned" in Mexico City. And who appears at the Ministry doors at the very end?! Someone who is about to become the next Papa?

“4. I also wonder, who raised Copia's twin? And how could Copia's twin be the antichrist? Do they have two different Fathers, or was it during some ritual?! Does it have something to do with Papa II? Maybe the twin grew up influenced by him in some way?

“5. I also wonder if "Ghost in the Trees" is a musical stylistic hint of sorts, in relation to the Papa II era. This album is psychedelic post punk garage rock. It's an interesting listen and is all over the place stylistically. "Psychedelic" is frequently used to describe aspects of Infestissumam, too, as is garage rock and surf rock, even.

“I recall an interview where TF said that Phantomime was where he was leaning to take the sound for the future album. Well, there's two specific covers on Phantomime that have similar flavor to Thee Oh Sees- "See No Evil" by Television (often described as post punk/art rock/garage rock) and "Hanging Around" by the Stranglers- which has VERY psychedelic/garage rock vibes.

“So do what you will with that, but I'm wondering if the next album is going to have that element (not in the way the Nihil-era songs do, though!).

“Thank you for reading this mess and if you have any better ideas, please do share. I just wanted to get this off my chest.”

Tobias never ceases to amaze me, and I have no doubt there is something to “Ghost In The Trees.”

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

⚠ SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 93 AHEAD! ⚠

now that we have finally met demetrius, it seems like a great time to dissect his first scene and proper conversation! :]

his wide, unfocused stare hides ✨unexpected complexity���, as expected of a desmond

he's impatient (common desmond trait at this point)

he's nonchalantly exceptional, as we expected and have been repeatedly told thus far

...but most importantly, amidst a sea of accomplishments, he is burdened with a lack of people skills and visibly frustrated by it, as evidenced by his conversation with damian in this chapter.

the analysis and speculation continues under the cut!!

so, a breakdown of the main meat of his introduction

similarly to every single time there's an interaction between damian and another desmond, damian is the one who reaches out first by calling out to demetrius, who immediately asks him what he wants. damian tries to begin with small talk, congratulating him on his accomplishments of the day

demetrius is brief and to the point, but it doesn't feel to me like he is annoyed here. perhaps curious, perhaps indifferent, we don't know -- demetrius is a boy of few explanatory thoughts, after all

merely in the next page, demetrius is revealed to have a blank mind for most of this conversation.

i don't believe this is a sign that demetrius was experimented on or anything. obviously, this does not rule out that he has been experimented on, but i don't think his lack of thoughts are indicative of that, nor do i believe anya was too far away (in previous chapters, she has read the thoughts of people at greater distances than this with ease!). i think this has something to do with his upbringing, but also very importantly his state of mind at the moment

his eyes are wide open, but his stare is unfocused. i think this is an intentional choice to hammer in that he's not really here at this moment, listening to what is undoubtedly to him pointless praise. he has likely tuned all of it out completely.

(as a side note, if we wanna involve anya in this situation more, we could assume that he is intentionally cloaking his thoughts from anya or any other potential mind-readers, but while i do think donovan is very likely involved in project apple, i severely doubt the financial benefactors of project apple would spend likely a lot of money to figure out a way to shield the thoughts of a middle schooler, regardless of who his dad is, from potential telepaths. as far as we know, anya is the only one with this specific power and demetrius is unlikely to have any information that would incriminate the operation. if that was an issue, i don't see why they wouldn't spend their money to protect melinda's mind, since she likely has way more info than demetrius ever could.)

moving on from that side note though,

we do not see demetrius' face as he says this! this is important to me

we are left unaware to whether or not he is disappointed or just trying to abscond to take a nap (he really needs one)

but then, he says this:

this, to me, is a direct attempt at connecting!! he's trying to reciprocate the small talk, the praise, trying to continue the conversation. his thought, "i don't understand him," may feel contradictory but to me, it only underlines his frustration about this, because he knows what damian is going to say next:

even though it was expected, this is not what demetrius was hoping to get out of this. his downturned eyebrows give a feeling of discontent. he is not blank, he is visibly frustrated, visibly annoyed.

and we are thus made aware of a boundary demetrius and melinda both share:

never mention donovan.

for one reason or another, this is the boundary damian has overstepped with both his mother AND his brother now, without ever being informed that it IS a boundary in the first place

so demetrius, upset, turns around to leave and throws this at damian:

this is important, because damian has shared a very similar sentiment to anya before, albeit in a mournful tone.

demetrius likely feels similarly neglected by his parents, but is long past feeling sad about it. he has moved straight to anger, understandably!

but the bigger reason for his frustration, imo, relates to a problem damian once again ALSO has: people treating them as a gateway to their father and nothing more.

demetrius has more than likely also been treated like this, and probably still is unless his peers have learned not to engage because of his brief, snippy responses, so he is familiar with the feeling of being used.

...and damian unknowingly treated him the exact same way, even though he's also grown to hate it.

of course, he's 6 years old and he meant no harm by this -- he's just a lonely boy trying to be noticed by his neglectful parents, after all, what else could he possibly do?

but for demetrius, this is the end of the conversation. he is not his father's manager, he's not even that close to him, so why does his brother only ever talk to him when it relates to their father?

as he said before: he doesn't understand him, and why he keeps doing this. does he not know there is little info to be gained?

he doesn't understand their father either, with his impossibly high expectations, never pleased, never happy, never available

and lastly, as ewen and emile try to introduce themselves

demetrius has one final thought.

and he casts aside this entire conversation, leaving the scene as empty as he entered it.

of course, the chapter doesn't end here, but this is where demetrius' involvement in it does, leaving us with a newfound understanding that while to damian, demetrius represents everything he can only strive to become... to demetrius? his accomplishments ring hollow in the face of everything he wishes he could understand.

we do get an extra flashback that hearkens back to a better yesterday, but while donovan is lacking some very important details (those scars, that dead disinterest that follows his every move -- he seems mirthful somehow here), we don't know if this scene represents a time when they were closer or if it's simply evidence that as far back as everyone can remember, demetrius has been doing nothing but studying all the time

could this be evidence of something nefarious relating to project apple? eh, not particularly, not to me. the boy's just studying hard, any relation to project apple would have to be more recent in the timeline imo

TL;DR:

demetrius has been built up throughout the past 92 chapters as a figure larger-than-life, and this has been thanks to most of our knowledge of him being directly affected by damian's perception of him, as the younger brother living under his shadow

however, he has now been humanized by his flaws: a short temper and a lack of social skills that comes paired with a clear want to connect, to understand, to converse. he seems to be a very lonely kid, everyone around him either jealous, putting him on a pedestal or actively seeking to use him under the false impression that he has important connections, and although he doesn't mean to, damian has unknowingly been treating demetrius in the same way, only seeking him out when he wants to know something about donovan.

interestingly, him and melinda share the same trigger, that being donovan himself, though we do not yet know if their reason for this is also shared.

CLOSING THOUGHTSSS

it has been so exciting finally meeting this little goober-- i thought i might never see the day 😭😭😭

thank you to whoever read this far, i literally made this blog just now so! HOPE I DID WELL!

💖

[midnight-bay-if]

i live for sarcastic asshole mcs, so if youd like, ROs reactions to mc doing the "you have blood on your sweater" bit from Wolfs to them after a fight?

also, really enjoying your if so thanks for writing (taj and umbra my beloved)

(Thank you so much! Too often, I have days where I question if I'm capable of writing at all, so it's always nice to hear people are enjoying the characters. Sorry this took a while to get to.)

S: Your middle finger shoots up, and S immediately rolls their eyes and tuts. Between you and Taj, S wonders how they haven't already settled into an early retirement. After a beat, the ridiculousness of the situation washes over them, and their tight lips inch upwards. They turn to hide it, not wishing to encourage you, but the moment you pantomimed, flashing your finger from the inside of your jacket replays in their head. Their shoulders shake with stifled chuckles, and they relax.

"You and Taj can compete for my funeral bills should either of you put me in an early grave."

Rain: All of Rain's worry morphs into shock at the sight of your middle finger. Their mouth falls open, their heart hammering. It doesn't immediately dawn on them that you're fine, but the moment it does, Rain swipes out a hand and whacks you in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry!" They exclaim, rubbing the spot they just hit. "But I was really worried!" They hit you again. "Next time, I will... Well, I don't know what I will do but I'll make sure it's very inconvenient for you. So watch out."

Taj: Taj growls at the sight of your middle finger and instantly throws up one of their own. They won't admit to having been worried, especially not now, because that means admitting you pulled one over on them. They can't do that. So, they wave their own middle finger in front of your face as you do the same. Then, just to be extra petty, they pull out the other hand and do the same.

Is it childish? Maybe, but you're smiling anyway, so who cares?

N: They fold their arms, staring at your middle finger with hard eyes. Once upon a time, such a trick would have been impossible to pull on them. They would have read your intentions like one reads a book. It's difficult to quell their ire with such lingering thoughts goading them. "Remind me which one of us is supposed to be the demon here?" But they can't remain angry at your smug expression when you seem very pleased with yourself.

It's ridiculous how cute you are.

Umbra: They had been ready to rip off their clothes to push against you and stem the bleeding, but you pull out your middle finger with a devious smirk instead. Umbra blinks. Once. Twice. Then, it dawns on them. You were pretending, playing. Their eyes search for a wound that is not there, but are grateful when they find nothing but an already drying blood stain. You're still smiling and waving your finger, and all Umbra feels is relief.

"You scared me," they mumble, their pale creeks painted crimson. "I don't know what I would do if--" they cannot bring themselves to finish the thought.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Choso realizing what love is when you almost sacrifice your life to save his

Pairing: Choso x reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: It was always a mystery to Choso Kamo, the way human emotions seem to work. But when you yank yourself right into Uraume's attack in order to save him, he slowly but surely begins to understand.

Warnings: After most of you voted for fem! pronouns, I'm using she/her to adress Uraume in this fanfic (if this doesn't sit right with you, I kindly advice you to read something else), bad bitch energy between yn and Uraume, so much angst but fluff at the same time, Choso is just the cutest I can't, as usual language and injury lol, I'm sorry if this isn't well written but I desperately wanted to finally give a fanfic to you guys again

Thanks for the request anon 🤍

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, ears ringing so violently that you feel like throwing up any minute. But there is no time to rest. You can’t stop moving now, not when his life is in danger.

Choso Kamo.

It hit you like a wall. All the feelings you desperately tried to hold back, all the affection you hold for him, how much you long for his presence when he’s not around and his touch, no matter how minor. You were never brave enough to tell him how you feel. Would he even understand your words? Is he even able to hold affection for a person apart from his brothers? It always felt as if he’s looking out for you, as if he’s staring through your back when you walk in front of him.

But it doesn’t matter right now if Choso Kamo returns your feelings. All the rubble and ash around you, the corpses splattered all over the completely destroyed streets along with the stinging smell of burnt flesh that hangs in the air makes your guts turn.

He’s so strong. You know how damn powerful he is, that not a single one of those sorcerers except for Satoru Gojo himself is enough to defeat him, but that presence you felt earlier, that man Choso decided to work for…

It doesn’t sit right with you. Whatever fought here was definitely stronger than both of you, stronger than the sorcerer you are.

Your eyes dart around the area, searching for his white robe in the darkness of the night.

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

You are so fucking tired of it all. Tired of all the fighting, tired of working in this shady business, tired of hiding your feelings. As soon as you get out of here, you will quit being a bounty hunter and confess your feelings. Yes, you will tell Choso Kamo how you really feel, how his sight alone makes sparks fly and your heart drop to the ground. You will tell him that you can’t live without him anymore and that you want to start over. Maybe somewhere far away from here, somewhere far away from jujutsu and curses. Choso…

Choso.

The sight in front of you hits you like lighting. It’s him. You really found him.

But he’s fighting. Against Geto Suguru. And that white-haired woman…

You waste no time. With neck-breaking speed you dash forward, past the other sorcerers scattered around you, past what looks like Yuji Itadori. She stretches out her finger, ice darting through the air faster than his blood manipulation ever could. Just a millisecond more and she’ll reach his head, just milliseconds until she pierces through his brain with ease, just seconds until you lose the love of your life.

“Not today, bitch.”

Out of instinct, you yank in front of him. Immediately, blood starts to spill out of your shoulder. You don’t even have to look at yourself to be aware of the fact that the beam of ice pierced right through you, leaving a gaping hole and a stinging pain that almost swallows you whole.

All Choso is able to do is stare at your back, watching how your chest rises and falls rapidly.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

How did you get here? Didn’t he distract you enough to keep you out of danger, to handle Yuji Itadori and all of this alone? You shouldn’t even be here, at Shibuya.

“I won’t leave you there alone. Also, he’s paying me pretty decent. If I make it out alive-“

“You will make it out alive.”

His large frame lingered over you, his eyes fixed on your remarkable face. He didn’t understand what came over him, why he suddenly stood this close to you, his hands grabbing your shoulders roughly.

“I won’t let you die. Never.”

Your blood runs down your body in an instant, discolouring the floor in cruel crimson. His heart skips a beat. There’s a hole in your shoulder, just a few inches away from your chest. If you moved a little differently, if you didn’t make it in time…

His eyes widen. You could be dead by now. You would have died in order to save his very own life.

“Get out of the way, stupid human”, the white-haired creature hisses, her hands ready to strike again.

Everything hurts. Oh, how much you’d love to lay in bed right now with your mind lingering around him, how much you’d love to be able to admire is beautiful sight right now. But instead, your eyes stare at her blankly, the woman with a power you never felt before. Who is she? And why is she attacking him?

“You are the one who needs to leave this place. Get away from here before I’m losing it.”

His mind races, eyes darting from the street covered in your blood to your moonlit back. You just risked your life for him. You, the most remarkable creature he ever witnessed. You, the one and only who made him feel things he still fails to understand. You with those gorgeous eyes. You have to be the bravest creature walking on this earth with a body so strong that it outstood this merciless attack this well.

But why? Why are you saving someone like him even if it means you’ll get injured in the process? Why are you standing there with your face up high and your hands clenched into fists when you should leave immediately and take care of your wounds?

All of this…For him?

“What are you doing here, (y/n)? You shouldn’t even be here.”

Choso knows he shouldn’t bark at you the way he just did, he shouldn’t look at your back with his face scrunched up like that.

“I’m here to save you, can’t you see?”, you mumble in reply.

The white-haired sorcerer lifts her hand again. Out of instinct, Choso grabs your body and yanks you away, careful to not hurt you even more in the process.

“Why did you do that, idiot?”, he hisses through gritted teeth while sprinting away at neck-breaking speed.

You look awful with your face pale like snow and your lids hanging dangerously low in your tired-looking face. Why? Why did you do this to yourself? Why did you let yourself get hurt like that in order to save him from the ray of ice? Why did you even follow him in the first place? Thick anger makes his blood boil, makes him grab your body even firmer. But no, this feeling is something apart from anger, this feeling…

“Because I love you, Choso Kamo. I’d risk my life over and over to save yours.”

His glossy eyes dart towards you in disbelief, the whole world around him disappearing for a moment. Love, the strange word he always failed to understand, the feeling he never believed even existed. He never thought about it as anything apart from the affection he holds for his brothers. But looking down at your trembling figure in his arms…

All those lonely nights he thought about you, all the stolen glances when he thought you weren’t looking, the almost unbearable urge to feel your skin against his. Is this love? Is this what you feel as well.

“You love me?”, he repeats, feet stopping in their tracks.

“I love you”, you repeat weakly.

He doesn’t know what to say anymore. Instead, he presses your body against his like he always imagined, as if his very own life depends on it. You sure feel as good as you did in his dreams, your smell is intoxicating.

“I will never let you go again, (y/n). And I will make them pay for hurting you.”

“Yuji Itadori”, he shouts behind his shoulder, walking towards the boy with rapid but confident steps.

“Take good care of her, little brother. And you-“

His eyes dart towards the white-haired creature with so much hatred in them that you hold your breath.

“I will make you regret everything you did today.”

“I love you, (y/n). I will return soon.”

With one last glance that makes your heart skip a beat, he’s gone, leaving you completely messed up. Choso Kamo told you he loves you. Choso Kamo really returns your feelings. Choso Kamo…

“Hey, stay strong, okay? We’ll get you out of here”, the voice of the pink-haired boy lingering above you speaks out gently.

“How are you still alive?”, you mumble, memories of Choso’s unfiltered loathing towards him flooding your mind.

“Apparently, he thinks I’m his brother now.”

“You must be emitting pheromones or something”, Panda comments dryly.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp I bet you like that @sanicsmut

[softhairedhotch]

AHHHH FIRST FIC OF COMFORTEMBER YEAHHHH >:D comfortember day one: safe aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader after having a rough night out, you call aaron and he rushes to find you immediately. he fixes you up and the two of you finally admit how you feel about each other. word count: 1.5k warnings/content: mentions of fighting and alcohol but mostly fluff.

comfortember masterlist here! also on ao3 <3

you make me feel safe

Aaron wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing beside him. It gets to the fourth or fifth ring by the time he grabs it and anxiety bubbles low in his gut when he realises it’s you calling at almost three in the morning. Answering the phone, he immediately asks, “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

He’s up and out of bed instantly, throwing on the first shirt he finds and the closest shoes to the bed. “Tell me where you are.”

“I’m at, uh, I don’t, I’m… somewhere. My mind is all over the place.”

Aaron’s heart hammers widely in his chest. “Somewhere? Can you look around for me and see if you recognise something? Anything?”

“Okay,” you reply, voice shaky. After a few moments, you clear your throat. “I’m outside the bar we all went to a few weeks ago.”

“The Tipsy Ship? The one closest to work?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah.”

Aaron grabs his keys and runs out of his house, not even thinking about locking the door as he runs toward his car. Jack is sleeping over at JJ's; the house will be fine unattended for now. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“I think so.”

“You think–” Aaron stops to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before shoving his phone into its holder and slamming his car door shut. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

“Can you stay on the line with me?”

“Of course.”

***

When Aaron reaches the bar, his heart breaks at the sight of you standing alone outside. He tenses up once he notices that, not only are you alone, but dry blood covers your face, there’s a large bruise forming on your cheek, and the knuckles of your dominant hand are cracked and bloody. “God,” he mutters, running straight for you and grabbing you by the shoulders. He can smell an overpowering scent of alcohol on you and he winces. “What happened? Where’s the bastard that did this to you?”

You point toward an ambulance down the road. “The coward freaked out when I punched him back and thought he needed medical attention. Most they’re gonna diagnose him with is Dumbassery and Stupid Prick Disease.” You look back at Aaron and weakly smile. “And maybe a concussion.”

Aaron can’t help it, he laughs. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humour. But let's get you home and cleaned up, alright?” 

“Can I go to yours? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

He smiles. “Of course you can.”

***

Aaron holds a wet cloth to your face, reaching out to grab your chin between his fingers gently when you flinch away. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s cold, is all.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, gently dabbing away the dried blood under your nose and the corner of your lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I got into a fight.”

“I can see that.”

You shrug, stumbling on your feet at the movement. Aaron gently grabs you by your elbow and shuffles you toward the kitchen counter so that you’re leaning against it for support. Once you’re stable, he begins to dab the other side of the cloth over your knuckles. “It was stupid, really.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” you sigh. It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch Aaron continue to clean up the blood. “He… the guy who punched me… I was on a date with him.” Aaron tenses. “And he kept buying me drinks and told me I had to drink them. I did because, well, free drinks, y’know?” You sigh and shake your head again, letting out a groan when it results in pain. “So stupid of me.”

“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid.”

“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think he was trying to make sure I was drunk enough so that he could take me home without much complaint. I don’t know. I refused because I really wasn’t in the, uh, mood, and the night was a bust anyway, and he started… tryna touch me, grab me and all that, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t want them to be and…” You stop to take a few deep breaths, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened. Aaron feels anger rip through his veins. “Anyway, he ended up punching me and I guess he wasn’t expecting me to punch back.”

Aaron grits his teeth. "Twice as hard, yeah?" 

"Twice as hard," you grin. 

“Good. That’s what I expect to hear.”

You tilt your head at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re not mad at me?”

Confused, his eyes meet yours. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, watching as his large hand moves over yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. “I woke you up.”

“You woke– You– That’s what you’re worried about?” He gives you a fond look. “Yes, you woke me up. But I’m glad you did. Thank you for calling me. And for trusting me to help you.”

“I don’t think I trust anyone more than I trust you.”

Aaron’s hand stills as the words sink in. When he looks up at you, he notices that you’re staring at him with so much love that his breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t been looked at like that in… he can’t even remember. But when he thinks about it, eyes never leaving yours as you blink innocently at him, not understanding his revelation at that moment, he realises it’s the way you’ve always looked at him. With complete and utter adoration. 

As if he hung the moon and the stars.

“Oh,” is all he can get out.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Oh.”

Your face falls and he feels guilt grow deep in his gut. “You don’t trust me back?”

“What? I never said that.” He steps closer, moving a hand to your shoulder and looking into your eyes. “Of course I trust you. More than most people. More than anyone else, really.”

“Really?”

His eyes search yours and he nods firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “Really.”

You look all over his face before looking down at his lips, licking your own as your mouth immediately goes dry. “I didn't want… I… I didn't go home with that guy because of, uh, well, you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you... when I was with him.”

Aaron hums as his gaze drops to your lips. “That’s why I don’t go on dates.”

“Hm?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He inches closer, moving a warm hand up to cup your cheek. “Can I kiss y–"

“Yea–"

And your lips are pressed together before either of you can finish. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, and full of so much raw emotion that it’s almost suffocating (in the best way). Aaron moves his lips against yours desperately, holding your face in his large calloused hands as if you might break at any moment, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The moment your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, though, he pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Shit, you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m totally taking advantage of you and–”

“Aaron.”

“I should know better and–”

“Aaron!”

“You should feel safe here–”

You press your lips against his again, effectively shutting him up. It’s a much shorter kiss this time, but not any less enjoyable. “I do feel safe, Aaron. Here, with you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You make me feel safe; you always have.”

He visibly relaxes and pulls you into a hug. “So have you.” He sighs against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too, Aaron.”

He smiles against you and holds you for a moment more before pulling back, hands still wrapped around you. His heart breaks at the sight of the dark bruise forming on your face and he leans forward to press a tender kiss against the skin, careful not to hurt you in any way. “I wonder how long we’ve liked each other.”

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I think.” 

Aaron’s breath hitches at the admission. “You’re in love with me?”

You tilt your head at him, fighting back a smile. “Did I not make that obvious enough?”

“I… didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well, get them up, Hotchner, because I’m in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron’s face softens and he presses a kiss to your cheek, sighing in relief. “I’m in love with you, too.” He runs his hands lovingly over your back. “Now let’s get you changed into some comfortable clothes and into bed, yeah? It seems like we have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“Can I sleep in your bed with you?” 

He presses another kiss to your cheek. “There’s no other place I’d rather you be, sweetheart.”

tag list: @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchs-big-hands @citrusiove @sillyhotchsgirl

lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future fics

[epnusika]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- GRI3F3R Romantic Headcanons

——————————————————————————————————

•] You must be the most patient individual in the entire world because I don't understand how you were able to handle GRI3F3R.

•] His nicknames for you are Bae, Babe, Baby, or a shortened form of your name. He's not that creative but that's okay...!

•] Would definitely show you off to his Dad that he got a partner like you—with the widest, proudest grin on his face.

"DAD! DAD!! L00K AT MY P4RTN3R, AIN'T TH3Y JUST TH3 B3ST?! HAH! 4ND U TH0UGHT I COULDN'T PULL ANY B1TCH3S!!!"

•] He then proceeds to tell his Dad everything he knows about you. He's like a highschool girl talking about their latest obsession. Which in his case is... well, you.

•] Has definitely yapped about you to his pet gorilla as well.

•] Talking about yapping... Remember the shelf in his room that was filled with unopened pack of cards? Be prepared because you're about to have hours upon hours of conversation about it. He's telling you about his favorite cards, how some of them have a lot of value and can be traded...

•] Also, he finally learned the word 'hygiene' when he got with you.

•] Anyway, he's the biggest man child ever. The first time that you were over for dinner at his Dad's, he's throwing a tantrum towards how his Dad is 'ordering' him to do the dishes.

"UGH... YOU'R3 PUSH1NG M3 AROUND AG4IN!? AND 1N FRONT 0F MY P4RTN3R TOO!? GO DO 1T YOURS3LF, DAD. 1'M A GR0WN M4N, STOP T3LL1NG ME WH4T TO DO."

•] Ironic.

•] Looking over to you though, his entire demeanor immediately switched when he saw the mortified expression on your face. He's clearing his throat, filled with shame, as he immediately stands up from his seat to gather the dirty dishes.

"ACTU4LLY... N-N3VERM1ND... SUR3 DAD, I'LL T4KE CAR3 OF THE D1SH3S."

•] Mayor Thaniyel is very grateful that his son found you. The Heavens must've heard his prayers when he prayed that his son needs to get hammered down by a peg or two.

•] Oh! And have I mentioned your bullies? No? Good, because you don't have any. With GR1EF3R as your partner, even if someone gave you the tiniest insult, he's crushing them to the dirt.

"WH4T D1D YOU JUST S4Y, PUNK!? S4Y TH4T AGA1N, I D4RE YOU. I'LL M4K3 YOU B1TE TH3 CURB. NO ON3 T4LKS TO MY P4RTN3R L1KE TH4T! AP0LOG1ZE R1GHT NOW B3FORE I CH4NGE MY M1ND 4BOUT G1VING YOU A P4SS."

•] Surprisingly, GR1EF3R'S pretty adventurous. Sure, he spends most of his time on his PC, yelling and bullying people on the internet but... When he's not? He's dragging you by the hand while you run around the jungle with giggles leaving your lips. You guys had ticked off the people of the indigenous tribe, again. For the hundredth time.

•] Still... you can't believe how flexible and agile your loser partner is.

•] Moreover, despite his enormously inflated ego, he isn't too big on PDA. He's too embarrassed to admit that he's going soft for someone. Yes, he loves you so much but... that type of thing is just out of his comfort zone.

•] That's why his love languages are gift giving and words of affirmation. At this point, he has memorized the entire jungle like the back of his hand because of how long he's lived there. So, picking up random trinkets and items around the jungle or using the pocket money that his Dad gives him so he could buy you stuff, he hands them to you in the form of a gift.

"B4BE! LOOK AT WH4T I G0T YOU! DO Y0U L1KE IT?! ...HUH? H0W D1D I G3T MY H4NDS ON TH1S Y0U ASK? 1T'S EXP3NS1VE??? N0NS3NSE!! 1 DON'T C4RE, I'LL EV3N BUY YOU AN ENT1RE BR4NDED ST0RE IF YOU 4SKED M3 TO! ANYTH1NG FOR Y0U!!!"

•] RIP Mayor Thaniyel's wallet.

•] Moving on... His words of affirmation isn't what you're imagining right now, no. If anything he's pretty bad at it. Even then, it surprisingly works on you. The slangs he uses and how he pieces words together doesn't fail to crack you up every time. At first, he's utterly puzzled when you started laughing. But then, he smiles. He's glad that you found his words silly and that he made you feel better.

•] He isn't too used to kisses, but he does have some confidence to initiate it first. Mostly just swift kisses though. Doesn't matter where but he'll do it as long as he can hide away his flustered face from you. If you caught him in a long one though, he's definitely going to want more from you. Unfortunately, he wouldn't admit it so you would have to improvise.

•] The small spoon when it comes to cuddling. Snuggled close to your body, he's grumbling about how he's just giving you the chance to be the big spoon when it's so obvious that he enjoys being held.

"DON'T L00K AT M3 L1KE THAT... AS 1F I ENJ0Y B3ING IN TH1S POS1TI0N... WH4... H-H3Y! DON'T M0VE YOUR 4RMS AW4Y! K3EP 1T WR4PP3D AR0UND M3. TSK..."

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days. 

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers. 

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed. 

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered. 

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern. 

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar. 

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing. 

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you. 

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?” 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?” 

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss. 

“Take me home, baby.” 

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car. 

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle. 

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration. 

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics. 

“Am I original?” 

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you, 

“Am I the only one?” 

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder. 

“Am I sexual?” 

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you. 

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?” 

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment. 

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console. 

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep. 

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” 

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away. 

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass. 

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into. 

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable. 

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.” 

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again. 

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further. 

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece  away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, I promise.” 

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step. 

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”  

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs. 

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.” 

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife. 

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.” 

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him. 

Silence. 

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note. 

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart. 

Love you 

-J 

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table. 

 “I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair. 

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh. 

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?” 

“Why don��t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns@blackfemalenerd @deppydelta

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

Vi and her Counterpart’s Violence

Okay so as soon as I saw this scene in s2e3, I was immediately reminded of this scene in s1e6

Vi sees someone she loves, someone she perceives as innocent and in dire need of protection, being so comfortable with violence. She doesn’t have a problem with violence, if anything she uses it as a tool, but she has a problem with certain other people doing the same. Why should they be so violent when she has it handled? When she is meant to be the violent one, shielding them from getting to that level?

Caitlyn and Jinx are never beating the mirror allegations

In both scenes, Vi calls out her counterpart’s name multiple times. But, of course, instead of calling Jinx by her chosen name, she calls her Powder. And instead of calling Caitlyn by her given name, she calls her Cait. ‘Jinx’ represents Vi’s greatest failure, the opposite of who Powder is meant to be, while ‘Caitlyn’ seems represent privilege and power, the two major things enabling Caitlyn to act in such an opposite way to how she’s ‘meant’ to. ‘Caitlyn’ is who everyone else knows. They know Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knows Cait. Vi knows her Cupcake. (Still a little confused on why we haven’t heard that at all this season?)

Violence is Vi’s. It’s hers because she refuses for it to be her counterpart’s. Of course, we’ve said this a million times: Vi is a protector first and foremost. A protector fails when their protectee is exposed to the weight on the protector’s shoulders. Vi was never meant to be innocent and she never seems to resent that, all she does is take it as a challenge that has no failing option.

In both seasons, Vi was pulled away from the situation and everything was interrupted. But, at least in s2, she got to talk to Caitlyn after. The problem is that there was such an obvious disconnect. It doesn’t matter if there was a kid, Caitlyn would have gotten the shot. It doesn’t matter if Caitlyn would have gotten the shot, there was a kid. (Although, I do think this whole kid thing is interesting after seeing how Vi feels about collateral damage when Jayce killed that Chembaron’s child. Maybe after seeing the council explosion, Caitlyn’s grief and that same Chembaron plan a terrorist attack, she’s changed her mind?)

Vi gets to view violence as a necessity. Vi gets to choose when violence is right or wrong, not who she’s supposed to be protecting. Vi gets to find comfort in violence, not who she’s supposed to be protecting.

Vi begging Caitlyn not to change isn’t just about everyone else in her life changing, it’s about forcing her own position to change as well when she finds so much comfort in it.

Anyway, I just think the parallels between these scenes are pretty cool and also getting to see Vi on the receiving end of violence from who she’s meant to be protecting is so interesting. I do wish the parallels were hammered home a little bit more because the scene in s1, you could really see it in Vi’s face and hear it in her voice how fearful she was of seeing Powder like that throughout the whole scene, while the fight scene felt a little short and the argument after left me wanting a bit more! Even tho I did appreciate the intensity of Caitlyn saying Jinx’s blood is in Vi’s veins and Vi saying Caitlyn is the one acting like her and all Caitlyn can respond with is violence, further proving Vi’s point and hurting her even more. I appreciate it all, but I hate to say that it feels like it’s missing something! I think what I wanted to hear from Vi was more than ‘It’s a kid!’ I wanted Vi to try to wake Caitlyn up, cry to her about her and Powder’s childhood’s, throw Caitlyn’s argument about ‘the cycle of violence’ back at her. But we didn’t get that.

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: As requested by my followers, here’s my bday special yakuza!Suna smut! (It sounds like a dish lmao, also happy bday to 25 year old me yay) The characters are like in their mid-twenties! P.S. I had way too many ideas for writing this, so I am gonna divide it into two parts :'D

Warnings: non-explicit sexual content, cursing, enemies to lovers trope, mentions of sex

You absolutely despise him.

He’s an infuriating, stupidly attractive, arrogant jerk.

Even his name leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

Rintarō Suna. 

Henchman of ruthless yakuza boss Shinsuke Kita, he is a highly intelligent strategist with rather unfortunate good looks that could make any girl swoon as soon as he looked their way. 

Too bad for all the females that Suna doesn’t do relationships, only fucking with no strings attached. 

He’s the only one in the group who brings company back to his room, claiming he has 'needs' and it’s a good stress relief.

You couldn’t care less, it’s not like you have a thing for Suna. 

He uses women and throws them away like paper, his body count is probably higher than the Spanish flu. 

You’re walking down the dimly-lit hallway, passing by an expensive painting towards his room.

When you get closer, you hear the sound of a moaning woman, along with the constant creaking of a bed. 

Immediately, your stomach twists in a weird way and you take deep breaths before hammering your fist against his door.

You hear a startled yelp of the woman and thankfully the creaking stops.

"What?!" Suna snaps loudly from inside his room.

"Suna, get your ass out of there. Kita called for a meeting 20 minutes ago. Send your visitor home and get a move on!" You yell back in frustration.

You wait for about seven minutes before the door opens, and a bright red-headed woman emerges from the room, hair all tousled up with cheeks colored almost as red as her hair.

She is unmistakably beautiful, you unfortunately have to admit. 

She looks a little bit guilty when she looks at you, not saying a word as she brushes past you in a hurry to leave. 

When you look back inside Suna’s room, the air smells heavy with sex and frustration from Suna's side, not exactly happy that you interrupted his hook-up session.

"You know, you’re such a manwhore." You say, with a voice full of anger and jealousy, after the woman has left.

"And proud of it sweetheart." Suna begins to pull up his discarded boxers and black jeans again, turning away from you, so his broad muscled back faces you.

Along with lots of scars of fights he has been in, his massive tattoo always amazes you.

It’s two giant vipers entangled with each other, mouths open so fangs are on display. At the bottom of the vipers, a red demon skull with a nasty snarl is staring right into the viewers face. Along on top of the skull are two horns, looking like they grew out of the skull. Two arrows go through the vipers, not hurting them but so the reptiles curl around them. It represents deceptive authority. 

"Enjoying the view?" Suna's teasing tone rips you out of your daydream.

"You wish. Kita has called us into a meeting and you weren’t picking up your phone when Aran has tried to call you multiple times." You cross your arms in front of your chest as you watch him getting dressed. 

Pulling his discarded maroon hoodie over his upper body, he faces you again with his usual bored expression. Aka what you call his resting-bitch-face.

"Let’s go fuckboy. Kita is waiting for us and with every damn second I spend waiting for you, he grows more agitated. Ever since his girl has left him, he’s been more moody, impatient and impulsive than usual." In the last part of your sentence, you drop the volume of your voice. 

Suna finally finishes putting on his sneakers and steps out of his room to lock the door and follow you to the conference room.

"I can’t understand how you can have sex with someone who screams so loud, I’d probably get my eardrums busted if my partner screamed so loud." You start the conversation.

"Think you sound better?" Suna grins at you with those beautiful dark emerald eyes of his, while still walking beside you to the conference room.

"I KNOW I sound better! At least I don’t scream like a cat in heat when I orgasm." You huff and fast the pace in your steps.

"I don’t care how loud they are, as long as I can fuck them and they leave, I could give less a shit." The brunette fastens his steps, so he is walking next to you again, making your shoulder brush with his side occasionally.

Silence from your side for a few seconds before Suna starts talking again.

"By the way. Why are you so uptight? Haven’t had a good fuck in a while?" He taunts you as he leans closer to your face.

You ignore his comment, finally arriving at the conference room.

When you open the door, you see Kita leaning his head against his propped up fist on his table and at the sound of the door opening, his brown eyes snap towards you. 

His eyes are very cold and it gives you shivers every time you look at him.

Suna shortly follows after you and without any acknowledgment to his boss, he sits in the seat next to Osamu. 

"Finally." Kita sighs and leans back in his chair. Finally all of the Inarizaki members have arrived, sitting at the long white-gray marble table, with Kita sitting at the head of the table. 

The last unoccupied chair was next to Riseki, who gives you a small smile as you sit down next to him.

Kita stands up and walks around a little bit, starting to talk.

"The reason why I called you all in here is because Inarizaki will soon expand its territory. With Shiratorizawa and Nohebi gone, all that is left is Karasuno and Itachiyama." Some of the members listen intently to him, others like Suna pulling out his phone, typing on it with a bored expression.

"So what are we going to do about them?" Aran asks from Riseki's left side. 

"I had a talk with Iizuna last night. We have come to a mutual agreement of joining forces together." Kita answers, stopping at the window to look outside.

"What? Ya serious?! Those snobby bastards only care for their own fuckin' profit!" Atsumu sneers madly.

Kita looks at Atsumu through his peripheral vision briefly before returning his gaze back outside.

"I know that some of you may have a problem with that, but Karasuno has gotten too much power in the last two years. Sawamura is stealing most of our customers away and by joining forces together with Itachiyama, we will be able to take over half of Japan, soon maybe the whole of Japan. Eliminate them one by one, pray you do not disappoint me.”

“What about their newest product ‘Spikedopamine’? I heard that’s the newest shit in town. Is that why our sales have dropped so much?” Akagi states, who sits on your right.

Ginjima and Atsumu who sit across from you, start laughing hysterically at the name that they chose for the newest drug they produced. The name-founder Kageyama used to play volleyball back in high school, where most of the crows have met and formed their group. 

“That’s the stupidest name I ever heard!” Atsumu manages to say while getting tears in his eyes.

Ginjima and Atsumu keep on laughing until Omimi shoots them a sharp glare, while Kita looks at them with an undefined expression.

Ginjima immediately stops, while Atsumu’s laugh turns into a nervous chuckle, stopping after a while as well.

It’s quiet for a while before Kita starts to speak again.

“I will divide you into teams and you will all work together with Itachiyama. Iizuna and I already made the teams.”

Kita walks back to his chair to sit down and reaches for the few folders that Aran has slid over to his boss.

“Team 1, the Surveillance Team. Osamu, you will go with Akagi, Kosaku, Omimi and Komori from Itachiyama. He’s a black-hat hacker, he can help you hack into their security system and download important files, steal information and hack into their bank accounts.” 

The names of the men that were called begin to stand up, since Osamu sits on Kita’s left side at the head of the table, he grabs the folder that Kita has provided him.

“And Team 2, which will be the Assault Team, will consist of Atsumu, (Y/N), Suna and Sakusa from Itachiyama. He's a weapons specialist, expert interrogator and master strategist.” Kita slides the folder to you, since Suna is still on his phone, showing it to Atsumu, who grins mischievously at the screen. 

“Aran, Riseki and Ginjima, you stay here at headquarters, in case someone gets injured, you can take over. That will be all.” Kita, Aran, Riseki and Ginjima begin to get up to return to their rooms while you and your assigned team remain seated.

Well this is fucking great. 

You’re stuck with a psycho, a manwhore and an arrogant jackass for God knows how long, until you all bring the downfall for Karasuno.

[beauttifullife]

The Power Play Between These Two 🔥🔥🔥

“Why are you here, Agatha?” Rio’s voice dropped to a low, almost teasing murmur, her head tilted with that smirk that never quite left her face. “Do you… need something ?”

Agatha hated how easily Rio could slip into this game, how quickly she could turn the mood with a single look—with a subtle shift in her tone.

The effect was immediate, visceral, and Agatha loathed how it put her on edge—yet she was acutely aware of the thrill that came with it, the way it made her senses sharpen, made her heart beat just a little faster.

And now?

Now, she was also now painfully aware of the fall that would come after.

She took a steadying breath, determined not to let it show, but Rio’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes dark and knowing. There was something almost maddening in her confidence, as though she knew exactly the effect she was having and enjoyed every second of it.

Agatha felt her cheeks warm, and she forced herself to hold Rio’s gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.

The silence between them was charged as Rio’s fingers drummed lazily against the arm of the chair, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s face.

Agatha swallowed, steadying herself.

“You know why I’m here,” she said, attempting a deflection she knew Rio wouldn't accept but grasping for it anyway.

Rio’s smirk only deepened, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Do I?” Rio’s tone was dripping with feigned innocence, her gaze steady, unyielding.

Agatha’s heart hammered in her chest as she looked at her.

Here it was—the precipice.

She had two choices: she could say why she was really here, lay herself bare, and finally get what she wanted, or she could lie, turn around, and walk away, resigned to living in this endless state of frustrated longing.

But Rio seemed to sense her hesitation, the way her resolve wavered. Her feet slid down from the table, her body leaning forward, closer, every inch of her focused on Agatha.

“Say it,” Rio murmured, her voice softer, lower, coaxing Agatha to cross that final line.

Agatha’s breath hitched, her gaze locked on Rio’s, the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the choice hanging between them.

And finally, she let herself give in, her voice barely a whisper.

“I came here because… I need you.”

Rio licked her lips at that.

“Need me how?” Rio pressed, her voice smooth, her gaze unrelenting.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, knowing the push was coming but feeling the impact of it all the same.

Rio couldn’t just let things be—couldn’t let her stay in the safety of ambiguity.

She always had to push, to strip Agatha raw.

Agatha held her gaze, trying to steady herself, but her mind betrayed her, filling with everything she craved: she needed to kiss Rio, to feel her hands on her skin, her fingers tracing lines over her body. She needed Rio’s mouth, her fingers—everything she had to give, every touch, every whisper. She wanted to be undone by her all over again, in every way that mattered.

But how could she say that?

Maybe she could— at least some of it.

The words were there, tangled somewhere in her chest, yet saying them felt impossible.

She hated how Rio did this to her—how easily she could chip away at her confidence, leaving her vulnerable.

Frustration and nerves simmered inside her, and Agatha wished she could somehow throw Rio off balance for once, to push back, to make her rise to the challenge.

And then an idea sparked—a bold, terrifying idea.

It was something she’d thought about in vivid, private detail over the past few days.

Words she never intended to say it out loud, but it would certainly even the playing field, let her take control, make Rio respond to her .

Her pulse quickened as she leaned forward, her voice coming out a touch softer than she intended, betraying her nerves.

“I didn’t get to touch you,” she murmured, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks even as she held Rio’s gaze.

For a moment, Rio’s face was unreadable and then—her steady composure slipped just slightly as Agatha’s words sank in.

The tension between them felt like a tightrope, and for once, Agatha was the one holding the balance.

Rio leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking over Agatha, her lips curving into a slow, uncharacteristically uncertain smile.

Agatha could see her processing, that ever-present confidence wavering just enough to give her a flash of something new—a vulnerability, an edge of surprise.

“You want to touch me?” Rio replied, her voice quieter, her tone still challenging but softened by a hint of intrigue.

Agatha took a slow, steadying breath as she leaned forward, inching closer, savoring the thrill of finally turning the tables.

“You told me you imagined what my fingers would feel like inside you,” she said, her voice stronger, bolder now.

Her gaze traced over Rio’s face, catching the slight widening of her eyes, the flare of her nostrils as she exhaled a slow, measured breath.

For a moment, Agatha saw Rio’s composure waver, and the satisfaction that surged through her was exhilarating.

Oh.

Now she understood why Rio played this game—why she pushed, why she teased her.

There was power in holding someone’s desire, of watching them unravel beneath it.

Emboldened, Agatha pushed further, her gaze unwavering as she met Rio’s eyes.

“I’ve had days to think about what you said,” she continued, letting her voice dip lower. “And now…I want to know what it feels like—to be inside you.”

Rio’s eyes darkened as her words landed.

Agatha could feel the tension winding between them, taut and electric, and this time, she was the one daring Rio to close the distance.

Rio opened her mouth, and Agatha saw it instantly—the moment she was trying to wrestle back control. The smirk began to curl at the corner of her lips, her eyes shifting from surprise to that familiar, daring gleam.

Agatha knew exactly what she was about to say.

Ask.

So, she beat her to it.

“Can I touch you?” Agatha murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “Will you let me do that?”

Rio’s mouth hung open mid-sentence, her expression frozen in a rare flash of surprise.

For a heartbeat, she was speechless, and Agatha savored every second, watching Rio struggle to respond.

It was a triumph—Agatha was still playing her game, following Rio’s rules, but turning it around, using her own rules against her.

And it was addicting .