#but no. this isn’t about him. even though he is the final straw that led to my decision to resign

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[greatdenimbeast]

Diamond castle au- Mephiles as Lydia! The muse of Music, Tragedy and Eloquence

He’s a god, born on Olympus, chosen to be Apollos first muse, due to his prolific musical talents and understanding of tragic stories. Mephiles graciously accepted his position as well as his twin flutes

To him, to be a muse is to be the example, the authority, to have the final say over what people can and can’t do with their art, down to the style and expression.

Mortals were simple creatures, with fickle emotions that easily led them astray. They needed guidance, direction, the ability to create was gifted onto them and they needed to use that gift properly. (More accurately how he deemed it being used properly)

He was content in his care for the diamond castle and the way he ran things… but then Apollo chose another muse. A demigod. A descendant of an underworld god, gifted with full godhood in order to carry out his duties.

Mephiles wasn’t… fond of this decision, working with a mortal isn’t something he had ever foreseen and he didn’t think that this mortal would be capable of taking on these responsibilities. But he chose not to argue with the authority of lord Apollo and welcome the godling into his ranks as a fellow muse. He could be taught the proper ways after-all and, even when he was a mortal, the blood of a god still ran through his viens, this was about a century before Apollo introduces them to another chosen muse.

This one a pure mortal, not even a lick of godly blood in him and yet he was chosen.

Mephiles was completely baffled and infuriated by this decision but held his tongue, something that was hard to do when this… former-mortal was the most ungrateful one he’d ever seen, having as much snark as he had audacity as he clearly did not wish for this decision either

Everything Mephiles told him to do, he did the exact opposite! And if that wasn’t enough! He slacked in his duties! The mortals engaging in his art just did whatever they wanted and interpreted his aspects however they wanted and he just let them! In fact he actively encouraged it! Going down to the mortal realm, in mortal disguise to interact with them. And then, for some ungodly reason, the second muse (who had previously been butting heads with this new muse as well) followed his example!!! It was infuriating, especially when the two started to creating music, and doing whatever the heck they wanted with it! Starting to insist that he could lighten up cuz he didn’t actually have the authority on what people created

The final straw was when the two of them created music that in turn created a little godling (literally, they made a song an poof! Baby!) and the god Apollo proposed that the child train to be a muse

Mephilis wouldn’t stand for this anymore, they didn’t deserve to hold their positions so if they didn’t do things his then he’d take care of all the arts himself! But he knew he couldn’t exactly do anything, his fellow muses, though tainted by their former mortality, were just as powerful as he was. So he ventured down to Tartarus for something give an edge, he found the dark power he was looking for, as well as the dragon, iblis.

So he conspired to take over while tensions rose with the other two muses, what he needed was the instruments to have full control but for people to believe his authority he had to let those two ruin their own image to make him look better by comparison and ruining their harmony to make them more susceptible to his powers

But then Silver found out, told the other muses about him wanting to take over and they hid the castle and their instruments. The two muses tried to confront him and stop him but he quickly put a stop to that, they won’t be doing anything without his say so anytime soon… but the little apprentice got away, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Meph had a hunch that he knew the whereabouts but there was no sign of

His powers still only extended over his domain, so he still needed those instruments… but no matter, he was in charge and he was immortal, he had millennia to wait and there were only so many places that child could hide

[nanawritesit]

Your Highness - Sanji x Reader: Part Three (Final Part)

PART ONE PART TWO

plot: you’re a runaway princess bride who finds her way into the straw hat crew. you expected one hell of an adventure, but you never expected to fall for the head chef. things get even more complicated when your father, the king, and your ex-fiancé send their troops after the going merry. now you must choose between surrendering to save your crew and being with the only man you’ve ever truly loved. but of course, the straw hat crew isn’t going to let you go without a fight. especially sanji.

—————

A singular tear rolled down your cheek and splashed onto the skirt of your new wedding gown. Although it was an exact replica of the one you wore a few months ago, it felt much more constricting this time. The corset was cinched so tight that you could hardly breath unless you stood up perfectly straight. Part of you hoped that if you slouched, one of the wires might pierce through the fabric and stab you in the stomach, causing you to bleed to death. It seemed an easier fate than the one that awaited you.

Your ladies’ maids were all scurrying about, putting the final touches on your wedding look. You tried to keep a brave face for them, but your mask was beginning to crack. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Sanji had fallen to his knees when you left him, and that helpless look on Luffy’s face. Leaving them was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but at least it was better than watching them get killed.

How wonderful it would have been to spend the rest of your life on the straw hat crew, fighting alongside your dearest friends. You could’ve spent an eternity playing their princess. But all the wishing and hoping and loving you did couldn’t keep you from being yanked back into the role you were born into. And worst of all, it cost you the only man you’d ever truly loved.

Now you were about to walk down the aisle, and it absolutely killed you that Sanji wouldn’t be waiting for you at the altar.

“Your highness?” one of your maids interrupted your thoughts. “May I place your tiara on your head?”

You flinched at the use of your title. It would never feel the same being called “your highness” ever again.

“Yes, go right ahead.” you mumbled, shifting to cross your legs. Except you couldn’t, because they were chained to the chair beneath you.

You groaned, stomping your heel on the ground. “Father is relentless, isn’t he?”

Once your maids were done getting you ready, they all exited the room and sent in your father, just as they were instructed to do. You weren’t to be left alone for even a second, even though you were literally chained to your chair.

“Ah, there’s my princess.” your father beamed as he entered the room. “You make a beautiful bride.”

You gave him a strained fake smile. “Wonderful. My only job in life is complete.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. You’ll also have to give birth to at least ten children.” he chuckled cruelly, leaning down to unlock the chains around your ankles.

You bit your tongue angrily. You wanted to kick the heel of your shoe straight through his eye. But you’d probably be thrown in the dungeon if you did, and no one would be on your side during your trial. You hated having the king as your father.

He helped you up out of your chair, then grabbed your shoulders and looked at you intensely. “I hope you understand who you belong to now. If you try to run away again…”

“You don’t have to worry about that, father.” you explained apathetically. “I have nothing else to live for now.”

“Good.” he grinned, linking his arm with yours. “Let’s go give you away.”

Your father led you down the long hallway to the doors of the chapel. As they opened for you, you could feel your soul splitting in half inside of you. Your guests all looked so happy, while you were fighting back sobs and focusing solely on placing one foot in front of the other.

As you reached the end of the aisle and your father lifted your veil off your face, you felt as if you might collapse onto the floor. But you just held your head up high, no sign of sorrow on your features. You weren’t going to let anyone see you be weak.

The priest began the service. You glanced over at your fiancé, who in contrast looked absolutely thrilled to be there next to you. You could tell he couldn’t wait to push you around and force you to be a perfect wife for him.

The priest was instructed to make the service as short as possible, in order to minimize the amount of time you could possibly run away. “Do you, Princess Y/N, take the Prince to be your lawfully wedded husband, as long as you both shall live?”

You froze. Your brain was telling you to say “I do,” but your heart was fighting against it. It felt like the air was sucked straight out of your lungs, preventing you from speaking.

“Say it.” your fiancé hissed through gritted teeth.

You gulped. “I…”

“Stop!” a voice called out, echoing against the chapel walls. Everyone immediately gasped and whipped their heads around, including you. Your heart stopped as you saw who the voice had come from. It was Sanji, power-walking up the aisle with the rest of the straw hat crew trailing in behind him.

“Sanji!” you cheered, dropping your bouquet and running to embrace him. You practically leaped into his arms, to which he caught you and twirled you around, a wide smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I was going to lose my princess without a fight, did you?” he smirked, taking your veil off and throwing it across the room.

“Guards! Seize them!” your father ordered, standing up in his pew. In an instant, the guards were encroaching upon your crew. They all readied their weapons, attacking them upon confrontation.

“Y/N!” Zoro called out. You looked over to him, and he tossed you one of his swords. “Take this, and escape through the back. The ship is waiting in the port. We’ll be there as soon as we take care of these guys.”

You nodded, turning around to exit the chapel through the acolyte’s wing. As you exited the chapel, it was a straight shot through one long hallway out of the castle. You began sprinting down the hallway as fast as you could, picturing your freedom at the end of it.

Halfway down however, a presence emerged from the door behind you. You stopped in your tracks as you glanced behind you, gasping as you saw your father.

“I must say, your friends are better fighters than I thought.” he sneered, walking towards you with cold, calculated steps.

“Just let me go father.” you demanded, backing away from him. “I’m never going to be the person you want me to be.”

“Let you go?” he scoffed. “You belong to me. You’re either going to do as I say, or kneel in pieces.” He suddenly flipped open his cloak and revealed a sword on his hip, unsheathing it from its holder and brandishing it at you.

Without thinking, you held your sword out straight in front of you and assumed a fighting stance. In an instant, you and your father were swept up in a duel, clunking your swords against one another’s’ and spinning around the room.

“I must say, you’re a phenomenal swordsman.” your father grunted. “It is in your genetics after all.”

You scoffed. “It has nothing to do with you. I learned from Zoro.”

He furrowed his brow. “Who’s Zoro?”

“The world’s greatest swordsman.” you practically spat. In the midst of your father’s confusion, you spun around, kicking against the wall to jump up on a nearby table, landing with perfect balance. Using your high ground to your advantage, you kicked your father in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground flat on his back and drop his sword. You held the blade of your sword against his throat threateningly.

“Please, don’t… you win.” the King pleaded, holding up his hands in surrender.

“How do I know you won’t come after me again?” you demanded, pressing the blade even further to his flesh.

“You have my honor as a king.” he whimpered, trembling slightly.

“Give me your ring.” you ordered. “So that wherever I go, no one will ever bring me back here.”

He slid his ring off his finger and handed it to you. You placed it on your own finger and backed away from him slowly.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he sat up. “I suppose you’re not a princess after all.”

“I am a princess, father.” you told him with a satisfied smile. “I’m just not yours.”

And with that, you took off through the back doors of the palace, seeing the crew leaving through the front at the same time.

“Guys! Wait up!” you called out, running up to them.

They all turned around in surprise.

“Y/N? We thought you’d be back at the ship by now.” Nami questioned, an amused smile on her face.

“I had to tie up some loose ends.” you smirked, holding your hand up to showcase your fathers’ ring. Everyone’s’ eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Is that…” Sanji began, holding your hand to inspect it.

“My father’s ring.” you finished with a proud grin. “I fought him for it, and I won.”

“Yes! I knew you could do it!” Zoro beamed, patting you on the shoulder supportively. You swore it was the happiest you’d ever seen him.

You nodded excitedly. “This whole time I was worried I wasn’t going to be any good in a fight. But after taking on a king, I’m pretty confident in my skills.

“Well, now that there’s nothing standing in your way, are you reading to be our princess again?” Luffy asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course I am, captain!” you squealed, causing everyone to enclose you in a huge group hug.

“Three cheers for the princess of the Going Merry!” Ussop cheered.

—————

Once the ship was back on the sea, you had gone into Sanji’s room with him for a moment alone.

“I can’t even begin to describe how thrilled I am to have you back.” he sighed, enveloping you in a tight embrace as soon as the door shut behind you.

“You don’t know how good it feels to be back.” you replied, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I was so relieved when you burst through those doors.”

Sanji smiled, leaning back to look you in the eye. “Well, it only took us about fifteen minutes to decide that we were going after you. Speaking of which, did we prove to you that we can handle ourselves in a fight?”

“Yes, you did indeed.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I hope I did the same?”

He nodded admiringly. “You didn’t even really need us to save you. You won your own freedom.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” you told him. His face broke out in a huge grin as he leaned down to kiss you. You met him halfway, and as soon as your lips connected, it felt like all was right in your world again.

“Please don’t ever leave me again.” Sanji requested in a voice barely above a whisper, his forehead still pressed against yours. He was squinting his eyes, brows furrowed in desperation.

“I promise I won’t. And this time, I mean it.” you replied. He then kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands moving up from your waist to cup your face. You brought one hand up into his golden locks for stability, then brushed your tongue against his lips. He allowed it to pass by slipping his own tongue along your lips, the two of you now fully immersed in each other.

“I love you, Y/N.” he told you breathlessly between kisses. “Every single part of you.”

“I love you too Sanji.” you told him, practically gasping for air. “More than anything else in this world.”

He began kissing down your neck. “You look beautiful in a wedding dress, you know that?”

You giggled, tightening your grip on his hair as he nipped lightly at your skin. “You always think I look beautiful.”

“Because it’s always true.” he winked, going back up to kiss your lips. He deepened it slightly, then bit your lip at the end, releasing it from between his teeth before looking you in the eye once more. “Still, it’d be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress.”

You chuckled. “What are you saying, Sanji?”

He smirked, then grabbed your hands tenderly in his. He started lowering himself to the ground, kneeling before you on one knee. Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Y/N… From the day I first met you, I have been absolutely enamored with you.” he began, happy tears pooling in his pale blue eyes. “You continue to surprise me every single day with your strength, kindness, and never ending talents. You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met, and I would be honored if…” He then pulled a box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring. “If we could spend the rest of our lives together?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment, before nodding profusely. For a moment you couldn’t find any words. He just looked at you expectantly, a playful grin on his face. He gestured his hand impatiently, causing you to giggle.

“Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you Sanji!” you finally blurted out, tackling him onto the ground.

He laughed as you did so, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing the top of your head. “Give me your hand, love.”

You did as he asked, and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You admired it, wincing at how beautiful it was.

“How did you even afford a ring?” you asked him, propping an elbow up to lean your head against.

“I got help from a friend.” he grinned, reaching into his pocket once again. He pulled out a letter and handed it to you. You furrowed your brow in confusion, opening it up to read it.

“To my little poetry princess,

I would like to begin by stating just how unbelievably proud of you I am. I always knew you would do great things, ever since you were a child. You had a spark in you that I knew would get you through any challenges you could ever face, and that one day you would have the great life of adventure you so desired.

While I will be sad to see you go, it brings me great comfort to know that you’ll be in the hands of someone like Sanji. I’ve only met him once, and that was to set up your rescue. But the way he spoke of you! I have never in all my years heard a man talk so fondly of a lady. He obviously cares for you tremendously. I know he’ll make a wonderful husband. This ring has been in my family for generations, and I would like you to have it, as you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter.”

You should be incredibly proud of yourself, my dear. Not many princesses have the courage to stand up for themselves. To chase after what they truly want in this world. To say they’re not happy with the part they’ve been assigned. You are truly special, princess, and it’s been my great honor raising you these past twenty years. Should you ever find yourself in Dacovia again, I should like to receive a visit from you and your husband. Oh, and do write often!

Love,

Your Governess”

You sniffled and wiped away the stray tear that hung at the corner of your eye. “So she was the one who got you guys into the castle?”

Sanji nodded with a smirk. “I told you, your loved ones will always want the best for you.”

You jumped on him once again, catching him off guard but making him chuckle nonetheless. You began attacking his face in kisses, not being able to hold back your affection.

As you ran out of energy, you sighed and laid back down on the floor next to him, holding his hand gingerly. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

He smiled that perfect smile of his, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to make you so happy, your highness.”

“I already am.” you told him. “As long as you’re here next to me.”

—————

TAGS:

@genshingeeksworld @gg-trini @sinmp @mitsureigen @fanficwriter5 @sophiaj650 @number-0-iz @tr4shygrrl @ren-ni @secretlife028 @sapphireonline @seodami

[cloudyyoimiya]

hello cloudd. may i req any bsd character (i’d love to see doa though ahah i love them) get jealous over their s/o hanging out more with another bsd character, but they ‘can’t’ do anything because it’s a co-worker of theirs? i hope it makes sense.. totally isn’t an ask for yandere hcs

omg i’m so happy to see you in my inbox krei! anyways yes that made sense don’t worry! also i hope you dont mind that i actually did the main three of the doa! they all make me giggle and kick my feet

Their Darling Hangs Out With Their Coworker; Sigma, Nikolai Gogol, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Format: Headcanons

Possible warnings: Yandere/dark content, unhealthy relationships, jealousy, manipulation.

Sigma

Simply put, Sigma gets jealous very easily. You’re the meaning to his life, the candle that led him out of the dark. So when you started your friendship with Nikolai, Sigma was distressed.

He had no clue what to do with himself. Sigma cares about your happiness, so he wouldn’t try to do anything too rash, but he’d still want to distance you from him.

Sigma knows that Nikolai is a very unstable individual, so he was absolutely terrified of leaving you alone with him. If you and Nikolai happened to be in the casino, Sigma would constantly be watching you via security cameras. He wanted to make sure that the jester didn’t do anything… unsavory towards you.

It irritated Sigma that he couldn’t just get rid of Nikolai.

Nikolai was his coworker after all.

If he even laid a hand on him, Fyodor would know and he’d be severely punished.

It made Sigma want to rip his hair out.

It made him feel sick.

He absolutely hated it.

If he ever caught you getting put in danger, Sigma would immediately take you back from Nikolai and lock you up for a few weeks. He’d then lecture you about how terrible Nikolai is and how he’d hurt you in a snap.

Sigma might also feed you some lies about Nikolai. He knows everything about you; your likes and dislikes. He’d use that to his advantage and tell you how Nikolai did all of the things you don’t like with a serious expression.

Of course you believed him because he’d never lie to you, right?

He’d then try to guilt you into staying away from Nikolai for good measure. You wouldn’t want to upset your boyfriend and future spouse, would you? You don’t want to leave him, right?

In all honesty, he would be the best out of the three.

Nikolai Gogol

Let’s say for Nikolai you befriended Fyodor. The two of you would sometimes sit in his office and just talk, or sometimes he’d bring you out for some tea. Fyodor’s intent wasn’t anything romantic, he just thought that your views of the world were so.. interesting.

Being the good friend you are, you always joined him whenever he asked you to hang out.

Nikolai was absolutely stuck on what to do. He didn’t approve of your friendship with Fyodor one bit, but he was happy to see you getting along with someone he admired.

His conflicting feelings made him want to kill the rat. He absolutely hated feeling chained down his emotions like this.

It left such a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d do anything to make it stop.

One time he actually did come close to killing Fyodor.

You were out at a bookstore and Fyodor had joined you. Nikolai would have stayed in the shadows, silently watching the two of you. Eventually Fyodor had put his hand on your back, and apparently that was the final straw for the jester.

It took everything in him to not take you away right then and there.

Eventually when you and Fyodor parted ways, Nikolai magically appeared beside you with an unreadable expression. You had asked him what was wrong but he only grabbed your wrist with an iron grip.

He brought you back to your shared apartment and locked you in your room until Nikolai sorted out his emotions.

Nikolai is a sadistic yandere, yes, but he wouldn’t be sadistic towards you without any reason; or being caught up in his emotions for that matter.

What it all comes down to is that he still loves his darling despite how they made him feel some wretched emotion besides love.

He’d eventually calm down and trap you in your apartment until you can ‘behave yourself.’

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

For Fyodor let’s say that you befriended Sigma. You originally approached him since he seemed lonely and needed some time off from work, but over time your friendship with him grew. Fyodor only watched as this happened on the side lines.

Surely you weren’t stupid enough to talk to another man while you had him, right?

Well, he was wrong; though he slightly expected this from you. You always cared about other people, even if they didn’t care about you.

Normally if something like this was to happen with anyone else, he’d kill off your friend immediately. But since Sigma is one of his coworkers and is vital to his plan, he’s unable to take care of him.

That fact slightly infuriates him, but he’d never let it show. He’d let it boil under the surface until he eventually confronts you.

Fyodor reached his breaking point when Sigma was fast asleep in his office and you put your jacket over his back so he wouldn’t get cold.

You’re only supposed to be doing those type of things with Fyodor.

It made him almost want to kill you along with Sigma.

Oh so gradually Fyodor would start feeding lies to Sigma about how you’re only using him, and in return he’d tell you lies about Sigma, saying that he’s an awful person that only wishes to see you fail.

Fyodor’s lies made the two of you extremely angry at each other, and eventually the two of you would stop talking.

Fyodor would let you cry to him with open arms. He’d be there to comfort you and tell you that everything is all right.

He’d be there to tell you that other people only wish to hurt you.

Locking you away wouldn’t be his solution for this issue, but if something similar happens again in the future, he may consider it. He won’t be so nice next time.

Fyodor would be the worst to have out of the three in terms of mentality. Let’s just hope that you don’t break easily.

this was my first yandere ask on this acc! i hope you liked it <3

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 48

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

No.

No. No. No. No. Why?

“You look surprised.” Will tossed the cheap mask to the side and it skidded to a scraping halt on the small, square tiles.

This has to be a joke. “Will?” I shook my head. “What are you doing? What is this?”

“All valid questions.” He gave a nod and pulled the hood down off his head as he paced in my direction.

I began to walk backwards alongside the pool. “This isn't a joke? This is.. this is for real?” My mind still couldn't comprehend that part.

“Well it's not a nightmare, if that's what you mean,” Will went on. “It is for real.” He calmly folded his hands as he walked.

“What did you bring me down here for?” I continue to step backwards.

“I didn't initially intend to include you in all of this,” he explained. “But when I realized Joel was screwing one of his students, it was just the perfect addition to make this whole plan fall into place. You are going to be the final girl of this whole.. ordeal.”

“I don't understand.”

“I don't mean final girl as in survivor. I mean in it in a way that you will be the final girl killed in the string of Woodbridge murders. And your text breaking off your unorthodox relationship with your professor was the final straw that set him off - and led you to be his final victim. Before killing himself, of course.”

I shook my head, not following anything Will had just said. “What?”

He reached into the pocket of his dockers and removed my phone. “Just watch.” Will read aloud as he typed. “Dr. Miller.. I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore. It’s been fun.. no wait..” he deleted the word fun, “It's been hot sneaking around with you this semester but..” Will’s eyes met mine and he smiled, “It's over.” He tapped his finger once more, “Send.”

The phone slipped back into his pocket.

“You killed those girls,” I concluded.

“Guilty as charged.” Will raised his right hand.

“Why?” I shook my head, attempting to scan the area for somewhere to go. “And why are you trying to frame Joel?”

“Why?” He eyed the ceiling as if he was searching for the answer but I knew it was on the tip of his tongue. “Well, there’s a lot you don't know about Joel.”

“Unless he also kills innocent women I don't think you're in any position to throw stones.” We continued our walk. Will stalked me as I continued on backwards.

“Women.. no.” He shook his head, “But Joel Miller is a killer.” Will flashed a grin, “I didn't even mean for that to rhyme.” He chuckled as if we were back at the bar having drinks.

I wanted to pinch myself. How could this man chameleonize himself so incredibly? It appeared as if he was head over heels for Carol; a perfect gentleman. There wasn't a hint of malice in his eyes. Not once. The man before me was far different than the Will Brennan I had met.

It left me with a thought I quickly shoved out of my brain: Could Joel be deceiving me, too? Will said he was a killer.

He's attempting to manipulate you, I told myself.

“He didn't tell you, did he?” Will branded the knife he’d placed up to my throat and placed the tip of the blade against his fingertip. He then twirled the knife a few times, watching it spin against his finger before glancing back up at me.

“Tell me what?”

“That he killed a dear friend of mine.”

“The UPS guy?” I squinted my eyes. “The one who assaulted Carol?”

Will let out a chuckle. “No. No, that one was deemed some kind of ‘accident’.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “No, I'm talking about another person Joel killed. You see, Dr. Miller isn’t some knight on a white horse, even though I can tell that’s how you look at him. No, he’s quite the opposite actually.”

“And for that reason you feel it’s necessary to kill women?” I squinted my eyes at him, feeling some kind of anger erupt through all the fear.

“It’s all part of a bigger plan.”

“So, they’re collateral damage then? Is that it?” I rounded the corner of the pool and glanced down at the water. It was so still and serene, swaying gently within itself. And then I glanced back up at Will.

“Something like that,” he said, not caring in the least.

“And what about Carol?” Another tragic piece to this puzzle.

“Oh, Carol and I will be just fine. I mean, after the tragic revelation that her brother is a serial killer who offed himself, and you, tonight, we probably won’t be getting married tomorrow. But that’s fine. I’ll be right there to help her through her grief, and maybe a year from now, or whenever she’s ready, we’ll get married and live happily ever after.”

I shook my head. “You’re sick.” Tears stung the bottoms of my eyes. This time it was for Carol. “She’ll know, ya know. She’s an intelligent woman.” I wiped a tear away.

“Well, if she hasn’t figured it out by now..” Will shrugged and smiled, “I didn’t plan on sticking it out with Carol, but she really did grow on me. I love her.”

“You’re not capable of loving anything.” I shook my head and then said again, “She’ll figure it out. Even if it takes a year, she’ll figure it out. Joel wouldn’t kill those women.”

He grinned, “And have you figured out your lover’s secrets? I’m willing to bet he’s never told you about Ace Deerfield.”

“Oh, I know all about Ace Deerfield. Another piece of shit ‘lady killer’.”

“Let’s be careful with our word choice,” Will said, “I don’t want to get knife happy prematurely.” He ran a finger down the length of the blade. “I’m sure Joel left out one major detail about Ace Deerfield, and you wouldn’t have figured it out without me telling you. Joel killed Ace.”

I swallowed hard and stepped backwards up onto a small, square diving board and the off the other side.

Will smiled and trailed me. “Of course he left out that part. Who would willingly be with a man who admitted to killing somebody in cold blood?”

“Ace Deerfield was a serial killer.”

“Who the justice system set free,” Will said, “So, if there wasn’t enough evidence, was he really a serial killer? I guess we’ll never know. He doesn’t have a voice anymore. Because Joel Miller killed him.”

“Lou Brackett killed Ace Deerfield.”

He cackled a laugh that echoed off the walls of the big, empty space. “Lou Brackett?” Will laughed again, “Lou fucking Brackett. All one-hundred and fifteen pounds of him? You could’ve broken Lou Brackett in half. Hell, little Frankie Miller could’ve broken him in two. Lou Brackett could barely walk in his final years, nevermind carry out a murder.”

“Well, the world’s a better place without Ace Deerfield in it, regardless of who killed him.”

�� I thought we talked about watching your mouth.”

“No. You talked about watching my mouth.” Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t have a plan after getting feisty with Will, and so I turned and started to run in the opposite direction.

It was all of two or three seconds before Will caught up with me and pulled me against him again, putting the knife back against my neck. That’s a feeling I would never forget. It was just as terrifying the second time.

“Why?” I shouted again, “Why do you give a shit about Ace Deerfield?”

“He was my best friend,” Will hissed, “Since grade school. “We were in the military together, right after high school. He saved my life. And ever since, I’ve owed him mine.”

“He was a bad man, Will.”

“Joel is a bad man.”

“Why did you kill those women?” I went to shake my head but the knife was digging into my skin. I felt a drip of blood this time slide down the center of my throat.

Will huffed a deep breath and the blade loosened just a bit on my neck. Rather than respond, he walked me toward a dark corner of the room, explaining the fictional story, again, that he intended to carry out. “Joel had this darkness in him. He took a job at Woodbridge and began killing off women on campus. And then he meets you, seduces you, and makes you his final victim when you try to leave him. You discovered his crimes. Maybe you threatened to go to the police, and as a last ditch effort, he lures you down to the hotel spa, knowing you can’t swim and shoves you into the pool before taking a handful of pills, killing himself.” Will chuckled, “A real life twisted version of Romeo and Juliet. Perfect ending.”

I let it sink in for a moment. Joel was in danger. Carol was in danger. If I died right then, what would happen to them? And why was Will walking me away from the pool?

He extended his arm over my shoulder again toward a dark nook in the corner of the room beyond a jacuzzi. My eyes widened and I struggled to get away now, feeling tears begin to fall down my face again.

Will held me tighter, “Shh.. shh.. He’s just sleeping.” He laughed now, as we both looked upon Dr. Miller laying unconscious in the dark corner of the room. “I’ll make sure Romeo’s awake for the first act.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

[amberskywrites]

Brewing Storms

Fic Masterpost | Ao3 Link

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Kinda fluff?

Pairing: (Pre)Sebastian/Elliott, Sebastian & Elliott

Prompt: Requested by @cooltuna69 :

My idea is that Sebastian goes to beach on a rainy day but slips and falls in the ocean, and Willy isn't home and his house is way too far away so he has no choice but to ask Elliott for help.

Warnings: Very mild injury, storms, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Summary: Sebastian is on the beach during a rainy day, as he often does, but this storm turns out to be worse than normal. He's forced to take refuge in Elliott's cabin, but really, is that such a bad thing?

Today had already been a pretty shitty day, even though it was raining.

His mom had barged into his room early in the morning no less than seven times, Demetrius had made yet another comment about Sebastian potentially moving out, and Maru had gotten a raise from Harvey which just led to being compared to her even more by both his mom and Demetrius.

This really felt like the last straw, and Sebastian isn’t even entirely sure how it happened.

One moment, he was standing on the docks, smoking a new pack of cigarettes, his umbrella clenched in his other hand doing little to shield him from the onslaught of rain, providing just enough cover to keep his cigarette and face dry. The next moment, he was in the water, being dragged under and was narrowly slammed into the pillars of wood supporting the old docks.

Sebastian grappled until he felt something and yanked himself up, sputtering and coughing when he was able to push his head over the water’s surface, and he just barely managed to secure his hold before another wave tried to push him away again.

He shuddered against the wood he was clinging to, looking around frantically. He was under the docks, kinda. From the looks of it, he had been swept from the pier closest to the Lonely Stone to the pier closer to Willy’s shop.

Bracing himself, Sebastian grit his teeth and pushed himself further above the water’s surface, and just as his head brushed the wood above, he propelled himself back enough to grab at the edge of the dock with both hands.

One slipped and he cursed, feeling the burn as salt water hit the broken skin, but he reached for the wood again, getting a better grip before another wave could push him back under the water or docks again. He pulled himself out and up, using the surging water to at least save some of his energy.

By the time he flopped onto the wet wood, he was panting heavily and his hoodie was seemingly trying to glue him to the docks. He groaned into the paneling below, forcing himself onto hands and knees, and then shakily onto his feet. The wind and rain seemed to get worse—at least it felt worse, maybe because his umbrella had been lost to who knows where—and he hugged himself despite how his clothes were already growing colder and clinging to his skin.

He treaded as quickly as he could to Willy’s shop, slumping against the wall under the overhang. Knocking as hard as he could on the door, he shuddered as the overhang only slightly saved him from the biting wind.

Nothing. Sebastian couldn’t hear much over the wind and crashing waves anyway, but he’s pretty sure he couldn’t hear anyone inside.

Frowning, he knocked again, hopefully louder.

It wasn’t until the third knock did he finally notice the note in the window and groaned.

Closed until Saturday - On fishing trip.

“Just great,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at the little paper before huffing and looking out at the restless water.

Home was too far—at least in this weather without better rain gear. And it was definitely getting worse—the water was sloshing through the wood of the docks occasionally, and Sebastian figured it was only a matter of time before it became a constant submersion. With how soaked he was, he also wasn’t gonna be getting anywhere quickly, that was for sure. Already his clothes were growing heavy, almost like they were trying just as hard as the wind to drag him back into the water.

He’d still have to trek farther than he probably could at the moment to get to the Saloon—and Gus might not even be open at the moment. He usually closed earlier when the weather was this bad.

He thunked his head on the shop wall with a loud huff, glaring up at the water dripping off the roof.

Well. There was one place he could probably manage dragging himself to.

Ten minutes later and no less than three stumbles and two actual near-faceplants into the wet sand and Sebastian found himself in front of Elliott’s cabin. The windows were fogged and blurry from the rain and cold, but he could see a faint light emitting from inside, and so with one hand steadying himself against the wall, Sebastian knocked hard on the wooden door.

Sebastian once again didn’t hear anything and was about to knock again or curse his fate when the door swung open, and Sebastian was suddenly face to face with a frazzled-looking Elliott.

Elliott blinked down at him, his brows furrowing for a moment as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing, but before Sebastian could even open his mouth to say, well, anything really, it seemed the older man got a hold of himself, jolting and reaching for Sebastian.

“What in the name of Yoba are you doing?!” Elliott demanded as he hauled Sebastian inside, the door practically slamming closed behind him. “Are you mad? Weather like this could be considered a death sentence!” Sebastian had to put his hands out to stop himself from barreling into Elliott’s chest, blinking in momentary shock as his brain reoriented itself.

Suddenly he felt even colder than just a few minutes ago, while also feeling like he was burning, it was so warm in the cabin. Sebastian shuddered harshly at the dual temperatures, and the next thing he knew, Elliott was helping him out of his hoodie.

“Sebastian, truly, what happened? I know you are not so foolish as to brave this weather without some protection against the elements.”

With the hoodie alone gone, Sebastian feels hotter but melts into the heat, welcoming it for a change. His shirt, pants, and shoes are still soaked too, but at least he doesn’t feel quite as constricted anymore. He watches Elliott hang his hoodie over a chair to dry and is beckoned to enter the cabin further.

He shucks off his shoes as he answers, wrapping his arms around himself even more. “I was enjoying the rain, having a cigarette, and I guess I didn’t notice the water getting so high, and I think a wave knocked me in?” He doesn’t mean it to sound like a question, but he really isn’t completely sure how he fell into the water. It’s his best guess, though.

Elliott looks him over more critically after that, and the concern in his eyes is almost palpable. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asks, though Sebastian doesn’t miss how his eyes linger on his hands, tucked beneath his arms and out of sight.

Sebastian cringes and holds out the injured hand, getting a look at it himself for the first time. Elliott approaches and takes it into his own, and Sebastian is surprised by how large Elliott’s hands are, even more so by the callouses that scratch lightly against his skin as Elliott tilts his hand around, examining it closely.

It’s not a bad wound, but the skin broke deep enough that it was clearly bleeding at some point, and when Elliott traces a finger over it gently Sebastian hisses.

Elliott looks him head to toe and back up, tilting his head down at Sebastian before looking around his cabin.

“You’re still quite cold,” he observes. “If you’re comfortable, I may have some spare clothes that would fit you, if you wish to get into something dry. I can look for my first aid kit in the meantime.”

“Dry clothes sound great now, actually,” Sebastian nodded, and Elliott smiled slightly at him before walking to his dresser to pull whatever he had in mind out.

The next few minutes passed in relative quiet, and when Sebastian was done changing and Elliott nudged him towards his bed to sit, the silence between them was more comfortable than Sebastian thought it would be. Elliott worked diligently to disinfect Sebastian’s scrape, and Sebastian watched him work.

It gave him time to think.

He was quite comfortable, actually, despite the burn of the alcohol on his palm. Elliott had handed him a maroon knitted sweater and some sweats that, while pretty large on Sebastian, were easily adjustable—Sebastian was just stunned that Elliott, who he had never seen in anything besides a suit or nice dress shirts, even owned. The cabin itself was small, and the storm was still raging outside, but it was quite cozy, lanterns and candles creating a yellow and orange haze.

It wasn’t terrible either, Sebastian mused, that he’d been getting to know Elliott a bit more before this.

Really, it had been Sam’s fault. Sam had wanted to get to know the farmer more, and the farmer hung around Leah and Elliott most of the time at the saloon, though Leah hadn’t been coming lately according to Elliott. Sam didn’t want to just approach alone though, and with Abigail grounded at home, it fell on Sebastian to be there for him. It was the first time in a long while that Sebastian had seen his best friend so nervous to get to know someone, which he’d refuse to admit aided in Sebastian being less grudging to hang out with the farmer and Elliott for the night. He had bit back his teasing of Sam, if only because Sam seemed genuinely really invested.

Sebastian was not expecting to actually really enjoy spending time with the farmer and Elliott—or rather, mostly just Elliott since Sam hoarded much of the farmer’s time.

They’d gotten to talking about their careers, and Sebastian had been surprised by just how much their jobs made them alike. How much they liked doing what they did.

Elliott had been fascinated to learn that Sebastian was a programmer, and asked dozens of questions, and Sebastian… Sebastian had never had more fun talking with someone.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved hanging out with his friends, but there were some things they just didn’t quite get. Really, Sebastian hadn’t really found anyone who understood what he did for work, or why he did it.

He was surprised by just how much of it Elliott understood.

Sebastian was even more surprised by how much he liked hearing Elliott talk.

He enjoyed hearing about the progress of his novel, the way he spoke about the structure of plots or character arcs or world building reminded him much of how he had to program things sometimes. And the creativity itself… Sebastian really enjoyed when Elliott would bounce ideas off him, because each scenario was often more unique than the last.

And then it happened again and again. Either he, Sam, and Abigail would join Elliott, the farmer, and sometimes Leah at their table, or they’d wander over to the saloon’s side room and join them on the arcade games or in a round of pool. And it wasn’t until once he was in bed that Sebastian realized he spent so much of the time talking to Elliott, and just Elliott.

“Something on your mind?” Sebastian was brought out of his thoughts by Elliott’s voice, and blinked down at his bandaged hand.

“Nothing important, really,” he lied easily—he would not admit he was coming to some conclusions about some new feelings for the man sitting right beside him, not right now. “This just got me thinking, what were you doing before I crashed in here?”

Elliott tilted his head, studying Sebastian’s face. Sebastian could feel his ears heating up under the scrutiny this close, and hoped his damp hair was enough to hide the blush. Whatever Elliott was looking for, Sebastian wasn’t sure if he found, but the writer shrugged and turned away, settling more comfortably onto his bed beside Sebastian.

“I was working on my novel,” he said with a sigh.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. That was a decidedly not a happy sigh. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve been stuck for the past week!” Elliott exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and slumping back to the cabin wall. “I don’t know, the words are just not coming. Every time I try and reorient the story, it’s like the characters are demanding to go into a different direction, into a different story.”

If it weren’t such an undignified term for such an expression, Sebastian would have said Elliott was pouting. It was almost surreal, to see him this disheveled and frustrated.

He shook his head, thinking back. Elliott was trying to write a romance, last Sebastian was told—and it had been going quite well, according to last week’s little talk. At least that’s what Sebastian had assumed, after seeing how enthusiastic Elliott had been to talk about it. He’d finished plotting everything out, finally figured out an ending, and seemed quite happy with what he had come up with.

What could have changed?

“What kind of direction are the characters trying to take it?” Sebastian asked, settling more into Elliott’s bed as well, pulling his feet up and leaning against the wall. “Like. Was there a tone change somewhere?”

Sebastian dealt with that a lot, when playing Solarian Chronicles with Sam and Abigail. The game would shift in tone depending on the day or what they were focusing on, and Sebastian would have to adapt the story to fit the tone. And it was infinitely easier to go along with the change rather than trying to force things to remain as planned.

“Well, I don’t know, I keep writing the characters speaking cryptically, or observing things that seem at first glance fine but when I reread, it seems ominous or strange because I’m dragging attention to it. But I want those details included as well.” He sighed, heavier this time than before. “Maybe it’s the books I’ve been reading…”

He said it in a murmur, but Sebastian still caught it, and it was his turn to tilt his head at Elliott, brows furrowing slightly.

“What kind of books have you been reading?”

Sebastian was treated to the pretty picture Elliott made when he blushed—and he would shove those thoughts away later, when he was safely tucked into his own bed and not thinking about today, thank you, but for now, he just enjoyed the flush that crossed over Elliott’s tan skin. The man seemed embarrassed over the genre at first, and Sebastian couldn’t imagine why, unless he was reading erotica or something, but Sebastian highly doubted that would lead to him writing cryptic dialog and ominous details.

Well, Sebastian thought, briefly remembering the few times he’d explored that genre himself and ended up being thoroughly creeped out, those aren’t the intended implications.

Elliott cleared his throat. “Um, actually, after you mentioned last week enjoying the mystery and thriller genres, I decided to pick up a few of your recommendations. Since then, I suppose I couldn’t get it out of my head about trying my hand in the genre myself.”

It took a second for Sebastian to realize what Elliott had said at first—the fact that he remembered what Sebastian liked reading, the fact that he found and read those books as well, sent a happy flush through Sebastian’s entire being, as cheesy as it may seem. And then the last part of his statement hit, he wanted to try writing a mystery or thriller because of him—indirectly most likely, but still.

Again, not the time to evaluate how that made him feel.

“How far are you in the book?” Sebastian asked.

“Not as far as I’d like, I’m afraid,” Elliott practically grumped.

“Well, why not turn it into a mystery or thriller?” When Elliott just raised a questioning brow at him, Sebastian smiled slightly, turning more towards Elliott. “We got into it last week, right, debating which genre was better? Romance and horror edge a fine line, just shift the tone a little, and a romance can be turned into a horror story or a horror turned into a rom-com.”

Elliott blinked at him, and for a moment, the wind roaring outside was the only thing that filled the air.

Then Elliott was leaping to his feet, Sebastian barely moving out of the way in time as Elliott spun around and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him ever so slightly.

“My dear Sebastian, you are a genius!”

Sebastian watched the man dart to his writing desk, scooping up his phone, the notebook, and pens scattered across it. Elliott dashed back to the bed, and wordlessly the two got comfortable leaning against the wall, a respectable distance between them. Elliott passed him the phone and spread the notebook out on his lap, flipping to a blank page.

After texting his mom with Elliott’s phone — letting her know where he was, and that he’d likely only be able to get home in the morning — Sebastian shifted just a little closer to Elliott, enough where he could feel Elliott beside him even if he closed his eyes, and settled in to watch Elliott work through his writing process.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

hey! i don’t know if you’re free/able to write right now but i have a request i’ve been meaning to put in :) it’s a oliver wood x reader one where the reader is dating someone, but it’s not a very healthy realationship and oliver realizes he’s in love with her too. maybe it some big arguement that causes y/n and her former partner to break up and when oliver realizes he comforts her and she eventually spits out her feelings. no pressure though <33

So this came out a tiny bit longer than I had planned, but I hope you like it! Thank you for the request! 💕

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of insecurities and a really awful boyfriend

~

Chocolate, tissues, and one of his oversized hoodies. This was Oliver’s patented feel-better recipe for you whenever you had a fight with your boyfriend. It was an embarrassing pattern: your boyfriend would be a jerk, you’d fight, he’d scream at you, you’d run to Oliver, Oliver would hold you while you cried, and, once your eyes were dry, you’d run back to your boyfriend and his half-apologies, which always managed to remind you how the fight was really your fault, and isn’t he actually the bigger person for forgiving you?

So, when you walked into potions class with a blotchy red face, Oliver knew exactly what to do. As soon as class ended, he took your hand and led you to Gryffindor tower and up to his dorm. Soon enough, the two of you were lounging on his bed, sharing some fudge he’d bought last time you were in Hogsmeade, laughing at the latest ridiculous thing his teammates had done at quidditch practice.

Oliver’s heart swelled as he watched the smile on your face, the one he knew hurt your cheeks. He felt proud; this was the fastest he’d gotten you from crying to laughing. But his heart also ached, knowing that any moment now you’d sober up and go find that rotten boyfriend of yours.

Sure enough, you eyed the clock warily, noting that it was almost dinner. “I should go,” you said slowly, slipping off the bed. “Got some reconciling to do.” You tried to smirk, to play it all off as a joke, but this smile didn’t quite reach your eyes the way it had a few minutes ago.

“Why do you stay?” Oliver blurted out.

You stared at him quizzically. “What d’you mean?”

He shrugged, knowing he was tiptoeing into dangerous territory. “He’s a jerk,” he explained. “He’s rude to you, he flirts with other girls in front of you, he makes fun of you, he talks behind your back…” Oliver shrugged again, a sigh escaping his lips. “You just deserve better. That’s all.”

There was a heavy silence as you mulled over Oliver’s words. He’s not wrong; your boyfriend is the worst. But he’s also the only boy to notice you in the five years you’ve been at Hogwarts. As you stare at Oliver, a tiny voice in your head can’t help but wish he would notice you like that. But you know that will never happen; he’s gorgeous and muscular, captain of his quidditch team, charming and outgoing, the absolute whole package. Just being friends with him was a dream come true.

You offered Oliver a small, sad smile. “Thanks, Oliver,” was all you could manage before turning and walking out the door.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Oliver laid back on his bed, shoving another piece of fudge into his mouth. Merlin, would you ever figure out how he felt about you?

~

The screaming match in the Great Hall was the final straw.

Your boyfriend was being obnoxious, as usual. Except this time, when you asked him to please stop, he doubled down, his voice growing louder with every word, until he was yelling at you in front of all the students trying to enjoy breakfast before going off on their Saturday morning activities.

“Calm down,” you begged through gritted teeth, the tears threatening to spill over as people’s heads turned to look at the two of you.

But he kept going, telling you all the horrible things he’s said before- insulting your looks, your intelligence, reminding you that you’re not funny, even comparing you to the girls whose beauty always made you feel insecure.

Something in you just broke in that moment. Maybe it was the cruel words spilling from his mouth. Maybe it was the look on his face, the anger in his eyes as he looked at you. Maybe it was the awful mixes of pity and disgust on your schoolmates’ faces. Whatever it was, you stood up, jaw set. You ignored your shaking legs and looked down at him.

“I’m done.”

That was it. That was all you said. Two words, and then you climbed out of your seat and willed yourself to march out of the Great Hall, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed you.

You wandered aimlessly through the hallways, just needing to get away from him, along with the embarrassing scene he’d just caused. Now you’d be that girl whose boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself) screamed at her at breakfast. Great.

Finally finding an empty hallway, you collapsed on the ground and buried your hands in your face. You felt a mix of relief, embarrassment, and sorrow; but mostly you felt free.

Someone sat down next to you. It couldn’t be him, because he’d be screaming in your face by now. When you looked up, you didn’t feel an ounce of surprise to see Oliver Wood by your side, watching you with tenderness.

“Hey,” he whispered. He reached over and took your hand. “Y’okay?”

Surprising yourself, you nodded. “Yeah. I think… I think I actually am.”

He smiled gently at you. “Good, good.” He paused a moment, looking down at your clasped hands. “You’re really done with him?”

With a sigh, you nodded again. “Yes.” You leaned your head back against the stone wall and gave his hand a squeeze. “Because of you, you know.”

“Me?”

“Well… yeah.” You turned your head to look at him. “You were the one who told me I deserve better. And back there in the Great Hall, I realized you were right.” You shrugged. “So, thanks, I guess.”

Oliver’s smile grew. “You’re very welcome.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, his thumb stroking your hand gently. You scooched closer and leaned your head on his shoulder, the way you had about a million times before. But something this time felt different.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered, so quietly Oliver was almost unsure if he heard you.

“Hmm?”

You sat up, looking at Oliver again. His golden eyes searched yours. “Why do you put up with me?” The confidence you had discovered in the Great Hall was beginning to dissipate. “All my drama and- and my crying and my neediness. Why’d you put up with it?"

“Er…” Oliver’s cheeks burned as he let out an awkward chuckle. “I mean, we’re best friends, right? It’s what best friends do.”

There was something in his tone, in his nervous shifting, in the way he couldn’t quite meet your eye, that told you something wasn’t quite right. “Oliver?”

He ran his free hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m-I’m not trying to press you into something- especially right now- but I mean, I always figured it was pretty obvious-” Another deep breath as he finally met your eye. “I love you.” His smile returned, lopsided and bashful now. “I’ve loved you for years now. And I figured eventually you’d realize that you deserve a lot better than that-” He gestured in the direction of the Great Hall. “-and that, when you were ready, I could maybe have a shot with you.”

“Oh.” That was all you could say as his words washed over you. Your mind raced, recalling all the times you’d turned to Oliver for comfort and the million different ways he knew to make you smile. Slowly, a smile spread across your face. You leaned forward and pecked his cheek, warmth against your lips.

Now it was Oliver’s turn to smile. “So, I do have a shot?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, leaning your head back against his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “I’d say you have a shot.”

[acasualcrossfade]

Whumpril Day 13: “I think I need to sit down.”

Heat Exhaustion

Written for @whumpril challenge Day 13: Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”

Stranger Things: Steve/Eddie

Words: 1049

TW: dizziness

Steve is dizzy after his lifeguarding shift and staggers to the concession stand, where Eddie works, for help.

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

Steve’s ears roared as he stepped down from the lifeguard stand. 

The air felt thicker and slower, and suddenly he was too hot in his tank top and shorts. Steve could feel the heat climb up his legs and across his chest as the cacophony of the public pool faded to a low hum in his ears. He staggered as he approached the concession stand, glad to see that Eddie was on shift behind the counter. The world seemed to shift and tilt under him.

Dimly, he wondered if Eddie could see that he was on fire. 

“Steve?” Eddie called, immediately jumping from his perch from behind the counter. “Steve, you okay?” Worry coated his words as he saw how unsteady Steve looked.

“I-I think I need to s-sit down,” Steve moaned, his voice barely a whisper. The ground swayed like he was standing on a waterbed and his mouth felt like dry paper and he leaned heavily on Eddie, who led him the rest of the way to the concession stand counter.

“You’re burning up,” Eddie frowned and led Steve into the concession stand, and then to the back room. He sat Steve in the chair closest to the fan that blew loudly from the corner. “Here, sit. I’ll be right back with a few things.”

With Steve supported against it, Eddie swiped a hand across his forehead. Steve frowned when Eddie’s hand left; he wanted nothing more than to melt into Eddie’s arms and press himself against his familiar worn t-shirt.

Steve put his head in his hands as he relished the feeling of cool air on his overheated skin.

Eddie was gone for less than a second and returned with a cup of water, a cup of ice and a tray of damp clothes balanced on the two cups. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight. His boyfriend might not have the obvious muscles, but his balance and agility were unmatched. 

“When did you start feeling like this?” Eddie tutted, already positioning the fan so it blew directly on Steve. He pressed a hand against Steve’s forehead and bit his lip, and then nodded at the fan. “If this isn’t enough, I have no qualms about carrying you to the showers.” 

Steve frowned when Eddie’s hand left his forehead; he wanted nothing more than to melt into Eddie’s arms and press himself against his familiar worn t-shirt.

Steve lifted and lowered his shoulder, trying to give Eddie answer. His brain felt too heavy and sludgy to really think much about it. When had he started feeling like this? Maybe the middle of his shift? Or was it closer to the end? His memories felt like he was grasping at a wet soap bar. 

Eddie pressed one of the cool cloths to Steve’s forehead and temples, and Steve sighed in relief. Eddie dabbed at his jaw and cheeks, and then gently, the back of his neck. 

Slowly, Steve could feel the overwhelming heat extinguish away.

Eddie's eyes were warm and inviting as he took in Steve’s form. “Geez Stevie, how is it that even with heat exhaustion you look…”

Steve breathed out a laugh at that. “Like a damsel… dressed as a lifeguard?”

Eddie gave him a secret smile that made Steve’s heart skip. “Something like that.”

Eddie handed Steve a cup with a straw and the ice knocked together in the Styrofoam cup. “Here, we gotta get some water in you.” He held out the straw to Steve. “Slowly though, I don’t want you to get sick.” 

Steve sipped slowly as Eddie held the straw in place. The water felt like heaven against his paper-dry mouth and Steve fought the temptation to gulp down the whole cup.

Finally, the world was coming back into focus. 

Eddie cupped his chin in his palm and gave him a sympathetic look. “How do you feel now?”

“Better. Less dizzy.” Words came easier and Steve felt a weight start to lift from his brain. He met Eddie’s eyes.

Ever since that day in the shed, Steve hadn’t been able to forget the hard intenseness of the man’s stare. They glinted and gleamed and shone, and after their first kiss, they looked like melted chocolate. Now, Eddie’s chocolate eyes studied him as if he was spontaneously going to lose consciousness.

“It’s already better,” Steve assured Eddie. He already felt more steady than he had a few minutes ago and he felt cooler.

Still, Eddie eyed him carefully. “You still look pretty pale, Harrington. And pale isn’t the best look on you.” Eddie bit his lip and Steve could see him starting to contemplate how to get him into the showers.

Steve tried to concentrate on something else. The attention, being seen, still made his cheeks and ears heat in shame. He was too used to assuring people he was fine and they typically agreed once they saw he could walk, talk, and function. 

It wasn’t until Steve was truly alone when he’d let himself fall apart.

But with Eddie, it was like the man had a sixth sense for it. He saw right past it all. And sure enough, when Steve tried to stand up to prove he was fine, the world swayed.

Eddie steadied him easily, his eyes wide. “Woah, okay, nope, you’re not going anywhere.” 

Steve nodded mutely and let Eddie guide him to put his head between his knees. Eddie kept a hand on his back as he sat, and then slowly started to rub his shoulders.  

He felt Eddie’s hand leave for a moment and he looked up. Dizziness still hummed in his ears. “Eds?”

“Right here, Steve,” Eddie replied, placing another chair next to him. “We’re gunna stay here ‘til the end of my shift.”

“Here?” Steve looked around the small break room. “Don’t you have to work out there?”

“I got it covered,” Eddie replied easily. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

And for the first time in a long time, Steve found that he didn’t have to worry. He let Eddie push a few strands of his stubbornly sweaty hair off his forehead before going back to rubbing his back and shoulders. 

And as Steve recovered, he allowed himself to be cared for and cared about.

[theoseong]

Theo's Past Relationships

As Theo once said, he’s kind of a serial monogamist. He’s had plenty of hook-ups, but he’s more of a relationship kind of guy, even if they rarely last long. Here’s a summary of his past notable crushes and relationships.

Jude Derringer (Hybrid): Theo discovered he was gay when he was 13 and developed a hopeless crush on his dad’s employee’s son, Jude Derringer. He always thought Jude was cool, but one day he noticed how much he loved his heterochromatic eyes, one gold and one hazel-green. Theo knew it could never go anywhere. Jude was way too old for him at 21, but at least he understood how hot boys were now.  (FC: Jackson Rathbone) 

Brad Enair (Erkuss): When Theo was 15, he couldn’t stop looking at the pretty blond boy with gold eyes in his history class. Instead of paying attention to important dates, he planned ways to ask Brad on a date. He almost wrote him a song, but couldn’t find the right words, so instead he wrote him a note that said, “Do you want to go on a date with me?” and two check boxes for “yes” and “no.” Shockingly, Brad said yes. Theo ended up taking him on a date to the diner, because he didn’t have enough money for a real date. Their relationship lasted a grand total of three weeks before Brad got bored of him working at the diner all the time after school and broke up with him.  (FC: Lucas Till)

Ross Volges (Erkuss): By the age of 16, Theo was a lot more confident with his songwriting skills and decided he was going to ask out the hot 18-year-old Erkuss with violet eyes through the art of song. After school, he pulled Ross aside and played him his song and only fumbled with the chords a little bit. Ross was actually extremely flattered and asked Theo on a date to the arcade before they became boyfriends that same day. Ross was the one Theo shared his first time with, and he was convinced he was in love with him after two whole months of dating. The excitement ended though when Ross grew more and more annoyed with Theo’s constant talk about music. The final straw was when Ross said “MCR isn’t even that good,” leading Theo to end it then and there.  (FC: Jacob Artist)

Marty Irlai (Erkuss): It’d been two years since he broke up with Ross, and Theo was tired of being single. Hook-ups weren’t the same. No one had really caught his eye, until a new kid enrolled in his school, who had just moved from Different City. Marty ended up sitting next to Theo in their Flagruu class, and his gold eyes lit up with excitement when he told him all about his favorite bands. Apparently, Different City’s music scene was better than Rungung’s, and he was feeling pretty homesick. Theo invited Marty over after school, so he could play a few songs for him. He even offered to teach him how to play guitar. Marty and Theo ended up kissing more instead of playing, which led to a whirlwind five month long relationship. It all fell apart when Marty seemed a little too close with the lead in the school musical. Theo couldn’t control his jealousy, and it annoyed Marty so much that he dumped him…and then dated that same guy a month later. (FC: Xiao Zhan)

Zack Strun (Erkuss): It took Theo a while to recover from Marty. He found it a lot harder to trust people when Marty was still dating that musical theater asshole. Sure, he never cheated on Theo, but he made him feel crazy for being jealous when apparently had a good reason to be. When Theo was 21, he skipped school to go to the mall, because he needed new boots and that felt more important than classes. There was a cute guy working at the register with red eyes like Theo’s. He offered to help Theo pick out a pair of boots and complimented him a lot, until he eventually gave him his number. It started off as just hooking up, since Theo didn’t feel ready for a relationship again, but Zack confessed he actually had feelings for him, so he gave him a chance. They didn’t see each other very much though because of their jobs, and eventually Zack stopped texting him back. They never officially broke up, they just stopped talking.  (FC: Nicholas Galitzine)

Robin Astrea (Hybrid): Five months after his relationship with Zack fizzled out, a cute hybrid came up to him in the cafeteria and asked him on a date out of the blue. Theo thought Robin was adorable from the moment he met him, but didn’t expect to fall for him as hard as he did. Robin was younger than any of his past boyfriends, but somehow seemed to be more mature than any of them and already had his life planned out. The only problem was his plan didn’t align at all with Theo’s. By then, Theo was already set on leaving home soon to play music, and Robin was going to become a smuggler one day. Despite the fact that they still had feelings for each other, they ended their relationship to focus on their future careers.  (FC: Cha Eunwoo)

Bowie Vussaer (Erkuss): After moving to Different City, Theo missed Robin a lot. He knew he made the right decision to move, but that didn’t make his feelings for his ex-boyfriend fade any faster. He was too focused on trying to get a record deal to think about a new relationship, but it kind of happened anyway. Bowie was a bartender at the bar Theo’s new band sometimes played gigs at. He always slid Theo free shots with a big grin on his face, his violet eyes lingering a little too long on his lips. His eyes reminded him of Robin’s, which only made him miss him more. Against Theo’s better judgment, he ended up sleeping with Bowie one night. Maybe because he was lonely and missed Robin. Bowie wanted more than a one night stand though, and he seemed to actually really like Theo and his music, so he agreed to go on a few dates with him until he was suddenly his boyfriend. Theo could never seem to give Bowie what he wanted though. He kept his past to himself, rarely talked about anything deeper than music, while Bowie was always open and vulnerable with him. One day, with tears in his eyes, Bowie told Theo he couldn’t be with him anymore because he was basically giving him nothing.  (FC: Taylor Zakhar Perez)

Larry Mennet (Erkuss): Theo was 24 and had been living in Different City for a year now with no record deal and no money. He had to work part-time in a coffee shop to afford the rent, which wasn’t a great idea when he was usually up all night and had to open the shop at five in the morning. With dark circles under his eyes, Theo wrote down the name “Larry” on a flat white without looking up when the man commented that he looked like he could use the coffee more than him. Larry was handsome with his dirty blond hair and red eyes, but clearly older than Theo–32 to be exact. For some reason, this well-rounded adult with a real job in tech wanted to treat Theo to dinner. At first, their relationship was pretty nice. Larry went to his shows and bought him things like food and clothes, but then Theo realized, again, he wanted something he couldn’t give him. Larry was ready to settle down, get married and move into a house to start a family, none of which suited Theo’s lifestyle, and he wasn’t willing to compromise for him. Larry kept urging Theo to quit music and let him be his provider, until he eventually grew too frustrated and ended the relationship.  (FC: Glen Powell)

Oliver Vix (Erkuss): By 25, Theo was beginning to accept that maybe relationships just weren’t for him. He wanted a boyfriend, and he wanted to be in love, but men just didn’t seem to accept Theo’s life or personality, so what could he do? The last person he truly felt like wanted him just the way he was, was Robin, and that was years ago. He never considered dating someone from his band, it seemed like a bad idea, but he was always close with their drummer, Oliver. At first Theo thought it was just friendship, but he and Oliver started spending more time together outside of rehearsals and gigs, and he actually found himself opening up about what happened at Rungung, because he thought he could trust him. Theo stopped looking at Oliver as a friend and as a potential relationship, falling in love with the way his gold eyes shined when he smiled, along with the cute dimples on his cheeks. He realized he was in love with him when he couldn’t stop writing songs about him, and, one night, he confessed after everyone else left rehearsal by singing him one of the songs. Oliver kissed him and told him he was in love with him too, which began Theo’s longest relationship so far.

For a year, Theo thought Oliver was finally the one. Things were pretty perfect. They already lived together, since they shared an apartment with the band, and they were both completely dedicated to music, so there was no way he was getting dumped for that again. It never even occurred to Theo that Oliver would cheat on him. It started with little warning signs. Oliver would turn his screen from him when he got texts, he stopped going home with Theo after rehearsal, claiming he was looking for more gigs or had to repair his drums…three times. Theo tried to ignore his suspicions, remembering the last time he got jealous. He left a shift at the coffee shop early when he started to run a fever and went home, only to walk in on Oliver fucking another guy. Needless to say, Theo was devastated and heartbroken. Luckily, the band was on his side and ended up kicking Oliver out. This was a breakup that Theo didn’t know he could recover from, but he all but forgot about Oliver completely when his dad died a few months later.  (FC: Samuel Larsen)

Robin Astrea (Hybrid): Theo’s life was a lot different after he moved back home. He took over the diner while grieving his father and pretty much put music behind him. It made Theo look back and think about his life leading up to this point. He had been so selfish and focused on himself that he never made up with his father, and maybe he really was the reason so many of his relationships ended the way they did. The only ex he really looked back on fondly was Robin, the only relationship that ended because of external factors and not because Theo cared too much about music or…wasn’t hot enough or something. Even if Theo stayed home, Robin would've left. He accepted that Robin would just be one of those exes thought about and smiled and nothing more, because he was long gone at that point. Or at least he thought so, until Henry Astrea walked into the diner and sort of adopted him.

After Henry helped Theo get a job on the prosperity, and he reunited with Robin, he pretty much knew from the beginning he was going to fall in love with him all over again. Robin was so different from when they were young, and so was Theo, but somehow it still felt the same. They took their time getting to know each other again and treading the line between friends and something more. For Robin’s birthday, Theo gave him a song he wrote about him years ago, but when he didn’t get a response, he figured the hybrid just wanted to be friends. During Theo's birthday party a few months later, Robin pulled Theo aside and asked about his feelings, which led to them kissing and becoming boyfriends again. Robin is Theo’s current boyfriend, and he’s very in love with him. He plans on doing whatever it takes to keep him this time. 

[thisaintascenereviews]

Thy Art Is Murder - Godlike

Thy Art Is Murder has had a very interesting couple of weeks, haven’t they? The Australian deathcore band has had a really prosperous decade, with releasing sophomore album Hate in 2012, and catapulting into deathcore fame. While their popularity has waned a bit since, they still have that legendary status, thanks to that record. I’ve enjoyed most of their work, but their last LP, 2019’s Human Target, was almost paint-by-numbers deathcore that didn’t offer anything new, despite still being solid enough. Well, the band was slated to release their newest LP, Godlike, on September 15th, but they randomly announced they were delaying it a week. Weeks before that, vocalist CJ MacMahon posted some very transphobic things that he didn’t quite apologize for, and the band first made a very weak apology to that, only to make a much better apology a few days later. I guess they realized that wasn’t enough, so on September 22nd, they announced that the reason they were delaying the album a week is because they fired MacMahon and got on a vocalist (first unnamed, but now they’ve started playing shows and it’s Aversions Crown vocalist Tyler Miller, but that got the metal world fired up in a few different ways.

Some people were angry with the band for firing him over “free speech,” and then replacing him with next to no warning, but other people were mad at MacMahon for saying that he wasn’t going to apologize, and that led the band to fire him. It seemed like there was a lot more to the story, as the band said that was the final straw, but the drama isn’t the point of this review. Personally, though, I think it’s good the band kicked him out. We have no room for transphobes, even if Ronnie Radke stood up on his defense and wants to “boycott Thy Art Is Murder.” Anyone would be a better vocalist than CJ, just as long as they aren’t transphobic pieces of trash, but I digress.

Godlike is a very unfortunate title for this album, because that immediately has great expectations for this album, which it doesn’t completely reach. That should be obvious, but here’s the thing with Godlike — it has some incredible moments that make this album one of my favorites of the year, and I never thought I’d say that about a Thy Art Is Murder album. I don’t listen to a lot of deathcore these days, because of how incessantly “brutal” the genre has gotten, but Godlike reminds me of the heyday of the genre, where all that mattered were sick breakdowns, cool riffs, and a good vocalist with some range (Miller is a very good vocalist, and while he doesn’t do anything different or out of the ordinary for what a deathcore vocalist should do, he proves that MacMahon isn’t as good as people think). Godlike has all of that, and a lot of the album is really awesome, especially with album opener “Destroyer Of Dreams” that has a really cool riff running throughout it, and Miller’s vocals are monstrous. Songs like “Join Me In Armageddon” or “Keres” have awesome breakdowns that I can’t get enough of, and it shows the best qualities of the genre, all the while without feeling boring or stale. This album is only 40 minutes, and it feels like it’s the perfect length in that respect.

Some of this album feels like the best qualities of deathcore and some of the more bland, albeit in a solid enough way. This album isn’t really anything special, minus a few blackened passages, crushing breakdowns, and some really cool guitar solos, but that’s not quite a bad thing, either. If you’re a sucker for this sound, you’ll enjoy it a lot, but if you want a little something more from the genre, you may be disappointed. Personally, the album rules, warts and all, because it reminds me a lot of what I love about the genre, especially having a more stripped down sound that takes it back to basics, instead of trying to be as brutal as possible, and that’s all I need. Yeah, it isn’t revolutionary, but there’s nothing wrong with that, either. For all the moments that are relatively generic (yet they’re still pretty good, all things considered), there are some truly awesome moments that genuinely surprised me. I’d say check this out if you want a sick deathcore record that does what it does well, and throwing in a few surprising curveballs along the way that elevate the album a bit.

[bubbledumbbinch]

I really like your smut writing! So can I please request some spicy headcanons for Floyd, Epel, Riddle and Idia with a fem s!o who surprises them by sending a nudes? How would they react? Thank you^^

Aaa thank you so much!!! I’m p new to this writing/requests thing so I’m really glad you like it! :’)

Warnings: light degradation on Riddle’s part

A/N: this piece of writing is purely 18+. Minors do not interact

NSFW below the cut

Floyd Leech x Fem!Reader

You and Floyd are practically inseparable. You spend so much time together that you feel so sad and empty when he’s gone doing something else!

So when Floyd has work at the lounge or basketball practice, who can blame you when you say you felt a bit lonely? You decide to send your lovely eel boyfriend some photos back in your bedroom while you’re alone.

The body parts you decide to send photos of are your breasts and ass, specifically the parts Floyd loves to squeeze! Well, he loves to squeeze all of you, but he favors those because you make some really cute noises when he does it!

Floyd would take one look at his cell phone, immediately drop everything he’s doing and come find you. If he was working at the lounge then he would drop his tray. If he were at basketball practice he would just straight up leave. His stuff would still be there LOL.

He would definitely be rough with you (as if he isn’t normally) and remove any clothing you had on, if you still had any on, and fuck you multiple times for sending those photos to him while he was away! Don’t you know how much he missed you already?

Floyd pays special attention to use his hands to squeeze your breasts, nipples, or ass with his fingers while he’s ramming his cock deep in your cunt, his head kissing your cervix with each thrust.

It hadn’t even been 3 minutes after you clicked ‘send’ on those photos for Floyd. He didn’t even respond to you, which had you feeling a bit sad. Usually he replied within the minute! You covered your naked form up loosely with the white sheet, which accentuated your body shape even while draped with it.

“Shrimpyyy~” an eerily sweet voice called out in the hallways leading up to your room, leaving you with goosebumps. Suddenly your door burst open and Floyd was standing there, obvious tent in his pants.

“Hi Floyd…” you called out to him. Floyd’s eyes widened and his smile grew large. “You look like a siren Shrimpy…. you’re making me wanna squeeeeze you~” The eel merman closed the distance between you and ripped the sheet off your body, exposing you completely.

Epel Felmier x Fem!Reader

Epel would probably be busy with Vil, learning how to use some new product Vil was promoting soon.

Epel hears a ding on his phone saying you texted him but ignores it since Vil is trying to lecture him. He will definitely get back to you soon! If it was urgent you would call him.

Once Vil is finished with him, Epel finally returns to his room, and opens your text. He definitely doesn’t expect to see you scantily clad in a lavender set of lingerie!!!

Y/N: “Hey my favorite farmboy~ I know you’re probably busy right now but I bought this while I was thinking about you. I’m getting hungry, and I would love to have an apple in my mouth right now. Come over soon~”

Epel gulps down and feels his cock starting to harden in his pants. A part of him just wants to video call you and have phone sex but another part of him wants to ravage you in person!

He would definitely be happy he opened that text in his room!!! Vil didn’t need to see Epel getting so worked up over this.

“I’m on my way now.” He sends the text quickly.

Epel would remove any bits of makeup on his face before heading over to your dorm, bringing over some snacks. Beads of sweat were already starting to build on his face as he enters and heads toward your room.

When he finally gets there, he’s sweet at first when it comes to foreplay and kisses, but you want to see his real side and he wants to show it to you too! Epel would roughly slap your ass and fuck you doggystyle, while you’re screaming out his name, lingerie thrown on the floor along with his own clothes.

“Y/N..?” Epel knocks on your door and opens it, peeking around to see you in bed. “Come here, Epel. I’ve been waiting for a while now, and I want to see how well this set matches with your hair, preferably with your head between my legs~?” You finally used your pointer finger to beckon for him to come closer, in which he quickly did. The boy didn’t hide the way his eyebrows quirked in determination as he smiled eagerly. He knelt down and pulled your panties off, shoving his tongue into your leaking hole.

Riddle Rosehearts x Fem!Reader

Riddle was a changed person after his incident when you were still a new student. You grew to love him and it ultimately led to you two being in a relationship!

Riddle was always very gentle with you when it came to being intimate, you often wanted him to be a bit rougher with you but he said “it wouldn’t be chivalrous”.

You decide to take matters into your own hands by building up tension - you start breaking rules here and there. Riddle would forgive you at first but once he noticed how often you did it, his face would turn red and his voice would raise, yet he still forgave you!

You decide to send a photo of yourself in his bedroom, dressed in a red babydoll lingerie set, your body spread out on his sheets. If you’re bold, you also take pictures with his crown atop your head, showing off the way your nipples perked in the set.

Y/N: “Riddle my dear~, I’ve been so bad. You know it, and I know it. Why don’t you come over here and punish me?”

This was the final straw - your punishment starts now. He’s forgiven your rule breaking so easily because he had a soft spot for you! But you knew this whole time you were breaking rules?!

Riddle storms in a few minutes after sending you many texts in all caps. Once he really sees you sprawled out so seductively on his bed, he can’t help but let his face go red as he swallows a lump in his throat.

His mixture of anger and arousal showed quite freely when he was fucking you into his bed, spewing light degradations towards you while teasing you for being such a whore.

Riddle hikes your leg up onto his shoulder, using it as a leverage to hit a new angle inside your already abused cunt. “So, you really were trying to break those rules on purpose, my rose?” Riddle panted while smirking down at your squealing form. “And then you come into my room while I’m not here, pose so lewdly on my bed, wearing that? I guess you are a dirty slut.” Riddle chuckled darkly, still fucking against your pussy. His grip on your leg tightened. “Say it. Tell me you’re a dirty slut, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you…”

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader

Idia… this guy lives his life digitally, he likes texting you frequently, and sometimes he still gets nervous seeing you in person, as your boyfriend!

One day he wasn’t texting you back, which had to mean he was PROBABLY busy gaming.

You decide to surprise him by getting into a cosplay of a character that you both liked. The costume was already a bit revealing but you decided to take it to the next level by sending upskirt pictures that accentuated your butt, and even shots of your panties being soaked under the skirt!

When Idia opened his texts, the photos of you flooded his screen and he screeched, shutting it off before Ortho could wonder what was wrong! “O-Ortho, could you please patrol the hallways right now? I just f-found out I have to do something. A-and,” the blue haired boy stuttered. “Feel free to start up conversations with the dorm members, for as long as you want, okay?” Ortho of course happily agreed and practically flew out of the room.

I can see Idia either calling you to come over or he would want to video call you and watch you bring yourself to orgasm.

Seeing you in those clothes though, I would imagine him reaalllyy wanting you to come over, though.

Idia called your phone and you could hear his shaky breath starting to talk. “Y-Y/N, could you nnh- come over, please? And, m-maybe wear a jacket over yourself, I want to see you wearing that outfit here, please…”

Once you get to Idia’s room, he pulls you eagerly in an embrace, and you feel his hard cock poking your stomach through his pants.

Idia loves to watch you bounce on his cock while you’re wearing the same exact cosplay in the photos!

“Aanh- Y/N-shi…” Idia covered his face with the sleeve of his shirt. His cheeks were radiating heat and his eyes were glazed over with pleasure. The skirt you wore was hiked up to your waist, shirt on the floor along with your bra. “Mm, Idia~ it feels so good, I’m so haaah, so close..!” You could only whimper out, feeling yourself clench around his cock. “C-cumming!!” He pulled you down into a kiss in which you both moaned into as you milked his hot cum into your greedy hole.

[lovesupernova25]

okay, so... the new episode came out and i was sucked back into tss against my will. sorry to everyone who followed me for dsmp stuff 😅. buuuuuuuut- that means it’s time for another character analysis!

So I want to talk about Remus.

There’s been a lot of theorizing about Logan’s character development and the orange side (which i am super excited for!!) but i haven’t seen that many posts discussing Remus’s role in this last episode, which I think was a LOT more important than we all realized.

Here’s the thing: Remus is smarter than he looks. We haven’t gotten to see much of this before now- I mean, sure, he had like an entire 45 minutes devoted solely to him, but that was just the introduction. There’s clearly a lot more to Remus than he lets on, and we got a bit of that in WTIT. Now this episode was great for a lot of reasons, but especially because it started to answer a question i’ve had since DWIT-- what is Remus’s purpose? He’s intrusive thoughts, yes. But that isn’t why he exists. Every side has a certain job to fulfill, all of which help thomas in some way. For example, Virgil’s title is anxiety, but his purpose is to keep Thomas safe.

So what is Remus really trying to accomplish? If we just look at DWIT, it seems like all he’s trying to do is hurt thomas. But that can’t be right- it seems the only common factor between the sides is that they all want to help thomas as much as possible (though they have very different ideas of what ‘help‘ is). So how does Remus help thomas? Lets look at what he does.

Probably the most beneficial thing Remus has done is get Logan to snap at him. Why? Because Logan ‘I do not have emotions and everything will be fine if i simply ignore them’ Sanders needed that. And Remus knew this. He also— because it’s his job--knew exactly what buttons to push to get get to Logan’s breaking point. He knows that Logan is feeling ignored- which already makes him a lot more perceptive than any of the others seem to be.

Here’s the thing: A problem can’t be solved until it’s addressed.

So what’s Remus’s purpose? What has he done?

Remus is honesty. That’s not his title, no, but that’s his purpose. To get Thomas to be honest with himself. Remus takes all the nasty, slimy, twisted parts of everyone that they’ve all preferred to just shove under the rug and he brings them to the light. He pokes and prods and needles until they have no choice but to address their problems, and, consequently... fix them.

And here’s the thing! WTIT isn’t the first time Remus has done this. Remember when he first appeared? Remember all those little comments toward Virgil, pushing his buttons and dropping subtle hints that left everyone else confused?

Remus was the tipping point, the last straw that led to Virgil finally telling thomas about his past. And Remus knew this. Sure, it was awful, and there was definitely a better way get Virgil out of his shell—but it eventually led to what we saw in the first asides. Thomas let Virgil know that they were still friends, and it was okay. They were okay, despite a rocky history.

I‘m sure Virgil himself would’ve preferred never to tell thomas— but they couldn’t have truly moved on and worked through other problems if he hadn’t.

I‘m almost certain the same thing is going to happen with Logan being ignored, and whoever the orange side turns out to be.

Remus is working for Thomas’s benefit, even if it’s hard to see.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Regret Duet

Pro Hero!Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, angst, betrayal, tears, strong language, post-break up, semi-public sex

A/N: this is a song I like to call Katsuki Bakugou is my favorite character to hurt. MINORS DNI. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!

“…what happened to us?”

That’s the question Katsuki Bakugou knows isn’t supposed to be brought up, but for the past hour of catching up (if he can even call it that), it’s been burning his tongue, begging to be asked. He has to ask. Because maybe the question hasn’t been driving him crazy for only an hour. Maybe the question has been plaguing him all these years since your disappearance. It’s only by coincidence that you—you, the girl-now-woman who Bakugou would’ve laid down his life for—appeared at the hotel bar at the place he’s supposed to be patrolling. After circling around a few times to make sure it really was you, and after he fought off the cotton forming in his mouth, he’d finally taken the seat next to you.

“It took you long enough,” you’d said, and it’d blown his mind. Those were the first five words he’d heard from you in four years.

Since then, chit-chat has been friendly, if not incredibly vague. When asked where you’ve been, you’d shrugged, and with little interest, listed places such as South Korea, India, and Thailand. When asked if you’ve seen anybody the two of you used to know, you had scoffed.

That had been the catalyst to get you talking, but since then you’ve diverted the conversation into what Bakugou has been up to. Which has been the shitty part of finding you. Everyone knows what Bakugou’s been doing. He’s a high ranking hero, he’s got merch, and he’s loved throughout Japan. That’s it. That’s the tea. He hasn’t seriously dated anybody if that was what you’ve been wondering. He hopes you did wonder. He hopes you’ve thought about him as much as he has thought about you. And that’s what he plans to find out, if only you’ll open up. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to talk about himself.

On the other hand, you’re enjoying yourself. Watching your ex’s ears flame up every time you catch him checking you out, eyeing your smooth and exposed legs, is peak entertainment. He probably hates that he’s found you here wearing one of your best cocktail dresses—the one that hugs you in all the right places. It’s clear that you’ve worn it to grab attention, and if you knew anything about Katsuki Bakugou, he hated it when other men looked at you. He can’t fault you though. You’re not his. Not anymore.

However, after bringing up an inside joke from the past and hearing the hauntingly familiar chimes of your laughter, Bakugou couldn’t help but think why not? Why aren’t you his anymore? These prodding thoughts are what led him to ask the question to begin with.

The time it takes you to answer him is borderline sadistic. You’re milking his anticipation, swirling your two little straws around the martini glass you haven't taken a sip from—he’s noticed—while humming to yourself. Bakugou wonders if you bought the drink for yourself, or if some other sleazebag tried putting moves on you before he found you. The thought boils his blood.

“You know what happened to us,” you finally say, and there’s no animosity, not even a hint of regret. It’s insipid. It’s heartbreaking. “You chose your job.”

“I didn’t-!” He starts, but you hold up your hand, stopping him from raising his voice. The bartender looks at you and strikes the classic is-this-guy-bothering-you pose, which you appreciate since nearly anybody else would see that it’s Dynamight sitting in a barstool and look the other way.

“Don’t get excited,” you say, “but don’t you remember that day? I basically gave you an ultimatum.” You roll your eyes. “I was so dramatic back then.”

“Of course I remember…” Bakugou murmurs. That day was and is a literal nightmare. You, crying, packing your bags, using your quirk to have inanimate objects attack him. Despite the morose feeling washing over him, he smiles when he says, “you had your hairdryer chase me around the condo.”

“That was a good hairdryer.” You sniff and Bakugou actually chuckles. He’d blown it to bits.

“None of that shit had to happen,” he says after a moment of contemplation. He watches his gloved fists clench and unclench, thanking the stars that the tip the agency got about some sort of heist going down at the hotel tonight turned out to be bunk. “If we’d just sat down and talked…”

“There was nothing left to talk about, Katsuki. I wanted to work on our future, and you wanted to work on your future.”

“My future is our future,” Bakugou says without thinking. Is. Was. He doesn’t correct himself. He doesn’t want to. “I’ve been working on becoming a hero since I was a kid, and—“

“—and that’s valid. Listen, I’m not claiming to be the victim here. I was selfish and tired of being left alone. You had priorities and I wasn’t one of them.”

The snap of Bakugou’s molars can be heard across the room. Not a priority. A fucking blind person could see how much he cherished you, and only you. He knows that for a while, he’d put work first, but that had been to benefit the both of you in the end. Even then, he’d spent months after you left regretting doing that, because it ultimately drove you away from him. But it’d only been temporary. If you hadn’t left, the two of you would be happily married, in love, and prospering together.

Through clenched teeth, he utters, “I put that rock on your finger, didn’t I?”

The twist in your lips is maddening. Bakugou can’t tell if your expression is hurt, or angry, or sardonic. You don’t say anything. Fucking hell, he’s a razor’s edge away from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking the words out of you. He remembers those tearful eyes, the ultimatum…how he’d failed to move fast enough.

Instead of grabbing you, Bakugou whispers, “I don’t want to fight with you…”

“Oh. I didn’t realize this was a fight!” You half-laugh, and it’s baffling how you’re not the least bit affected by this conversation. “Jeez, how am I supposed to take on the pro-hero Hot-shot? Go on and cuff me now. We both know that I’m no match for you. Don’t you remember when we used to spar?” You snicker, a suggestible glint lighting your eye. “Remember what you’d do after you got me pinned to the mat?”

Bakugou goes still, and you’re again pleased to see the rosy hue return to his ears. God, he is just too easy.

“It’s uh”—the red floods into his cheeks—“it’s Great Explosion Murder God, Dynamight…”

“I know,” you groan, laughing. “Should’ve gone with Hot-shot!”

“C’mon, you should’ve known it was always gonna be Dynamight. ‘Cause I’m—“

“Dynamite in bed?” You bite your bottom lip, holding in the snarky snicker that’s bound to come out at some point. Rather than reacting abrasively like you expect him to, Bakugou’s eyelids grow heavy. Lust-blown pupils flick down to those lips, then back up to your eyes. “But we both know you have a pretty…hot shot.”

He opens his mouth to speak—to say anything, maybe something equally flirtatious, but a cocky grin and a ‘you know it, princess’ doesn't fit here. It doesn’t hurt you. And in a way, he wants to hurt you. There’s been a dull ache in his chest ever since the day you left, and now you’re sitting here flirting with him like nothing ever happened between the two of you. Would you be doing the same thing to another guy if it hadn't been Bakugou to approach you tonight? That shit isn’t fair.

You should hurt, he decides then and there. You should hurt just like he does.

“I still have the ring,” he says, a low murmur. He averts his gaze and thinks about what he just admitted. He doesn’t want to believe that it’s the wrong move. He doesn’t want to believe that it won’t get to you.

Despite the fact that his gravelly tone strikes at a nerve, you bark out a laugh. “Don’t tell me you wear it around your neck!”

“No.” He shuts that down immediately, but the greater flush that crowds his cheeks hints at a lie.

“Oh, really?” Unceremoniously, you reach out to touch his chest. His hot chest. He’s always been…so warm. Comforting. But you don’t dwell on that. You don’t think about the nights you spent pressed up against that same warmth, or how cozy you’d felt when he would wrap his strong protective arms around you. You don’t think about how happy you used to be. Instead, you yank on the chain that’s undoubtedly tucked against the tight polyester fabric of his hero suit. Your heart falls into your stomach when you see that it’s just some bullshit talisman.

“Could’ve had me fooled,” you say, but it’s more like a thought spoken aloud. Idly, you play with his chain, twirling and untwirling it around your fingers, wondering what you would’ve done, how you would’ve felt if it’d really been the ring he kept close to his heart. Finally, you ask, “why’d you keep it?”

“Because it meant something.”

Meant. Past tense. It would’ve gotten to you if he hadn’t already said that his future is your future.

“Even after I threw it at your head?” You ask, recalling your shining moment. You’d managed to hit him square in the nose with that ring, right before fleeing out the door. Take it back, you’d said. I’ll never want to have anything to do with it or you ever again.

“Even then. Do you remember what I said to you when I proposed?”

“I never thought you’d be so sentimental.” Ignoring the question, you move your hands from his chest to up his neck, then back down towards his pecks, you feel his blush spread down his body as your fingers tip-toe across his skin. There’s a shaky exhale when you spread your palm across his left breast. His heart thumps against your hands, making your own heart give out a tight squeeze. “So, what do you do with it? Gaze at it fondly? Keep it as a reminder that there are crazy bitches in this world? Or are you saving it for the right girl?”

“I already found the right girl,” Bakugou hisses. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pry you off of him. Instead, he guides your hand around so your fingertips caress his chest in the same patterns you used to. When he drops his hand, you don’t stop touching him.

“Oh dear!” You feign surprise—or maybe it’s not a facade at all. It’s definitely caught you off guard. You didn’t actually assume he’d use the same ring that had been yours to propose to any other person. And you definitely never thought he’d let another person touch him when he’s spoken for. Floozy. “I had no idea you were dating anybody. Where is she tonight?”

Bakugou tsks. “She walked out on me about four years ago.”

There’s a flash in your eyes, but it’s gone in less than a second. It’s driving Bakugou batshit. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants to know what you’re feeling. He wants to know why you have this stupid fucking wall up.

“I said you were my whole fucking world,” he says, tone harsh and too serious. You can tell that he’s answering his own question. Do you remember what I said to you when I proposed? Of course you do. You don’t want to, but he’s not giving you any other choice. “Said I couldn’t picture my life without you. Said that you’d make me the happiest man alive if you stayed by my side forever.”

You’re silent for a long while. All you do is touch him, noting his growth, admiring the layers of muscle that line his arms while your fingertips trickle down to his elbow. Then, very slowly, you pull your hand away, stand, and say, “I think you and I are playing vastly different games tonight, Katsuki Bakugou.”

“What are you saying?” He asks, dreading the feeling that you’re about to leave him. Again.

Shaking your head, you say, “believe it or not, I didn’t put these heels on to have a pleasant conversation with somebody I used to know.”

“So, what?” Bakugou burns. Four years is a long time. He can’t believe you’ve changed this much. The girl that he loved—loves still has to be in there. You’re not invincible, even if you try to be. “If I had a hand up your dress, would you stay here longer?”

“Well, not here,” you say with a pointed nod to the bartender. “I have a room.” You move so that your breasts press against his side, your lips against his ear. His warmth pushes into you like an old friend giving you a hug after a long time away. You ignore it, moving a hand to the nape of his neck, toying his hair like you know he used to love. “We can go there now,” you whisper lowly, enjoying the bob in his Adam’s apple. “We can forget about the past and enjoy tonight.”

This is all fake. He doesn’t know what it is, but you simply can’t see him and not think about the past the two of you shared. You’re not invincible, he thinks again.

“No,” he says with some finality. “I don’t want to.”

Stepping away from him, you jut your chin up at him in some sort of defiant gesture. And that’s all you give him before you start walking towards the elevators. But he doesn’t care for that shit at all, and rather than watch you leave without a proper goodbye, he grabs onto your hand, pulling you back to him.

“Why’d you leave?” He demands, grip vice. You glare at his hands, but he doesn’t let up. “Why didn’t you ever call me?!”

“You didn’t chase after me!” you spit, words like venom. “I ran away and that was all she wrote!”

“I did!” Bakugou admits. “But Jesus, woman, you ever think to give a guy some time after you throw the symbol of his love in his face?! I was fucking devastated, and by the time I finally realized you were really leaving, you were nowhere in sight!”

“Let go!” You say, pulling at your arm with little success.

“I looked everywhere for you,” Bakugou growls, bringing you closer. He wants you to see the desperation in his eyes, feel the desolation he’s felt for four-fucking-years. “I went to your friends, your family. Nobody knew where you were. I’d search the streets day and night! I put posters up! Ads on TV! People thought you were dead! But shame on me, I didn’t go to places like fucking Thailand or South Korea!”

“Katsuki-“ you start, a warning.

“But I would’ve,” he rasps, voice on the edge of breaking. “God knows I fucking would’ve if I’d known you were there. I would’ve found you, begged you to come back. And you know I wouldn’t do that shit for anybody else! I would’ve done anything for you! If only you’d been patient!”

“Well!” You scoff. “That’s one thing about me that hasn’t changed!” You manage to pry your arm away from him and slam your finger on the elevator’s ‘up’ button. It dings immediately, as if it has been waiting for you. Offering Bakugou nothing else besides a scathing glare, you step in. “I have no patience for you.”

The already small elevator seems to shrink when Bakugou steps in. He’s always been this all-consuming presence, but it’s worse now with his size and age. He steps in, and you have no other choice but to back up against the wall.

The air is thick, permeating with tension. The tear trickling down your cheek isn’t left unnoticed. Bakugou raises a hand to wipe it away, but you grab the edge of his gauntlet, stopping him from touching you. He begins to say your name, but he’s cut off by your growl.

“I’m done talking!”

Then fuck it. He won’t talk. He doesn’t have to say anything as long as he can continue seeing you. You, with your wild eyes, and the scowl lacing your brows together. Your bratty face. He’s fond of it. Mostly because your bratty face would always be the facilitator he’d need to crush his lips against yours, turning your sour mood into something else.

So that’s exactly what he does.

One gauntlet falls to the floor before he wraps one of his arms around your waist. He yanks you up against his body, then with the sheer force of his kiss, pushes you back against the elevator wall. You groan into the kiss, and whether it’s from the ferocity of your back hitting the wall, or because you’ve been wanting to do this all night doesn’t matter to Bakugou. He kisses you like he’s starving for it. Hell, he probably is starving for it. It’s been four fucking years since he’s had the pleasure of having his tongue groove against yours. He’s missed the sweetness of your breath, the gentleness of your sigh.

When he pulls away, you pepper kisses along his jaw, down to his neck. While you nibble on his skin, making cute mewling noises when you suck a spot until it’s dark, Bakugou uses his teeth to rid himself of his gloves. If he’s going to touch you, he’s going to touch you. Feel you. Caress you. His skin against yours.

He’s been staring at your legs all damn night, so when he finally gets to press his palms against the meat of your thigh, his cock jumps to attention. Hot and smooth, begging to be groped. He moves his hand up your thigh and is at once delighted and pissed to find that you’re not wearing any panties. When his hand finds your ass, he gives it a tight squeeze and growls, “so this is what you’ve become. Some kind of slut?”

You toss your head back and laugh while your hands reach down to unbuckle his utility belt. “Only if you treat me like one,” you say after his pants drop. Alert, his cock springs out when you tug his boxer-briefs down. You rub your finger over his cockhead, sliding the bead of precum that undoubtedly seeped out down his girth. You squeeze his length and watch his lips turn up into a snarl. Ignoring him, you begin to stroke him, enjoying the throb you feel against your palms.

This is just a tease, because really, you’re only testing the waters, seeing how hard he’s gotten for you. You don’t touch him for him; you touch him for you. Bakugou won’t stand for that shit at all.

He’ll allow himself to be selfish right now. Only in this elevator. Inwardly, he promises to make it up to you, but for now, he grabs your hand and pins it against the wall. His free hand slides back down your leg, smoothing over the goosebumps that appear, then he lifts it up, exposes your core. Sliding his shaft against your slick, he offers nothing but his classic cocky grin, and drives himself into you.

A moan tears out of your throat, your pussy squeezing at the intrusion. Bakugou’s met with only a little resistance. He hasn’t fucked you in a good, long while, and he won’t allow himself to believe that you’ve found anyone as big as he is, so you’re not yet used to his shape. Not like before. Your tightness makes him hiss through his teeth, the edges of his vision blurring.

“God damn it,” he groans as he fills you up. Your unforgiving walls nearly suffocate him while he slowly begins to stretch you out. You’re trying to laugh, but it only comes out in a husky sigh. You try again, but when Bakugou buries his face in the junction of your neck, licking your salty skin, you can only coo.

“Ah! Katsuki!”

“Since you wanna pretend like we don’t know each other,” Bakugou begins, snapping his hips forward to elicit more of those sweet pathetic noises, “you can call me Dynamight.”

“Mmmm, Hot-shot!”

Brat. Bakugou bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulders, and you wail. Pain mixes with pleasure, making your body buzz, and he hasn’t even touched your clit. Fuck, you’ll never admit this aloud, but he doesn’t need to. Your body responds to him like it hasn’t for anybody else, and you want to kick yourself enjoying this brutal form of lovemaking. He’s never been cocky for nothing.

The elevator dings when you land on your floor. Bakugou is quick to slam on the ‘close’ button, never breaking out of his relentless rhythm. He’s fucking you raw, you realize a moment too late, and the thought makes your cunt clamp down on the bastard.

“Fuck,” he groans, right as white hot cum explodes inside of you, lining your pulsing walls. He doesn’t stop pumping though. Instead, he looks at you with an expression so intense, so vehement that you actually shudder. Then, he kisses you, and it’s not any softer than before. This kiss is a claim, an assertion. He’s telling you that tonight, you’re his, and he leaves very little room for you to object.

When he finally pulls out and allows you to fix yourself, he picks his gauntlet up off the floor, and asks, “where the hell is your room?”

The two of you move quickly—you, because Bakugou’s fucking jizz is leaking down your thigh, and him, because he needs to touch more of you. He needs to see more of you.

While you fiddle with your keycard, he’s behind you, kissing the nape of your neck, your shoulder blade. He snakes his arm around your waist, and grabs the uncooperating card away, slides it with ease, and guides you into the room. There’s not another second to spare before he’s tearing down your zipper, pulling your dress down, and ogling your beautiful fucking body.

There are a pair of handcuffs on your nightstand, and when he questions you about them, making a provocative suggestion, you shut it down.

“Those are for when I don’t want to be touched,” you say, and though the thought of you having another man bound to the bed claws at his back, when you say, “I want you to touch me”—he immediately forgets about them.

Aside from the clanking of all of Bakugou’s hero gear falling to the floor, it’s silent while you both hurry to undress each other. He tells you to keep the heels on when he pushes you onto the bed.

“They make you look like a hooker,” he snarks as he pushes your thighs apart.

“Well, your mask is stupid,” you weakly retaliate.

“You always said you thought the mask was sexy,” he shoots back before his tongue slides up your thighs. God damn him for being so hot, all muscles and couldn’t-care-less attitude. This should make hating him easier, but it doesn’t. When you run your hands through the soft spikes of his hair, you remember how he used to soothe you all those times you’ve cried. You remember him letting you pet his hair when you’d start to cheer up. For years, you’ve tried to forget. For years, you’ve tried to hate. As hard as you try, you can’t.

“Sexy…stupid,” you murmur, “same difference.”

Is. Was.

Shame and guilt twist in your stomach while Bakugou gives you pussy little kitten licks. He’s taking his sweet ass time, savoring you as long as he can since he hasn’t tasted you in fucking ages. His tongue dances over your clit, and your hips buck against his face.

“God…Kat, go easy. I’m…really sensitive right now…”

“Oh, yeah?” Bakugou looks up with a smug victorious grin when he sees your frazzled state. His fingers prod your entrance, and he licks his lips as he watches more of himself leak out of that tight little hole. “Afraid I might hurt you, princess? ‘Fraid I might eat you so good you’ll never want another man’s tongue on your perfect fucking cunt?”

He slides his tongue up and down your slit, only to stop to suck your clit, nibble on your lips. His fingers take on a slow coaxing movement. They rub against that spongey spot they’ve been craving to pet all night long. You writhe underneath him, muttering the same thing over and over again. Please, Kat. Please.

“Aww, baby, whatsamatter?” He asks with faux concern, right before placing an opened mouth kiss at your entrance. He tastes you. He tastes himself. And he fucking loves it. So much, in fact, that he can’t stop his tongue from moving around you, washing over you until you’re good and trembling.

The build to your release isn’t a quick one. Rather, it’s something the two of you have been working on since he’d first laid eyes on you. You’d known he was fucking you with his eyes, even when he insisted on catching up first. Now that you think you might want something else, even though you know you shouldn’t, that build-up crashes down with violent retaliation. Your body arches, your hands fisting into Bakugou’s hair, and his confident groans against your pussy making your orgasm hit even harder.

After your ass falls back into the mattress, and you’re stuck there, panting and embarrassed, Bakugou croons, “fucking hell, princess.” He wipes his mouth on his arms before leaning over you. “That was fast.”

“I told you,” you pant, thankful that the lights are out so he can’t see just how embarrassed you are, “I’m really sensitive right now.”

“Didn’t think you meant that sensitive.” He pulls you up so that your back sits flush against his chest. He nuzzles his nose into the back of your head while you very subtly wipe a tear off on the mattress. Memories from your past come flooding back to you. You try to suppress them, but when he forces you on the back, and he towers over you, you can see that he, too, has a storm in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. But he does kiss you, and this time, he is softer. Languid strokes of his tongue coax your mouth to part, and now when he touches you, they are loving caresses, little squeezes of affirmation. For only a moment, he’s able to forget the anguish you’ve put him through. However, when the tears that fall from his face mix in with yours, one of his heartstrings snaps, and he can’t stop himself from slamming his fist down on the mattress, letting out a tiny explosion.

“Bitch,” he croaks.

“I know.”

Neither of you stop crying until he’s inside of you again. Then he’s rough and cocky and more-or-less himself. He says things like, “you better not be getting tired yet. I’m just getting started,” and, “I’m gonna ruin this pretty pussy for any other man”—while you oblige him as much and for as long as you can.

The two of you spend hours making up for lost time, though it will never be enough. You’re singing the regret duet until the both of you are wiped out, falling into one another’s embrace. He holds you tightly until he starts to snooze. He holds you in a way that suggests he’s afraid that if he lifts a finger, you’ll float away. The only floating you do, however, is in your head when you walk about the room to do a little cleaning up, until you crawl back into bed with your ex-fiancé who’s none the wiser.

During the blackest part of the night, the hotel begins to shake. Bakugou is the first to wake, or he would be if you’d ever fallen asleep. He’s groggy and exhausted, murmuring questions, while you shush him, holding onto his arm to suggest that you’re scared. Another blast, a bigger one, completely snaps Bakugou out of his sleep stupor.

The informant hadn’t been wrong about some hotel heist.

He curses and rushes out of bed. His pants are the easiest to find, but he yells for his gauntlets. You pull the covers around your neck and glare.

“Don’t,” you say when he finally looks at you. “Don’t go.”

Bakugou gives you an incredulous expression, then his heart softens a bit when he sees that there are still tears in your eyes.

“This isn’t like that.” His voice still crackly with sleep. He moves over to your side of the bed, dipping down to his knees to say, “I’m not choosing my job. I’m going to be back.”

“You are,” you accuse, balling your hands into fists to stop from shaking. I need to do this, you tell yourself. “It’ll always be like this. I knew it, I just thought…”

“You’re wrong,” he growls. “Please, princess, if there’s a chance that we can start over, if we can be together, I swear on my goddamn life, you will be my top priority. But people’s lives could be at stake right now. I need to do my job.”

You shake your head. “It’ll be just like before.”

“Can we please talk about this when I get back. Baby, I”—he pulls back the covers in hopes to grab your hand, to beg you to give him a fucking chance, but then he freezes—“why are you wearing clothes?”

“Katsuki,” you breathe, more tears falling down your cheeks. You reach up to place the palm of your hand against his cheek, then guide him closer. “Kiss me,” you say, “just kiss me.”

He does as he’s told, still very aware of the calamity he hears downstairs. He needs to get down there, but, as awful as it is, he can’t just leave you thinking he won’t do everything in his power to have you and keep you in his arms. So, he kisses you, one long passionate goodbye to hold you over until he gets back. He’ll make it up to you in every way that he can.

This’ll be a quickie, he thinks, buncha sore hotel robbers. Easy peasy.

He stays confident until he hears the click. Then he feels the cool smoothness of metal tightening around his wrist. He’s only confused for five seconds, and those five seconds are the time it takes for you to spring out of bed, moving as far away from him as possible.

“This was fun,” you say, gathering a bag, as well as some other bullshit he should have seen when he first got into the room, “great catching up with you, Hot-shot!”

“You,” he begins to say, anguish and betrayal drying his throat. It really is sad. If you hadn’t been sure he would blast you to space, you would’ve given him a farewell kiss. But you’re not an idiot, so you say no more and hurry out the door.

You take the stairs, not only because it’ll get you out of the building faster, but if Bakugou finds his gauntlets, you know he’ll be barreling down with you. You hadn’t hid them in a tough spot, though we wish you had, because in a matter of melts you hear the sound of the top story door blasting off, and Bakugou’s incessant yelling. Some things never change.

But you’ve been given a good enough headstart, so when you’re running through the lobby, Bakugou is a long distance away. You have enough time to find the truck that’s blown a hole in the side of the building, and hoist yourself up with the rest of your team, along with the important shit that they took.

Bakugou erupts into the lobby, and spots you immediately, meters away. You’re inside a cargo truck, and next to you is some crusty-looking man wearing an ugly ass jacket. The man sneers at Bakugou before wrapping an arm around your waist. He’s about to blast this jagoff to hell, when said jagoff points at the reception desk. There are four or five attendants bundled near it, each with their hands covering their necks, shaking. A green blast erupts from above, and the light fixtures hanging around come barreling down. Bakugou has no choice but to leap in to save them, blowing the lights away with one strong blast. Glass and debris cut at his face, which is exactly why should always wear his ‘stupid’ mask.

He’ll mention that the next time he sees you. There will have to be a next time, because someone on your truck must have some kind of portal quirk. You’re blowing him a kiss while the truck, now too far away, drives into an unknown location.

He kicks at some plaster before going to check to see if everyone is okay. Nobody had been seriously injured, thank fuck.

Bakugou would call himself an idiot, but that would be an understatement. He’s not going to waste his energy on feeling sorry for himself. As soon as he’s able to clear the hotel, he’s gonna get to work. Because he’d meant it when he’d said his future is your future. He’s going to find you. And when he does, you won’t slip away. The two of you are destined to meet again. To be together. He’d seen it in your tears. And he’d learned his lesson. He’d already lost you once. He’s not going to lose you again.

[luimagines]

Hi! I have a request, but first i wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! The length + amount of time you put into these prompts is insanely good. Now! Onto the request, how would the boys react to a reader from a more modern era? Maybe a more modernized hyrule or our current point in time?

Masterlist

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm happy to see the response even if this blog is still relatively new.

I hope I do your prompt justice.

I probably could have done a headcanon list but I was hit with inspiration.

I also might have given Reader some backstory.

Scenario below the cut! It’s long, take caution.

It was a cool night, but you didn't mind. Your bed was warm, the WiFi was fast and even if it was three AM on a school night, you managed to keep yourself giggling with cat videos and blursed memes until the words and colors merged.

A night well spent.

But it led to questionable decisions.

Even if the shredded cheese in the fridge was beginning to seem a more and more enticing snack, your body was tempted to succumb to slumber.

Until a large purple light encompassed the entirety of your window.

Something was in your backyard.

Aliens. Your tired brain supplies and you sprint to the glass and push away the curtains. Is this it? Is this where I'm kidnapped and never seen or heard from again?

You pull out your phone and open up the camera.

"Pics or it didn't happen." You remind yourself and snap a few before showing your face.

What you see isn't what you're expecting. Instead of a flying saucer in the sky beaming down a laser or a weird pear shaped space craft on top of the grass, there's a single panel of glowing light, swirling with black accents that creeps in a circular motion.

"Cheese and crackers...." You gasp and begin to blatantly stare at it with no regard to whether something may be coming out of it.

You wait and nothing happens.

You wait some more and nothing happens.

You spend an hour watching this portal that has appeared out of nowhere, waiting for something to happen, willing for something to happen. But you get nothing.

The unknown stares right back at you, unblinking and unchanged.

Go through it. A voice tells you. What if there's something on the other side?

"I'm going to die." You gulp and take a deep breath.

Who else gets a chance like this? The voice talks again. This could be a grand step towards a more modern society. A whole new world could be on the other side, waiting, reaching out, calling to humanity!

You think you a see a shadow move behind the portal and out of sight but it’s gone before you can even process it.

"Should I call the police?" You step away from the window, ignoring the thoughts, the voice- you're too tired to know if it's your own any more. What's the plan? How does one go about something like this?

Where’s your sense of adventure? Pack a bag and go! What if it goes away?

That last thought seems to get through to your tired brain and for a reason beyond your understanding, it latches onto it.

Now you’re excited.

You run to the closet and take out your old backpack. It used to be for school but it was fancier since it was the only one you could get. The bag had a replaceable water bag with a plastic straw connected through the back of it and the straps have just worn down enough to where they’re actually comfortable. It doubled as a hiking backpack and came with its own insulated lunch box that clasped on the back of it.

It’ll finally serve its purpose.

You quickly roll up your favorite blanket and strap it in tightly beneath the lunch box. You’re quick to take out two extra outfits and pack them as well as change out of your pajamas.

Ok. What would you need? You don’t know where you’d be going so this has to a catch all kind of deal.

You pack away your swiss army knife first for good measure. A solar powered charger for your phone and an extra pair of socks follow suit even after you’ve picked out the extra clothes.

You take out the water bag and run to fill it all the way to max capacity as you think of any other necessities.

You’d need food. You have a small jar of peanut butter and granola bars that can fit in the lunch box. You can bring your extra water bottle and put in the side pockets of the backpack, and maybe bring some of those powered flavor packets your brother loves so much. You think he has lemonade and some green tea ones.

Those would be great. He won’t mind, hopefully.

You let the bag overfill momentarily before running back to shove it in your bag. with the lid screwed tight.

Next you run to the kitchen, grabbing the first things that you thought of already and begin to look around for more.

You grab an unopened pack of beef jerky, a bag of veggie sticks and a half eaten bag of dried mangos.

During your search you grab the water bottle and fill that too.

You return to your room with your bounty and begin to carefully put everything in the box. With some more deliberation, you run back to the kitchen and make yourself a quick sandwich, eat it, make another one and pack that as well.

You look out side the window and the portal is still there.

The sun is beginning to rise now so you’re trying to go as fast as you can, unless you want to neighbors to think something is going on.

Even if it is.

You’re about to leave but in a stroke of brilliance, you run to pack sunscreen and bug spray as well. You see a small first aid pack that was bought recently for when you would take your family vacation but you reason that it might one of the most important things you’d have if you got hurt.

Into the bag it goes.

You grab your hoodie before you leave the door, wrap it around your waist and pocket your phone, your headphones and your wallet.

You feel immediately under packed when you step outside and see the portal up close.

It’s weirdly triangle shaped, you think and step closer.

You reach your hand out and try to touch it. It feels as if you put your hand through a humidifier but it’s not wet. It’s misty and cold but not necessarily unpleasant.

An idea hits you right before you take your first step through.

You pull up one of the earlier photo’s you took and send it to your friend’s group chat. It showed up in my backyard. I decided to make a bad late night decision and I’m going through. If you never hear from me again, I want you all to fight over my electronics. Winner takes all. Godspeed.

And you step through.

You had first assumed that it would merely take you tot he other side but very quickly realize that you have to walk through it.

The first part still had a little light but with time, it got darker. So dark that you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

You kept walking.

As fast as the light disappeared, it came back and you stepped into the light of an open field, right in front of one, two, three, four, nine males that had appeared to be traveling towards you or rather, towards the portal.

The portal disappears in the process.

“Oh so we didn’t have to go through it! We had to gain another member!” One of them yells. “Would have been nice to know before we packed everything up!”

“Ho boy, where am I?” You ask and tighten your grip on your backpack. Why didn’t I bring a weapon?

They all had long tunics and swords on their backs. Old fashioned leather boots and hand bracers were the norm in this group and you realized very quickly that your jeans and t-shirt had wildly missed the memo.

“Dang, I didn’t think I’d walk into a LARP group. Sorry about that.” You sheepishly smile. “I had no idea where the portal was going to take me. But if you would be so kind-”

“Wait, what’s LARP?” One of them speaks up. He was a dirty blond and somewhere in the middle of the group height wise. He wore a white cape like thing with blue designs on the back but you didn’t recognize the symbol.

“Live Action Role Play?” You tilt your head. “It’s why you’re all dressed like that? Right?”

“This is just our clothes.” What appears to be the youngest bounces up to you. “What are you wearing?”

“First I could grab in my closet.” You admit and look down on it. It’s one of your comfiest shirts and best looking pants. You’re a little proud of yourself for finding those in the dark.

“Weird.”

“We’re heroes. We’re all named Link.” Cape guy speaks up again. “Is it safe to assume that you’re in the same boat?”

“Heroes?” Your eyebrows furrow together. “I’m not a hero and my name’s not Link.”

You’re quick to tell them your name and you watch as the confusion covers their faces. “My brother’s name is Link though if that helps anything.”

“Oh we needed him!” The youngest groans and it instantly irks you.

“What would you need with a five year old?” You deadpan and cross your arms. 

The information stuns the group.

“The portal showed up in the middle of the night and I’m the one that went through it. I’m pretty sure I was the only awake to even see it. Are you telling me that it was for my little brother?” You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little pissed. “My baby brother was supposed to go through it? He was asleep! He’s five. What kind of logic is that?!”

“Well...” The biggest and oldest of them runs a hand over his face. You think he has some cool tattoos and sick scar going across his eye but he looks about as angry as you feel, so you don’t say anything. “It appears the gods truly do not care for the hero’s maturity, only his existence.”

“Ok...What’s with all this hero talk?” You bite back. “What did... Where am I?”

“Hyrule.” The second with cool face tattoos speaks up. He’s got a large fur pelt around his shoulders and you have to tighten your grip against your backpack again to keep from reaching out to touch it.

Even so you feel yourself deadpan even more. “Hyrule? Like the ancient empire? The one that collapsed more than two thousand years ago? That Hyrule?”

You’re inclined to not believe them and write all of them off as crazy... but you also walked through a portal. And your grandma did say that magic existed in the strangest forms.

They all share looks of concern and some begin to murmur quietly amongst themselves but you’re too far gone to even notice.

“Did I time travel?” The idea hits you like a bus and you feel your eyes widen as you stare beyond the group. You quickly take our your phone and unlock it.

No signal.

“Is that a type of Sheikah slate?” Someone asks you.

“I don’t know what that is.” You reply automatically. “Wait, hold on, what year is it?”

“Why don’t you tell us what year you’re from and we can start from there?” The darkest brunette of the group speaks up.

“202x PC” You say robotically, not really processing the world around you anymore.

“That’s...” The blond with a long blue scarf speaks up with a slight hiss. “...Beyond any of our timelines. You see, we all come from different worlds and eras of Hyrule’s history.”

“I don’t think you’re the farthest down anymore, Wild.”

“This would then make them my successor, right?”

“It would make their brother your successor.” Someone amends. “I think they just jumped in his place.”

“Leave my brother alone.” You snap back into the present, pocketing your [hone again. “Ok, you know what, screw it. I don’t know what you’d want my brother for but I’m here now. I’d gladly take his place if it means he gets to stay home!”

“Hey.” A boy with pink hair stalks up to you looking a little more serious than you’d like.

“Nice hair dude, way to defy the gender norms.” You smirk a little before genuinely grinning, hoping to quell the tension. “What product do you use? It looks like Artic Fox but not every place sells their brand.”

“...I have no idea what you’re talking about but what happened to Ganon in your world? How have you been handling it?” He snaps and places his hands on his hips.

“Ganon? Like my old principle? That’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.” You’re confused again. “Last I heard he joined the police force only to be reassigned out of state. I don’t know what’s happening with him. Kinda hope he gets fired though. He’s not a bad guy but he’s not someone you’d want in that kind of position of power, you know.”

“Police force?”

You blinked and look them all over. They look very medieval. “Oh... You don’t have that...”

You begin to think about your history lessons and what they might be familiar with if they’re telling the truth about being from Hyrule.

“Ya’ll got knights?”

Many, almost all of them nod, a few with face of despair already on them before you finish speaking.

“It’s kind of like that. Mixed with a towns guard position... kinda. They enforce laws... at least they’re supposed to but the whole system is flawed and racist and really needs to be dismantled for the abuse of power that they have-”

“Abuse? Of power?” You have their attention again.

“It’s stupid and it won’t really make any sense if I try to explain because I doubt you have anything similar but it’s basically a group of people given the right to treat the public in anyway they like for their own benefit because they have no one telling them that they can’t.” You groan and slowly begin to feel your lack of sleep catch up to you. 

You slowly reach to behind you and sit down on the dirt, looking at all of them. “Mr. Dragmire wasn’t like...Demise or anything but he was a huge jerk. No one liked him. He liked me though. I remember that. I was the envy of the whole school because I somehow got on his good side while everyone else wants to strangle him. I think he was transferred for some misdemeanor or something like that... like he might have been throwing hands with someone he wasn’t supposed to. I never heard all the details. I didn’t really care for it when it happened either. I’m pretty sure he lost that fight though. The dude looked like a blast of wind could have knocked him over let alone someone’s knuckle sandwich.”

“I would love to hear more about this.” The youngest sits next to you with a large grin on his face. His eyes are bright and his body language reminds you of your cousin Zelda. You instantly think they’d get along like a house on fire. “What are your monsters like?”

“Monsters?” You tilt your head. “Be a little more specific bud, it depends on where you’re from.”

“You have that many?!”

“It depends on if you believe they’re real or not.”

“Speaking of monsters, can you fight?” The shortest walks up to you. You like that his tunic is stitched up with multiple colors and designs. It gives it personality, you think. “Do you have a weapon you’re more comfortable with?”

The question throws you off your rhythm and you don’t fight your wince. “What would happen if I say that I do not, in fact, have any sort of weapon on me?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.” Pink guy speaks up again. “That pack is huge, there has to be something in there.”

“It’s food, water and extra clothes my guy.” You lean back against said backpack since it won’t let you lay down with it still on. “Not a lot of space for anything else. I’m pretty good at hand to hand combat though. Karate’s a good way to fight out stress.” 

“Your bag’s not magic?”

“Why the hell would it be magic? ...Are you trying to tell me magic actually exists?” You raise an eyebrow as your eyes begin to close against your will. “I know my grandma said it does but I thought she meant like fairies and shadow demons.. and bigfoot. Can’t forget him, he’s the real MVP... You know...Children’s bedtime stories and stuff like that, it’s not real. But like magic magic? Magic items and the like? Find me Tinkerbell and I’ll show you Neverland, that’s what I say.”

“Are you serious?”

“Second star to the right, straight on till morning.” You respond.

There’s a moment of silence as the group in front of you processes your words. It’s hard to tell their reaction since you’re not looking at them but you no longer have the energy to do anything else.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” It’s the one they called Wild.

“I...” You try to open your eyes. They don’t budge. “I haven’t slept in nearly 20 hours... I think. I might have past 24 hours a while ago actually. Portal showed up at like four in the morning... I had to get up at six and I didn’t sleep at all before then.”

More silence.

“Great another one.” Someone scoffs.

You snort.

“Why did we pack up camp again?”

“No one kill me.” You say right before you lose consciousness. “Please and thank you.”

“They’re doomed.”

“Have some faith Vet. They stepped in for their little brother. That has to mean something?”

“They’re in for a rude awakening, and that’s all I have to say about it.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Normal (Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

I know this is def not my normal content because y’all know I’m a huge Hotch girl, but sometimes I slip back into being a Reid girl. It’s hard not to! I see a lot of myself in him and it led me to write this, so enjoy this (very real, actually) glimpse inside my head in the form of a fluffy Reid story xx.

I listened to “Normal” by AJR a lot while I wrote this!

Summary: Spencer has recently returned to the BAU after a short period of leave, and he comes back to find you, an agent-in-training filling his Resident Genius shoes. He admires you for who you are. You think he hates you. He tries to convince you otherwise.

DR. SPENCER REID MASTERLIST

At first, you thought it was because of the way you read books.

You’ll never forget the first day you met the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid. He had returned from leave for his injured knee (he was shot, you were told) and this was apparently the second time he had attempted to step foot in the office. The first time didn’t go over well when Hotch found Spencer’s file that said his doctor did not clear him for work yet.

Regardless, you were sitting in your desk chair, legs crossed underneath you, “like a human pretzel,” Morgan always teases. You were reading a book, one of your favorites, to pass the time when Spencer walked in.

You knew it instantly because Morgan’s loud and affectionate, “Pretty. Boy!” could be heard all over the BAU.

You didn’t get up from your chair or stop reading -- besides the brief moment when you looked up to see what the commotion was about.

You still remember your internal monologue. Should I get up and hug him like Morgan? No, no, I don’t know him that well. I don’t want to hug anyone today, anyway. Shake his hand? You remember your hand tensing at the mere thought. Okay, not that either. I could wave, but I can’t tell if I even need to. I’ll just keep reading.

You had heard of Spencer before this. Hotch made it abundantly clear to you and the team that you were not replacing Spencer when you joined. You aren’t even officially a member of the BAU yet. You’re on a bit of a trial run, so to speak. That’s how Hotch explained it.

Yes, you were and still are well aware that the timing looks awful. An agent who is vital and loved in the BAU is shot and out of work right as a new, younger, and less experienced but surprisingly intelligent agent steps in for a “trial run” (which no one ever does).

To anyone else, it obviously looks like you were sent here to replace Dr. Reid under the disguise of a short “trial run.”

But that isn’t the case at all.

You thought Spencer didn’t like you because of the way you read books. You immerse yourself in them. You use a pencil to track what line you’re on, so nearly every page has a vertical, light gray line in the margin where the tip of your pencil lead barely grazed the page. You underline keywords and phrases. You draw arrows. You write commentary in the margins.

You thought that was what annoyed him until you saw him highlighting a book and writing in the margins, too. He doesn’t even necessarily need to, especially since he can read so damn fast and remember everything.

That’s also what you suspected -- that he didn’t like you because you could read almost as fast as him.

Keyword here: almost.

You can scan a page and spit the information back out in layman’s terms, sure. But you won’t remember what you read in great detail the next day, sometimes even the next hour -- especially when you were sort of filling the Resident Genius shoes and you’d have to read through stacks of evidence every hour.

You had thought your speed was just another thing Spencer didn’t like because it was just one more thing pointing to the conclusion that you were hired to replace him.

But he doesn’t care. You gladly let him read the evidence and memorize it, but you’ll help him out sometimes by scanning something first to see if it might have what he’s looking for. If it might, then he goes through and catches the fine details.

He’s never once acted as he hates you -- even though you’ve had “friends” who hated your guts and you had no idea (true story: high school is brutal and you were always shocked when your childhood best friend told you how “fake” others were acting toward you). But you’ve tried to look for specific signs, and he shows none of them.

You’re grasping at straws at this point. You’re on a profiling team and you had to Google how to tell if someone hates you. It’s pathetic, truly.

He doesn’t avoid you -- but he also is a really private person like you who likes his time alone.

He doesn’t drop a conversation with you after it’s been started -- but he also rambles so much anyway that you don’t know if he himself is capable of dropping a conversation abruptly.

He doesn’t avoid eye contact with you -- but even that one is tricky because you’re still working on it yourself, and you definitely have some days where you avoid eye contact. Sometimes you can hold it too well, though, and you always wonder if that’s rude.

Going through the rest of the signs that you found on Google goes exactly like that. He hasn’t done it, but then again… There’s always a catch.

It’s exhausting.

It’s a straight week of this before you finally cave and go to the one person you know you can always trust.

“Morgan, does Reid hate me?”

Derek stops stirring his coffee and tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What?” He goes back to stirring before tossing the stick in the trash. “Kiddo, why would he hate you?”

You misread this, too, and think Derek is confirming that Reid has hated you all along. “I don’t know. Why would he? What did I do?”

Morgan pauses, staring at you for a second before he realizes. “Ah, alright. It’s not clicking?”

You and Morgan have this phrase for when things completely fly over your head. “It’s not clicking?” is all he has to ask and all you have to do is nod, and he explains things to you.

So, you nod.

“Okay, listen, he does not hate you,” Morgan says. “I mean that. He’s been struggling to get settled after being out, but he doesn’t hate you. He’s far from hating you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, trust me. He doesn’t hate you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. You do trust Morgan, but somehow his words don’t ease your mind this time. “Should I talk to him about it? Or is that overstepping?” You pause. “I don’t wanna be annoying.”

“Kiddo, you’re never annoying,” Morgan smiles, raising his coffee at you. “I’m serious. And sure, if you think talking to him about it will help, go for it.”

“Okay… How do I ask him?”

Morgan shrugs. “Say you’ve felt like there’s been underlying tension and you want to clear the air.”

“Underlying tension and I want to clear the air. Got it,” you chant to yourself. “Thanks, Morgan!”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Fast forward an hour or two and you finally have enough courage worked up to confront Spencer. The first hour was spent rehearsing what you plan to say and the second was spent rehearsing what you might be asked and what you can say. And finally, you were ready to walk around the set of cubicles to get to Spencer’s.

Spencer looks up when he sees you walking over and he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, Y/N, I just found this really good book about the strategies of--”

“I’ve felt like there’s been a lot of underlying tension between you and me and I wanna clear the air,” you blurt.

Spencer pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you mad at me?” You try again.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Do you hate me?”

“What? No!” Spencer sets his book down on his desk. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

“Oh...okay,” you nod slowly. “That’s...that’s all then.”

As you’re turning around to go back to your, Spencer stands. “Wait, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrows in question. “Oh, right,” you chuckle nervously. “What book did you want to tell me about?”

“Oh,” Spencer looks down at his desk, then shakes his head. “I’ll tell you that later, I wanted to ask first if...if you wanted to get dinner later? There’s a reading downtown for this new poet and I thought you’d like to go.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Yes, I was actually already going, but yeah. We can get dinner.” You mentally rearrange things in your schedule as you speak.

“Okay,” he smiles softly. “Oh, the book. Here, you can--” He pauses and grabs a chair, rolling it over for you.

Derek watches from his desk as the two of you sit down and Reid starts rambling.

+++

You and Spencer leave straight from the BAU to get dinner before the reading.

One thing you’re grateful for that comes with spending time with Spencer is that you never have to worry about conversation. He carries it and if there’s ever a silence, he fills it. Or, like tonight, the two of you enjoy a mutual silence.

You opted for a table outside on the patio because the dinner rush was crowding the restaurant indoors, and it made the lights seem a little too bright. You could feel a headache coming on when Spencer asked if the two of you could sit outside.

It’s a little chilly outside, so you guys are alone, but you’re both always bundled up, so you aren’t cold. Spencer is always in some form of layers and a scarf, and you are, too. Minus the scarf, though, because some days it doesn’t feel right on your neck (and lately it doesn’t). But you’re always in a sweater and a cardigan.

Winter is your favorite season because of this. You can wear as many layers as you need and not suffer from a heatstroke.

After a quiet dinner (that you actually kind of needed, though you didn’t realize it at first), the two of you walk down the street to the small bookstore where the poetry reading is taking place.

“So, you said you were already coming,” Spencer begins.

“Hm?”

“To the poetry reading,” he clarifies.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, unfazed. “Do you read a lot of poetry?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’ve always loved it, I think. I write some, too, but I don’t know how good it is. Probably not very since I’m in the FBI.”

Spencer laughs softly. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Do you write poetry?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Not often, but sometimes.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I like it. Not enough to do it for a living, of course. Actually, I almost got a Masters in Poetry a few years ago.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I can’t imagine being a poet,” he says, slowing his steps as you reach the bookstore. “But I guess that’s why I’m not one.”

You’re not sure what else to say, so you stay quiet while he opens the door for you, gesturing for you to go inside.

Bookstores are your forever safe haven. The quiet stacks, the mutual agreement between everyone inside not to speak to anyone else unless it’s dire. Not to mention, being surrounded by words.

Even events like these are small. Every event you’ve been to, you’ve been one of maybe twenty people attending. It’s your Heaven. It’s the kind of social interaction you’re somewhat good at.

Spencer is surprised when you willingly sit in the front. He would’ve expected you to sit at the back, in the middle row, even, but not the front center. He doesn’t question it, though. He just quietly sits next to you.

You pull the poet’s book out of your bag and it’s a well-worn copy. You flip through the pages and Spencer catches glimpses of underlined words, commentary, everything that lets him know this must be your favorite.

“Do you um…” Spencer pauses, waiting until you tilt your head, showing your attention. “Do you come to readings here often?”

“Every month,” you nod. “It’s a weird routine I’ve had ever since I moved here. I went to readings almost every week in college, and I didn’t want to stop.”

“I don’t come to a lot for poetry,” Spencer says. “Mostly novels -- and mostly conventions for academia-based writings.”

“Those have always scared me,” you chuckle, only half joking.

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, just the idea of hundreds of people crowded in a hall. That kind of thing just isn’t my speed.”

“You know, if it’s too scary to go alone, you’re welcome to come with me,” Spencer offers.

“Okay.”

“There’s one next Friday,” Spencer says. “If we’re not out on a case, we can go together, right after work.”

“Okay, yeah,” you smile. “What time?”

“It starts at 7, so we could leave work at 5:30 and get dinner beforehand.”

You mentally begin piecing next Friday together in your head and you nod, thankful for his mention of specific times. “That sounds good.”

Soon the chairs around you are filled and you recognize a few people who smile at you, so you smile back. Before long, the manager of the store is stepping up to introduce tonight’s poet, and Spencer watches you eagerly crack open their book.

+++

Somehow, spending time with Spencer has gotten worked into your routine.

You go with him to academic readings, and he comes with you to your poetry ones. The two of you have dinner together most nights because it’s your routine to eat right after work, and most of the time he’s already rambling about something to you when 5 o’clock hits and you begin packing up your stuff.

Tonight is no different, only this time when you’re walking next to Spencer to the bookstore for another poetry reading, he fills the silence.

“Can I tell you something?”

You pause, but nod anyway, wondering why Spencer is asking this time when he hasn’t before -- not that you can recall.

Spencer takes a deep breath. “I know you thought I hated you, and honestly when you told me that, I couldn’t believe it. Because I don’t hate you and I never have. I...I like you a lot, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you let out a breathy chuckle. “I like you too, Spencer. I’m glad you don’t hate me and thanks for saying it again. Sometimes I need the reminder.”

He chews on his lower lip as he listens to you, and it’s obvious you didn’t catch what he is really trying to say. “Y/N, I mean...I like you. I have feelings for you -- romantic feelings,” he clarifies, watching your face intently. 

You’ve never made the most facial expressions, but when you do, they can be exaggerated. Which is what happens now.

Your eyes widen and you make what looks like a grimace with your lower lip. “I’m sorry,” you say, scrunching your nose. “Have these…have these all been dates?”

Spencer shrugs. “Only if you want them to be. I just like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too,” you smile softly. “You don’t hate me for not realizing, do you?”

“Of course not,” he laughs. “But I wanted to tell you because I like being honest with you and...if you feel the same, then...we can go from there, but if not, it’s okay. Like I said, I like spending time with you.”

“I do feel the same,” you blurt. “At least, I think I do. I don’t know. I might need to think, but I know I’m interested and...and I know I really like spending time with you.”

Spencer smiles. “Okay, uh...do you-- Can I hold your hand? Is that okay?”

You can’t help the smile that crawls onto your face in that moment, and you nod.

Spencer stretches out his hand and you take yours out of your pocket, hissing through your teeth for a moment at the cold air, but when Spencer’s fingers tangle with yours, you feel better.

Everything feels better when you’re with Spencer.

[sylvie-writes]

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine. 

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny. 

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature. 

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather. 

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache. 

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals. 

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.” 

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness. 

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal. 

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon. 

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant. 

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home. 

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 At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last. 

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was. 

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke. 

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness. 

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber. 

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Lunch break at last. 

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest. 

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course. 

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible. 

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty. 

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them. 

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance. 

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven. 

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“Babe, dinner is ready!” 

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten. 

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister. 

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain. 

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple. 

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for. 

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially. 

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more. 

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.” 

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.” 

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt. 

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“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed. 

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you. 

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture. 

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips. 

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” 

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair. 

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made. 

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair. 

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor. 

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand. 

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison. 

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help. 

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages. 

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look. 

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you. 

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own. 

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis. 

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk. 

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague. 

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat. 

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes. 

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on. 

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose. 

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors. 

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Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer. 

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

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For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak. 

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions. 

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.” 

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure. 

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room. 

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve. 

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!” 

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.” 

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.” 

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued. 

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face. 

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand. 

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”  

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze. 

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.” 

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him. 

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.” 

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!” 

He really was too good for this world. 

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a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

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