#cw assisted dying
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bharv · 1 month ago
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Spent most of the evening discussing the passing of the assisted dying bill in the UK with close friends and family.
It’s impossibly knotty and emotional and I have mixed feelings but at the heart of it I cannot, and I don’t think you can, divide it from the reality of disability rights.
We are in a place where people’s rights are so closely linked to their ability to be productive under capitalism. Mental health support is in turmoil, care is chronically underfunded. How can we guarantee that this is always the choice of the individual? If they are facing a huge life change, they might be afraid and concerned about being a burden - but what if they’re not? What if when they start their care journey, there’s a different way of life to live, but they’ll never know if they bow to a pressure which I think WILL build in society with this bill.
My closest friend is a carer for her mum, and she is against it, and she worries for all of the people whose children aren’t that close to them whose lives will be in the hands of those who might make an economic choice over an ethical one, whether it’s what they want or what they’re pressured into choosing.
I get the right to die with dignity, I really do, and emotionally I support it. I get trying to protect families from being charged. But I just don’t know that we as a society can do this ethically, where we are, and I’m afraid for what this means as somebody with long term health conditions.
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connecting-the-stars · 6 months ago
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I’m having thoughts! A shocker I know!
Thinking about drafting a dabble with @deniigi “Pumpkin Spice Latte flavors of Codywan”
Particularly: Posh!Obi-wan and Secret Chaos Element!Cody
Follows Cody and Obi-Wan through the Clone Wars as they attempt to live up to the expectations of their titles. Cody’s vehement distrust of the generals in charge of the war and Obi-wan’s aloof and flirty mask that covers his heart of gold, Obi-wan looking to make a bridge and peel back the onion layers that are the Commander and Cody looking to make an itemized list of weaknesses for contingency plans and rationalize the irrational actions of the Jedi. With each battle and death toll, they size the other up finding more than either of them signed up for. It’s about faith, trust, and humility.
It’s grown to include more crack than i had expected and I kind of love that. Though, I had spun the original concept with a darker tone that focused on the burdens of titles and enduring the galaxy when war steers the entirely of your life. Also a big helping of Propaganda and Jedi regarded as Untouchable Myths by the public. And Cody and his brothers struggles to see themselves as more than weapons when their lives are shackled to their blasters and grenades, confined into the neat boxes the Kaminoans designed.
I keep backpedaling though, because I’m really fond of the ideas I’ve conjured for crack and humor, but I am still unable to let go on the darker tone and an exploration of personhood/burdens of expectations.
In my head I feel like it’s too tonally jarring. But on the opposite side, I’ve read a handful of great fics that are so enjoyable because they balance humor and darker themes. (Literally listened to a pod fic till 4am because of the crack treated seriously and dark topics: CHTHONIC by catboydogma highly recommend)
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bluejaysfeathers · 1 year ago
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Okay but fr I did used to terrify my chemistry teachers by asking them what various dangerous chemicals would hypothetically taste like if you were to eat/drink them (I wasn’t GONNA I just needed to Know) so like I get the impulse of “damn I wonder what Death tastes like”
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at the euthanasia party everyone gets a sip of the forbidden lean
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unconventional-lawnchair · 5 months ago
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Invisible: Hermione x Reader {Blurb}
WolfStar!Slytherin!werewolf!Reader x Hermione
Masterlist
Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff
Cw: Use of {Y/N}, reader is a bit of a mess, insults, Hermione hit the reader a few times (please reach out if I missed something}
Wc- 2199
{Y/N} Lupin had never been invisible. Even on days you tried to be, the whispers and eyes still followed you through the halls. See, you were a bit too much like your father, Sirius. You styled like him. Every weekend, his old leather jacket, hair dyed a deep jet black, nails to match. Minnie would say you had the attitude, more in for a thrill then the consequence. Snape would say your grades were like his as well, just enough to pass and just engaged enough to not be called out. Not that you didn't relish in the attention and laughs you got when a teacher tried to reprimand you, and a very Sirius-like comment or two later, the classroom was full of snickering juveniles and you had one more detention on your record. A record, your father, for the life of him, couldn't tell you what it was for. He got an amazing job as an Auror straight out of school despite it all. If that wouldn't usually keep people a good distance away from you, you had the mind of your dad. Methodical and exact, Remus gifted you a weapon no one could quite match. Well.. until you met her.
Hermione Granger.
You see, nothing good could come of a troublemaker, unless they were a Gryffindor. If your reputation wasn't enough, your rule of kiss and tell would be. You were quite popular with the girls and guys of your year. You knew what they wanted and you entertained it. You understood who you were, a Slytherin, a delinquent, someone so bad yet irresistible. No one stayed later than a week or two, you never blamed them. When they got to know you, when they knew you weren't some fantasy written heart throb, their interest was lost. 
You liked to pretend it didn't hurt. It was good fun now and again, but every time someone stopped coming around you were reminded just what it was. Just the perfect amount of hurt and vulnerability for the next one when they came round. Your coping mechanism was the same thing hurting you, and you became cruel about it. 
You spent most of your days with Theodore Nott, a boy with much the same reputation. Complaining to each other just to fill the silence. If your parents knew you associated with the boy, there would be a riot. A Death Eater’s son, someone you trusted more with the secrets of your heart than your own father.
“So Snape says I have to stay in this Hogsmeade trip to study. Roped some poor third year into helping me.” You groaned and Theodore snickered at this. “Has the toad even seen your grades?”
“Bloody doubt it.” You huffed and took a drag of your cigarette. “Just hope it's not some brat, you know? Odd I have to study with someone younger.” You mumbled and handed the stick over to Nott, but it was intercepted by a pale delicate hand. 
Some girl, maybe only 14 years old, snatched the bud from your hand and dropped it on the cobbled floor. Stepping on it with a huff. She turned to you with a vicious smile. “How very kind of you for being early. Names Granger. Hermione Granger.” She held her hand out and you looked her up and down in annoyance. 
“Don't tell me you're the person who is supposed to assist me.” You scoffed and she smiled brightly. Clearly there was some hidden malice there. You were shocked a Gryffindor of all houses had chosen to throw away her weekend to 'help’ you. 
You huffed and took her hand, shaking it firm before she walked past you. You apologized to Theodore and began to follow her. 
That's how the unlikely dynamic began. That day you did everything in your power to get under her skin, and she yours. You would flirt with her, make crude jokes, ignore the work at any cost. She would badger you with questions you were sure the little lion didn't even know herself.
Your goal was to get her to leave you alone. But she refused.
Every time you were forced to detention study, there she was. It was like torture. You wanted to curse Snape’s very existence, but also thank him on your hands and knees for the opportunity. In normal circumstances, you would never have been able to even talk to Granger. She was so wrapped up in Harry -the chosen one- Potter and Ron -just stop whining- Weasley, you didn't even think about her much. 
That was your downfall, of course. You don't think of yourself as someone to fall, especially for an underclassman, but Merlin she was magnetic. Just enough sass and spunk, a bit of a smart ass but it left you wanting more. You tested the water a few times, but when Summer came around and you were sent home to your dads, you didn't send a letter, neither did she.
You and Hermione’s relationship was purely for studying. You knew there were people in your life that were made for certain times, and Hermione was made for quiet library rendezvous. For whispered flirts and cheeky comments between paragraphs. For daunting questions and electric praise. You just wished you could spend all year between those book pages, knee to knee, pretending nothing outside the library mattered. That you both weren’t helplessly over your heads.
That summer was hell, it felt like you were going through withdrawals. It's likely what it was, considering you wouldn't dream of bringing a smoke into your home. Sirius had a nose for that sort of thing. Though it seemed in your current state all you could think of was the fluffy haired girl. Even when you met some muggles to party with over the summer, even when you met up with some of your wix friends, you had fun but kept thinking about her beautiful eyes. It didn't help that you spent almost every weekend and full moon at the Potter’s, and your aunt Lily behaved so much like Hermione it terrified you. Especially since you were no James Potter.
It was pathetic, you decided. When the next school year came around, you did everything in your power to avoid her. Even getting good grades. Then, like some sick twisted joke, the Yule ball came. Everyone was pairing up and you didn't have the heart to stomach being around Hermione. You knew she wasn't someone to gloat or ramble on about the more feminine things in life, but even if it was just a passing comment you knew you wouldn't be able to take it. Knowing who was going to be whisking her off her feet all night, staring into her playful eyes, getting to see the caged bird fly, when you refused to beg for the key. You knew you weren't worth such a luxury. Hermione Granger was made for people like Krum, a famous Quidditch star, or a boy like Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Even Ron Weasley, a pureblood with a huge family with no real baggage. One that would allow her wings to spread and give her the freedom in her life. 
You caught yourself, thinking with such longing for her was vexing. You never found yourself thinking about forever. Not with anyone, until you met her. What good could you do for her? All you could truly offer was your father’s family’s blood money, your horrid reputation, and your werewolf blood. You knew how the world saw you, considering your father just quit last year because he was one.
When the night came, you and Theodore decided to go together. Most of the night was spent dancing with people who came alone, or each other, even drinking spiked juice when the weird sisters started up. Your eyes locked with Hermione’s, on complete accident. Your breath hitched when you saw her blissful smile turn to a look of hurt and disconnection. Your face fell, whatever joke Nott was on about with the girls you were with went silent on your ears. 
“Hey, man, I need some air.” You muttered to him, still holding Hermione’s eyes. Nott waved you off and you finally broke eye contact and hurried out of the hall.
You grabbed your suit’s coat on the way out. You were wearing a muggle suit, just a white button up, a green vest, black tie, and of course the black coat. You rushed to fix the coat around your sides as you began to turn down the hall. Getting as far away from them as possible.
“Don't you dare!” You heard a shout from behind you. You turned sharply on your heel at the familiar voice. You had never heard it so painful. You locked eyes with Hermione and she stalked toward you. You took a sharp breath and got ready for the first conversation you would have with her from the entire year. “What is your problem!?” She yelled at you.
“Hm? What's wrong, otter?” You played coy and pushed your hair back. You gave her your best smile, but from the look in her eyes you could tell it wasn't working. She scoffed at you and threw her gloves at your chest.
“You,,, You selfish git! I knew I should have listened to everyone! You're nothing but a scoundrel!” She shouted at you, in between shoves to your chest that got weaker as tears filled her eyes. You were stunned, jaw slack and trying to figure out just what to say in this moment.
You eventually grabbed her wrists and cooed at her to take a breath. It broke your heart to see her like this. “Come on now, you know I hate seeing pretty girls cry.” You mused and she huffed. “Don't call me that.”
“What? Otter or Pretty girl?” You asked and she huffed. 
“Both! You don't get to after what you've done!” Her shouts filled the empty hall. You grimaced and sighed. 
“Listen-”
“No! You listen to me!” She shouted over you and you quickly nodded. “I have spent my time at Hogwarts thinking I was invisible. I did my best, I got top grades, and the second people began to notice they acted like I was some kind of disease! Like I was just some arrogant cocky Muggle born who didn't deserve to be here.”
“You do-”
“It’s my turn Lupin!” She cut you off again and you nodded, putting her gloves in your pocket and leaning forward to try and dry her eyes. She leaned into your hands and it calmed her instantly. “I felt so out of place. I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then I met you,” She whispered and stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around your middle and she hid her face in your suit. “When I talked, you listened. When I asked you answered. You sought me out.. You made me feel like you wanted me around. Like I was special.”
You looked down at her in surprise.
“You were the first person to show me what that felt like. Everyone warned me that you were just a cruel flirt. And I guess they were right. I don't know what I thought, I see the girls you've had before, All pretty and done up, so bold and confident. I didn't even get the luxury to say I lost you like they have. Because I never had you. You never wanted me. You're cruel, {Y/N} Lupin.” She sniffled.
Your eyes were wide and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. Pulling her close into your chest you allowed yourself to press your nose to her hair. You let her cry in frustration in your arms. Not stopping her when she would occasionally hit your side with her closed fist. 
“Say something.” She begged pathetically, sniffling into your chest.
“... I have been torturing myself for months, thinking I wasn't worth your time, Hermione.” You admitted, voice dripping in shame. She scoffed and you pulled some of her hair behind her ear.
“Rubbish.”
“It's true.” You cooed in a playful tone. Pressing your chin to her head. “I was so wrapped up in the idea that you didn't want me back, Otter.”
Her sniffles slowly died out, she pulled back and looked you in the eye. You grabbed her cheeks again and leaned in closer. Your lips were a few inches from each other. You could feel her breath brush your lips. “You wanted me?”
“I want you.” You corrected and leaned in closer. She closed her eyes and her breath hitched. You stared at her, admiring her in the moonlight. You usually hated the moon and what it did to your family, but right now, you couldn't think of a better color for her. Your thumb traced her cupid’s bow and she huffed. “I am still mad at you, Lupin. So I’ll give you a choice.” She whined up at you and you smirked.
“Yes, pretty girl?”
“Kiss me or walk me back.”
You laughed and moved closer, your eyes lidding. “That’s a big gamble you're making there.” You breathe and she only smirks. “I like my odds.”
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moonstruckme · 10 months ago
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Now that your requests are open I need more ceo Sirius content PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏
Thanks for requesting! You didn't ask for smut but it's what popped into my head lol, hope this is okay
cw: smut mdni, semi-public sex
ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 636 words
“Baby.” Sirius’ voice is low and smooth. Compelling. “Let me see you, dollface.” 
You struggle to pick your head up from where it’s dropped off the edge of his desk, finding your boyfriend watching you from his plush chair. 
“There’s my girl.” He grins, eyes glinting with humor at your flushed face. His hand strokes up and down your thigh, a soothing touch that’s completely at odds with the mess of slick between your legs. 
It doesn’t seem particularly fair to you how casual he looks. Sirius is relaxing in his chair like he’s sitting in a meeting, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied in a loose bun like he might’ve just pulled it back to have his lunch. Meanwhile, you’re spread half naked on his desk, seeping wetness onto the varnished wood. 
His fingers dip into you, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit, and you make a choked sound. 
“Breathe,” Sirius reminds you. 
You roll your hips in search of more, but he stops you with a firm hand, pressing down just below your navel. 
“Easy, sweetness. We’ve got all afternoon, remember? Don’t want to tire you out too early.” 
“Sirius.” Your voice comes out breathy, teetering on the edge of a whine. “Come here.” 
He hums and curls his fingers inside you. You make a sound like you’re dying. You might be. “That wasn’t very polite, was it?” 
“Please.” 
He gives up the act easily, standing and bending with his fingers still inside you to lock his lips with yours. The way he kisses you says enough about how much he’s been exercising his patience, too. Greedy passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth. Deep, long kisses punctuated by little nips. You meet him all the way, half sitting up on the desk to be closer to him even as the butt of his palm works ceaselessly into your clit. 
You’re the first to break the kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 
“Sir?” 
Sirius sighs, but his fingers don’t so much as stutter inside you. He raises his voice to be heard through the door. “I thought I told you not to bother me, Len,” he says, a slight bite of annoyance in his tone. 
“I know, I’m sorry. But Mrs. Burke’s assistant called, she wants to move her meeting to three today.” 
Your chest starts to burn, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You keep a hand pressed over your mouth, terrified of letting out some small sound that could give you away. As if on cue, Sirius’ fingers curl inside you again. Your thighs start to tremble.
“What happened to two tomorrow?” 
“She’s had to cut her trip short and will be leaving tonight. Three’s her last availability.” 
Sirius frowns, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall. That means he has to have you out of here and have his office cleaned up in an hour. His eyes meet yours, flashing with challenge in a way that has your shaking worsening. He smiles, wolfish. 
“You can let her know that’ll be fine,” he says. “Thanks, Len.” 
He waits a few seconds for Len to go from the door, then takes your chin in his hand. “What’d we say about breathing, doll?” 
You finally let the air escape you. Sirius watches amusedly, fingers still moving in and out of you at an indolent pace. 
“Should I go?” you ask once you catch your breath.
Dark eyebrows flick upwards. “No,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “Didn’t you hear Len? My meeting’s not until three.” He bends close to your face, a lock of hair that’s escaped his bun brushing your cheek. “I reckon we can get at least two good ones out of you before then, don’t you think?”
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lamardeuse · 1 month ago
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Jeremy Corbyn is opposed to this bill. Diane Abbott is opposed to this bill. A lot of people on the left are opposed to this bill. The current Labour government is basically the Tories with a different name, refusing to increase taxes on the top 1% or pass any legislation or pursue any initiatives that will make the lives of working class people better. Instead they promise to go after "benefits cheats" and asylum seekers with the same demonizing language that Farage uses so no, not in any way, shape or form is Starmer's government left wing.
For those of us actually on the left, just because our morality may not come from religious belief doesn't mean you don't share common cause with "the left" (and there are absolutely left wing people with strong religious beliefs as well). It always blows my mind that people think there's a left wing bias in any mainstream media, including sources like the New York Times or the Guardian - they've had a neoliberal slant in the past but that old Overton window has been shifting them rightwards for a long time. You should always assume that anything written by a human has a bias, and that's just the way it is because we are human and we have biases - but know what that bias is and who they are serving with that bias. Know why they're promoting x or y or z or demonizing e f or g or remaining silent on a or b or c.
The people who want everyone to have bread and roses - and housing, food, water, dignity and human rights regardless of their age, race, national origin or ability - those people are not the ones who are pushing this bill. Ask yourself why.
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harrywavycurly · 4 months ago
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What about Harry getting all flustered in the Lonely series? He’s always saving and reassuring us but what’s a time when he’d need us to relax him?🥺❤️
Hiii lovey!!! I agree he does seem to be really good at reassuring you so it’ll be nice to see you calming him down in a moment of panic for him, so I hope this is what you’re looking for!💖
-find all things Lonely here✨
CW: Language
A/N: Harry just wants to enjoy a lunch date with you before your Miami trip but things don’t go the way he wants, enjoy some protective Harry with a healthy dash of you being sweet and fluffy with him✨
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“He’s so much prettier in person.”
“God I know.”
“What do you think he smells like?”
You just smile to yourself as you walk past the group of girls on your way to take a seat at your usual table that’s tucked away in the corner near the window of the cafe down the street of your old house. You slip off your sunglasses and place them in your purse before hanging it on the edge of your chair, you take a quick glance over to the counter area to check on Harry to see if he needs your assistance and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh when you see him because even after all these years he still somehow manages to give you butterflies whenever you spot him across a crowded room.
He’s standing against the wall with one hand tucked into the front pocket of his well fitting jeans and the other holding his phone, trying to be out of the way of people picking up their orders but also trying his best to not be that noticeable but the black short sleeve button up he opted to wear this morning isn’t helping due to it allowing his most recognizable tattoos to be on display. Along with the fact that he just has one of those faces that even with his sunglasses on people could point out in a crowded room especially when he smiles like he is at you right now, making his signature dimples appear. You return the smile and even shoot him a playful wink before you look away and turn your attention towards your wedding binder your wedding planner gave you that has all the little details in it for your big day, you flip it to the page that is all about your bachelorette trip so you can go over the checklist one more time.
“Oh my god.” You look up when you hear a sudden gasp coming from next to you and when you’re met with a pair of wide eyes you just give the girl a warm smile and sit up a bit so you can give her your full attention. “I know you.” She blurts and you know she regrets saying it the moment the words come out of her mouth based on how pink her cheeks get.
“Hi there.” You watch her try to gather her thoughts so you just reach your hand out and gently place your hand on her arm. “I love your shirt.” You tell her as you look at her Love On Tour shirt that looks like she tye dyed herself before you remove your hand from her arm trying to help her relax a bit and when she smiles at you before looking down at her shirt you know it seems to have worked a bit.
“Oh thank you uh-are you uhm here with Harry?” You just smile and nod as your eyes flicker behind her to the man himself who you know is watching the scene that’s happening at the table intensely. “Congrats on the uhm-uh engagement.” Her voice is shaky as she starts to mess with the bracelets on her wrists and you just give her another smile and reach both hands out to grab hers.
“Thank you that’s so sweet of you.” You give her hands a little squeeze before letting them go. “What’s your name?” You ask as you quickly look behind her to see Harry’s status and you feel a bit anxious when you see him at the counter grabbing your order meaning he was going to be heading this way any minute.
“Stephanie.” She answers with a nervous smile and you just nod.
“Well Stephanie I can tell Harry you said hello if you’d like?” You ask and then your eyes catch a glimpse of someone walking up behind her and you look at them with a raised brow and they just nod making you grin as you look back at Stephanie. “Or Stephanie you can tell him yourself?” You watch her face go from one of confusion to pure shock as Harry’s tattooed arm comes into her view when he reaches over to hand you your iced coffee.
“Hello Stephanie.” His voice saying her name makes her cheeks go a deep shade of pink as she slowly turns around and faces him as he slides his sunglasses up into his hair so he can look down at her. “S’lovely to meet you.” He says with a smile as you quickly reach for the bag that has both of your sandwiches in it and his iced latte so his hands are free to give her a hug.
“You’re Harry Styles.” She mumbles into his chest when his arms wrap around her and he just chuckles in response, you take your seat and just watch the two of them as you take a sip of your coffee.
“Oh love the shirt.” He says when he pulls away from the hug.
“She-she said that too.” Stephanie stutters as she looks at you just as you take a bite of your sandwich making Harry laugh as you place a hand over your mouth and just try your best to smile and nod.
“Hungry sweetheart? Can’t even wait for me? That’s a bit rude innit?” He teases and Stephanie just giggles making Harry smile because he always loves when someone laughs at his jokes even when they are just silly teasing ones like this. “Well it was a pleasure meeting you love, have a good rest of your day okay?” With that Harry gives her one more quick hug before she says a quick thank you and she’s off rushing over to her friends.
“She was cute.” You say after you swallow your bite of sandwich as Harry takes his seat across from you. “What?” You ask when you hear Harry let out a sigh but he just shakes his head as he takes his sunglasses off and tucks them into his shirt before he reaches over to grab one of your hands.
“Nothing baby.” You tilt your head and give him a questioning look as he brings your hand up to his lips. “I love you.” Is all he says before you feel him place a few kisses to your knuckles.
“I love you too.” He just smiles as he lets you take your hand out of his so you can grab his sandwich out of the bag and hand it to him.
Harry normally doesn’t mind meeting fans, he loves them and he knows it takes a lot to actually come up to him and say hello so he never tries to make anyone feel uncomfortable but there are times when he would like to be left alone. Those times are often when he’s out with other people, like his family, friends or for instance right now when he’s just trying to have lunch with you, his fiancé before you leave him for a whole week for your bachelorette trip in Miami. He knows that talking to Stephanie is going to make others feel more comfortable coming up to him to say hello and honestly he’d prefer that over what he sees happening over your shoulder. For Harry it’s the recordings and all the random photos that get snapped of you he doesn’t like, he never has enjoyed the idea that people just have videos and pictures of you on their phones all because you know him or now because you’re engaged to him.
“Harry?” You reaching over and grabbing his hand breaks him out of his thoughts causing him to slightly shake his head before he looks across the table at you, you’re looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown on your face. Harry gives your hand a firm squeeze but the smile he gives you to try to make you think he’s fine just makes you glare at him in response because you can read him like a book by now, you know something is bothering him and it’s been bothering him since he sat down across from you twenty minutes ago.
“Sorry sweetheart what did you say?” He asks as he glances down at the table and sees the checklist for your trip and he has to rub his lips together to hide the frown that was threatening to take over his face when he catches the time of your flight tomorrow morning.
You let out a huff and slide your hand out of his so you can close your binder and slide it off to the side, you fold your arms on top of the table and stare at Harry and he does good for a solid ten seconds and then he slips up, you catch his eyes glance over your shoulder in the same direction Stephanie walked off in. You quickly act as if you’re looking in your purse that’s hanging on your chair so you can try to see what’s caught his attention, you catch the same group of girls you walked by earlier sitting at their table all with their eyes glued to their phones that all seem to be pointed in your direction.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” You ask with a raised brow when you turn your attention back to him and away from the table of girls.
“I just wanted this to be a nice lunch and-”
“Are you saying it hasn’t been nice?” Harry playfully glares at you in response to your teasing question making you smile as you reach over and hold your hand out for him. “It’s just a few teenage girls Harry it’s not a big deal.” And as if on queue you catch something in your peripheral vision out the window making you turn your head to see what’s going on outside and the moment you do you’re met with a young girl waving at you who is standing next to a man holding a professional camera aimed towards Harry.
“It never stays just a few fans it always turns into more.” Is all Harry says when you look away from the window and back to him as he reaches down and grabs the hand that you were holding out for him. “If we leave now we can still probably walk to that little shop down the street that sells those god awful sour candies you love so we can get you some for your trip.” You know he’s going over all the exit strategies in his head as he talks, as you watch his eyes glance from your face to the window and then to the table of fans behind you.
“They aren’t god awful you just have horrible-”
“We need to go.” The tone of Harry’s voice is what tells you to just nod and let go of his hand so you can start to grab your things, it’s not one he uses with you often because it’s deep but laced with a hint of almost anger that you know is not directed at you. “Now. Please love.” He tries to be softer this time when he notices you taking a little too long to get your stuff and he even gives you a smile as he stands up and leans over to grab your wedding planning binder for you, tucking it under his arm while you throw your purse over your shoulder before standing up. You glance out the window and see a few more cameras aimed at the two of you and now a small group of fans has gathered around the entrance of the cafe as well.
“Hey look at me.” You reach for his hand and interlock your fingers with his and give it a nice firm squeeze as he locks eyes with you. “I’m right here and I’m fine.” You reassure him with a smile and while normally you aren’t the biggest fan of kissing in public at this moment in time you know what Harry needs to help calm him down so you don’t hesitate to reach your free hand up place it on his cheek as you lean in and give his lips a quick peck.
“Thank you.” He mumbles before he steals a second kiss before you can fully pull away from him making you giggle as you drop your hand from his face. “Remember the rules sweetheart?” You roll your eyes as you grab your sunglasses out of your bag and slide them back on your face.
“Don’t talk to them..just keep walking and don’t touch them and they won’t touch you…just like at a haunted house.”
“Perfect it’s like you’ve done this before or something.”
“Only once or twice but one time I did tell a photographer to fu-”
“Yeah let’s not have any repeats of Vegas okay?”
“Fine but I’m warning you now if they call my ring ugly I’m going to say something.” Harry just laughs and shakes his head as he looks down at you while you finish off your iced coffee before tossing it in the trash.
“Ready baby?” You just nod and feel him give your hand one last squeeze before he lets it go, he quickly puts on his sunglasses and leads you to the entrance of the cafe giving the table of fans a smile as he walks by earning a few gasps and one loud squeal making you just smile because you get it, he is indeed squeal and gasp worthy. Harry hands you the wedding binder so that once you’re outside he will be able to pull you close to his side with one arm and keep the other free just in case someone tries to get too close for his liking.
“Bet you five bucks they ask the reunion at the wedding question.” You joke trying your best to lighten the mood while you can because you know the moment he pushes open the cafe door Harry is going to switch over into the protective side of himself that you’ve seen quite a bit of ever since the first time you got caught in a swarm of cameras and fans with him years ago.
“Damn you always have to beat me don’t you? I was just about to say that” You just shrug making him chuckle as he gives you one last once over as if he’s making sure you have everything and you’re actually ready to go.
“Snooze you lose Styles now let’s go get me some candy.” Harry nods as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your cheek making you smile as you tighten your hold on the binder in your hands as Harry gently pushes open the cafe door, him walking out first with you right behind him. He is quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side allowing him to put distance between you and the group of men with cameras and the few fans that have gathered outside.
“Harry! How’s the wedding planning going?”
“Is it true Niall’s the best man?”
“Can we see the ring?”
“Who’s on the guest list? Will we get a One Direction reunion for the wedding?”
You try not to laugh as you feel Harry’s grip on you tighten the moment the question gets hurled at the two of you as you make your way down the sidewalk towards the little shop. Harry on the other hand keeps a tight lipped smile on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on the people surrounding the two of you, but luckily no one seems to be getting too close or shouting rude things. That all changes in what feels like a matter of seconds when you feel a hand on your back giving you a slight pat but before you can even turn your head to see who it is that needs your attention Harry is sliding his arm from your shoulders down to your waist and you feel his hand gently give your hip a little nudge and in one smooth motion you’re standing directly in front of him.
“Watch the hell out.” You internally flinch at the harshness of Harry’s voice as you feel his hand on your hip give you a firm squeeze, his way of letting you know he’s got you. He has his chest practically flush with your back while his head is turned to look at the man who thought it was okay to tap you on the back, and if you turned your head to look at Harry you’d see his nostrils a bit flared along with slightly flushed cheeks letting you know he’s angry. “Bloody prick.” He snaps at the man who is just a mere foot away from the two of you with his camera in his hand.
“Harry come on-”
“What makes you think you can just touch her?” There’s no kindness in his voice and he really doesn’t mean to cut you off but Harry just can’t let this go, not when the man hasn’t even tried to say sorry or really anything at all. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him when you feel his hand leave your hip so he can fully turn around to face the man. “Better yet what makes you think it’s okay to fucking touch her and not even say sorry?” You look around and see a few phones out, no doubt recording the whole situation so you quickly turn around and place your hand on Harry’s back making him turn his head to look at you.
“It’s okay it was an accident and won’t happen again.” You explain as you look from Harry to the man standing in front of him and you know based on the wide eyed expression on the man’s face you’re lucky to just get a nod in response, looking to be in a state of shock. “So let’s just all maybe take a few steps back please.” You suggest as you look around and watch as almost everyone around the two of you take some small steps backwards giving you and Harry a bit of breathing room.
“That’s not good enough.” You’re thankful that your sunglasses block your eye roll from Harry because you know he wouldn’t appreciate your sass right now but you know that the man standing in front of the two of you is in no way in the right mental state to say much of anything right now. “He needs to say sorry.” He adds as he finally looks down at you and you take this moment to place a hand on his cheek.
“Baby.” Harry lets out a sigh and leans into your touch as the petname leaves your lips and it’s as if all the anger and frustration he was feeling just seconds beforehand is slowly but surely fading away as you run your thumb over his cheek. Now normally you save calling him anything other than Harry for special occasions but sometimes you have to bring out the big guns to get him to focus on what you’re about to say.
“Please let’s just go.” Harry just nods and it’s as if he forgets the two of you are standing on a sidewalk outside of one of your favorite cafes as he turns his head so his lips land on the inside of your palm before he brings one of his hands up and wraps it around your wrist.
“Okay sweetheart.” He leans down and places a kiss to your forehead before he brings your hand down from his face and turns around so he can lead you further down the street towards the shop you wanted to get your candy from. “I’ll call for the car while you shop for your sweets does that sound good love?” You just smile as he brings your hand up to his lips giving the top of it a little peck.
“Fine but don’t think I forgot you owe me five bucks.” Harry just laughs as he drops your hand so he can once again wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side.
You look around and feel relief wash over you when it seems most of the crowd has stayed near the cafe and only a few photographers have followed the two of you but at a much more bearable distance. You know for the rest of the day Harry isn’t going to let you get more than an arms length away from him and that’s if he’s being generous, he was already feeling clingy due to the fact he’s about to be away from you for a week but this is just going to make him take it up a notch. So you aren’t at all shocked when you feel him rest his chin on your shoulder as one of his arms wrap around your waist from behind while you pick out the candy you want for your flight, your wedding binder securely tucked under his other arm so your hands are free. It also doesn’t come as a surprise when you feel his hands practically pull you into his lap the moment the car door closes and the two of you are headed home, his face buried in the crook of your neck while his arms wrap around your middle holding onto you as if he’s worried you might slip away if he loosens his grip.
“It’s okay.” You whisper softly as you run a hand through his hair while moving just a bit so you can get into a more comfortable position, with your legs straddling his thighs. “I’m okay.” You reassure him before placing a kiss to the side of his head, you hear him let out a deep sigh as he tries to pull you even closer to him making your chest flush with his and you know in this moment he just needs to feel as close to you as he can so you allow him to squish you a bit.
“Do you remember when we first got photographed together?” You ask as you continue to run your hand through his hair, you take him giving your middle a small squeeze as your queue to continue. “I don’t remember what we were doing exactly I just remember you were holding my backpack and of course I’ll never forget what they called me it was-”
“Unnamed college girl.” You laugh as Harry finishes your sentence for you as he sits up making your hand fall to the back of his neck. “I picked you up from class because I was on a break from tour and I’m a proper gentleman so I carried your backpack but you were wearing a jumper with your university’s name on it and I wanted to hold your hand but you were being mean and told me no because it would start dating rumors.” You watch him give you the fakest pout he can muster as he looks down at you making you playfully roll your eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m always just so mean to you aren’t I?” Harry nods but you see him struggling to keep up his fake pout as you lean in and place a kiss to his cheek.
“Leaving me for a whole week is the meanest thing you’ve ever done.” You want to laugh but you hold it in as you lean over and give his other cheek a kiss. “You’re gonna be spending all this time with Niall while I’m just sat at home missing you.” He adds with a bit more of a whine to his voice.
“We’ve gone longer without seeing each other Harry.” You remind him but he just rolls his eyes at you making you quirk a brow at him. “What? It’s true we’ve gone months-”
“That was before I realized I was in love with you and now I can’t-no I won’t ever go months without seeing you ever again that just can’t happen I won’t-”
“Hey.” Your voice is soft and just a little above a whisper as you bring your hands up to cup his face, you can feel his heart beating faster while his hold on you tightens and his eyes are staring into yours with an intensity that lets you know he’s on the verge on a small panic attack. “I’m right here.” You run your thumbs over his cheeks as you feel him let out a few deep breaths trying to calm himself down.
“I hate this.” He closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours. “I already miss you and you haven’t even left yet.” He feels silly for saying it but he knows you’ll understand, you always do.
The thing you’ve learned about Harry over the years is that when he loves someone he doesn’t know how to not give all of himself to them. People sometimes say he comes off a little too strongly but you know it’s because for so long he never knew where he was going to be in a day or a week so he just now has a habit of telling people how he feels the moment he feels it so he doesn’t run the risk of never having the moment to say it again, and for some that can just come off as a bit much. But not to you, you live for those moments even back when the love he had for you was strictly platonic it was still nice to hear how much he cared for you but now when he stops what he’s doing to just stare at you and tells you he loves you it makes your heart feel like it’s on fire in the best way.
“One time I cried in the bathroom of my apartment because you were leaving in two days.” You admit making Harry open his eyes and lean back so he can look at you with your hands still on his face. “I just knew it was going to suck because you were headed off to Live On Tour and you were just so busy and I didn’t know when I was going to be able to squeeze myself into your schedule so I full on panic cried in the bathroom while you were still sitting in my living room eating my leftover pizza.” Harry can’t help but give you a look and you know that when he opens his mouth he is going to try to apologize for all the times he’s ever had to leave you during the last ten years so you just shake your head and give him a smile. “I think that just means we must really like each other or something.” You joke as you lean in and place a kiss to his lips making him smile when you pull away.
“I love you.” You smile before he leans in for another kiss while your hands go from his face down to the back of his head pulling him closer to you.
“I love you too.” You respond as you finally pull away making Harry let out a sigh of content as you feel the car come to a stop. Harry turns to look out the window and smiles when he sees the front gate opening up leading up to the driveway of the house the two of you share. “I still can’t believe we are gate people.” Harry laughs as he loosens his hold on you so you can reach over and grab your purse making sure to put both his and your sunglasses inside since they got tossed to the seat next to you the moment the two of you got into the car.
“Baby we have to be gate people or else anyone could just be in front of our house.”
“As if they don’t just stand outside the gate?”
“The gate is a safety measure sweetheart.” You just let out a huff as you slide off Harry’s lap and into the seat next to him, Harry just chuckles at your dramatics because he knows the real reason you make a fuss about the gate is because you always forget your gate opener so you have to enter the code which you also always forget resulting in Harry either coming out and opening it for you or him texting you the code if he’s not home. “Speaking of safety measures who’s on security in Miami?” Harry asks as the passenger door opens and he slides out and holds his hand out for you to take so he can help you out of the car.
“Niall.” Harry rolls his eyes as you hand him the binder instead of giving him your hand as you climb out of the car.
“Niall? No love I mean who is your security while you’re there?” You stop walking and place a hand on your hip as Harry makes his way up the front steps towards the front door. “Baby? Did you-why are..you looking at me like that?” He’s at the top of the steps looking at you, binder in one hand and the bag from the candy shop along with the house key in his other.
“Harry we’ve been over this already.” You watch his eyebrows furrow in confusion making you glare at him from the bottom step. “I’m taking Preston and Niall has the rest handled with his team.” You watch it all hit him that he has in fact heard this information before as you finally join him at the top of the steps.
“You think Preston is enough?” He asks as he unlocks the front door allowing you to enter first, you shoot him a look as you slide your shoes off and head for the stairs.
“Of course he’s enough. He’s Preston.” You answer as you drop your purse onto the couch before heading up the stairs. “But I am so telling him you asked me that.” You threaten making Harry’s eyes go a bit wide as he drops his keys on the table by the front door, you just laugh to yourself when you look over your shoulder and see him staring at you from the bottom of the stairs.
“Always so mean to me.”
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daisynik7 · 1 year ago
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hello it's me again not sure if it's alright to request one more (literally just ignore this if not) and its also not y2k but i'd like to request work song by hozier for nanami especially "no grave can hold my body down, i'd crawl home to her" angst with a happy ending during/post shibuya (no dying please) and reader is also a healer like shoko
thank you so much and congrats again ���🏼
Work Song
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No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her
Pairing: Nanami x f!reader
Word Count: ~1.6k
cw: mentions of d*ath, bl*od, burn injuries, canon-divergent, set in the canon-universe during the Shibuya Incident Arc, MAJOR spoilers up to Shibuya Arc, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending
Summary: You’re a healer working with Shoko inside the medical tent at Shibuya Station while Nanami, your boyfriend, is in the line of fire for the battle ahead. After an especially life-threatening attack, Nanami, on the brink, runs into an old friend, who helps guide him back home. 
Author’s Note: @75songs thank you so much for sending in another request for the y2k karaoke party, always appreciate your love and support! I ADORE this song and have honestly always thought it was perfect for Nanami. I am an anime only and am not caught up with season 2 yet, so I didn’t want to read too much into what exactly happens during this arc, so some of the details may be inaccurate, just a heads up. This one got me in my feelings. I will forever hold a grudge against Gege for what they did to Nanami. Anyways, likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading! Divider by @/saradika.
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October 31st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, you and Nanami would be celebrating Halloween tonight, passing colorful candies and decadent chocolates to kids going door-to-door across the neighborhood. You’d force him to dress up in a silly costume, one that matches yours, despite his reluctance at first. Deep down, you know he likes this; domestic bliss, especially with you. The idea that the two of you could live a peaceful life together, away from the dangerous world of curses and Jujutsu sorcery. You discuss it constantly, dream about it, strive for it. A few more years, he says, and he’ll retire. There’s still more work to be done, people to be saved. 
You’re inside the medical tent beside Shoko, helping her set up the cots, anticipating injured sorcerers to arrive soon with the battle underway. Masamichi Yaga, Jujutsu High’s principal, stands guard outside, determined to keep the medical team, especially Shoko, safe from any posing threats. There’s no way to know what’s happening until people start arriving, in need of medical attention. You’re a healer too, but not nearly as skilled as Shoko, your mentor. Still, she encourages you to join them tonight, needing all the help they can get. 
“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, setting up the last bed. Observant as ever, she notices your quiet demeanor.
You nod, giving her a weak, unconvincing smile. “Yeah.”
“Nanami is going to be fine,” she assures you, sensing the root of your anxiety. “When this is all done, the two of you should take a vacation together.”
Relaxing a bit, you reply, “We already have our trip to Malaysia planned in a few months.”
She smiles kindly. “There you go. Something to look forward to.”
Her words ease some of the tension, but there’s dread settling in the pit of your stomach, and it won’t go away until you see Nanami again in one piece. 
The waiting game finally ends as soon as the first wounded sorcerer shows up in the tent, initiating nonstop chaos. You assist Shoko diligently, making sure everything is prepared for her to perform her Reverse Cursed Technique for those who need it, and patching up those who don’t, with less severe injuries. You’re constantly on the lookout to see a familiar face, trying to get an update on what’s happening out there. None comes, until you see Kiyotaka Ijichi limping towards the entrance, blood spread across his shirt. You and Shoko rush towards him, carrying him over your shoulders, leading him to an empty cot, gently laying him down. 
Shoko, showing panic on her face for the first time all night, inspects him carefully. “Ijichi, can you hear me?” She’s always had a soft spot for him, often telling you how endearing she finds him, always a nervous wreck in front of her. Seeing him like this is surely jarring, even for her, who’s as tough as nails. 
He nods weakly, mumbling something incoherent, blood sputtering from his mouth. You remove the shattered glasses from his eyes, wiping his lips with gauze. Shoko starts to work on him, directing you to check on the other patients. Before you can follow orders, you feel his weak grip on your wrist. You turn to face him, focused on his lips as he quietly utters, “Nanami.”
Your ears perk up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, leaning in closer to hear the rest of what he has to say, taking his time through labored breaths. “He…saved…me…” 
You do your best to keep your composure, nodding at him silently, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. Unsure how to respond, you leave them, going to the other side of the tent to check on the remaining sorcerers. 
With everyone else in stable condition, you take a minute outside the tent to sob into your hands, praying that Nanami is still alive. Unaware of your surroundings, you’re startled when Yaga approaches, his large figure sitting beside you. “You alright?”
You wipe away your sniffles on your sleeve. “Just…nervous.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. “Yeah, I get it. But Nanami is one of our strongest sorcerers. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Again, more words of comfort, but not enough to ease the nervous flutter in your belly. Yaga recognizes this and adds, “Nanami would fight through the fires of hell instead of letting himself die. Not because he wants to live for himself. But because he wants to live for you.”
You face him now, processing his statement. He chuckles, lifting his sunglasses to meet your gaze. “That man has never been so smitten in his life. He’d crawl out his grave just to be with you, I guarantee it.”
~~~
The last thing Nanami remembers is desperately wishing he was in Malaysia with you instead of at Shibuya Station right now. He wakes up, sitting in one of the seats on the platform. It’s eerily quiet with no one in sight. The distinct sounds of trains on the rails or the hustle and bustle of people moving along is strangely absent, and it occurs to Nanami that this may be a dream. 
He's sure of it when he feels a nudge to his side, turning to face Yu Haibara sitting next to him. There’s a warm smile on his boyish face, dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, exactly as he was many years ago when Nanami last saw him, alive and well. The same bright, earnest eyes he remembers vividly of his best friend. He swallows hard, an uneasy feeling surrounding him. Is he seeing a ghost? Or is this the afterlife?
Haibara laughs, and Nanami is snapped out of his reverie and taken immediately back to 2006, when he first met his friend during orientation. He can’t help but grin, happy to see him still so lively. “Well, aren’t you going to greet your old friend, Nanami?”
Nanami does, hugging him, astonished to feel him in his arms almost like a real person. Almost. “What are you doing here?”
“Just came to visit you, that’s all.”
Nanami lets him go, studying him carefully, looking for any signs of decay. When he spots none, he asks him, “Am I dead?”
Haibara shakes his head. “Not quite. But you’re pretty damn close.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. So you better hurry and get home quick.” Haibara points towards the railings, now illuminated at one end by a blinding flash of light. “Yuji’s waiting for you.”
“Itadori? How do you know – “
Haibara then says your name with a big smile. “Yeah, I know her too. They’re all waiting for you, Nanami. You don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do you?”
It takes a while for Nanami to get up, and when he does, he’s off balance, legs wobbly, body unsteady. Haibara helps him, offering his shoulder, the two of them walking slowly towards the light. “I really like her, you know. Your girlfriend.”
“You do?” Nanami asks, hobbling beside him. 
“Yeah. She’s really nice, really pretty, and she eats a lot, especially with you,” he chuckles. “You know how much I like that.”
“Yeah I do.”
“And I’m a good judge of character, so I think she’s perfect for you. If that means anything,” he says, proudly.
“It does. It means a lot.” They’re near the edge of the platform now and Nanami will have to hop down to reach the end of the tunnel. 
“Are you going to marry her soon?” Haibara asks, pausing just before the edge. 
Nanami nods, grinning. “I’m planning to propose during our vacation in Malaysia.” 
“Good. Good.”
He’s tempted to stay longer, wanting a few more moments with his friend, but he knows that time is ticking. He hugs him again, squeezing him tight. “Take care, Haibara.”
“You too, Nanami. I’ll be looking out for you.”
His chest constricts, jumping off the platform, landing roughly on the railings, blinking away the tears in his eyes. It’s sweltering now, the light emitting an intense heat from within. He gives Haibara one last glance, cherishing the happy expression on his face as he waves goodbye to him before walking into the light.
Seconds later, Nanami wakes up with a gasp of breath, vision blurred, a droning pounding beating against his ear drums. It soon fades and only Yuji’s panicked voice yelling from behind him is heard. He’s being dragged by the armpits, away from the battle. Smoke radiates from his entire form, and he can barely move. In fact, he can barely feel anything at all. 
They reach the medical tent, Itadori yelling for help the whole way. Yaga is the first to reach them, his usual calm demeanor wavering at the sight of Nanami, body half-burned from the explosion. They carrying him delicately inside, resting him on the only empty cot left. He wants to close his eyes; he’s so exhausted, and sleep is the only thing to bring him peace right now. That, or you. 
As if his prayers were heard, you appear at his side, truly a vision, even while you sob for him, holding his mangled hand in yours, begging for him to stay with you. He can die happy now, seeing your face, knowing that you’re here, alive, heart beating, surviving. Can he do the same? Can he survive this? All he knows is that he’s trying with every fiber he has left in his being. He won’t leave you, not like this. Not without experiencing life on the outside with you. 
It’s in this moment that he vows to endure. Even if he has to crawl out of his grave to do it, he’s determined to be with you again. 
~~~ 
November 1st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, Nanami is gone. Not in this one, though. Instead, you sit beside him, healed and in one piece thanks to Shoko, fingers laced with his, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Yuji and Ino are at his other side, talking animatedly about how amazing Nanami was the entire fight, and all he can do is lay there, smiling. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with you. 
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angelofsmalldeaath · 6 months ago
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Could you write anything about Andrew in his blue jeans. They got my going feral, absolutely loosing my shit
a/n: the blue jeans aren't heavily mentioned but i think they still do play an important part
cw: andrew having a dire desperate crush, very slightly suggestive
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it’s thirty minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage. 
he’s in a city he’s played in multiple times, he knows the setlist from back to front, and he’s already thinking about what twists he can put on the songs tonight. the backstage is pretty crowded and bustling; his drummer sits on a chair, idly drumming away to whatever’s playing in his ears at the moment. his bassist has a laugh, chatting with some of the backing singers, a cigarette in one hand.  
he sits and watches. 
he knows she’s far too busy running around from one person to the next, making sure everything is perfect and ready to go. her staff lanyard swishes back and forth every time she dashes past him, and his heart squeezes every time she throws a casual smile at someone else.
“you’re running around like a headless chicken,” he calls out as soon as she’s within earshot. 
she staggers to a stop, looks at him with a raised eyebrow, “yeah, well,” she shrugs, “i have a million last-minute things to look at.”
he knows it’s literally her job, but in this moment, all he wants is for her to sit next to him (better yet, for her to sit in his lap) and just talk to him. about anything and everything. but then a small smile blooms on her face and his heart skips a beat. 
“your pins are all wonky,” she laughs a little and gestures for him to stand up.
it’s become a bit of a habit for him now, wearing the pins crooked by just the slightest. it happened a few months ago on accident when he was rushing, but then he saw how it irked her and how she was dying to fix it. how close they both stood while her fingers worked deftly at aligning them.  
and so now he does it on purpose, wears them just crooked enough to irk her so she would come over and fix them for him. but he has to be careful enough not to do it every time. and on days he wears them perfectly, he constantly dreams about what it would be like to have her hands still brushing against his chest.
“blue jeans today?” she quirks an eyebrow, looking him up and down.
“oh, you know all about my fashion choices, do you?” he teases, trying to compensate for how breathless he feels. a faint scent of jasmine washes over him—her shampoo or her body lotion, he doesn’t know—but his mind has started associating the scent with her and her alone. 
“no…” she trails off, looking at him a little sternly, and he worries a bit that he’s teased at the wrong time.
she was clearly running around, busy with other things backstage and now he’s sprung an additional task on her. he’s worried that he’s come across as a petulant rockstar who needs assistance for as simple a task as this. 
“they look nice on you. better than the black,” she bites her lip to stop herself from smiling and his brain short circuits. 
for one, she’s just teased back, even if it was barely anything. and now all he can think about is biting her lip while holding her in his arms. 
the height difference between them means that every time she looks up at him, it’s through her eyelashes. his lips part slightly, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. and he can’t; he can’t just go around burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. so he has to collect little bits and pieces of her whenever he can and store them like stolen candy. 
“there,” she says once she’s done and gives him a little pat on his chest, “now you look all handsome again.”
him. handsome. she thinks he looks handsome. he’s sure he has the stupidest, silliest grin on his face.
“oh god, don’t smile at me like that,” she blurts out. it’s rushed, almost a whisper, almost like it wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, but her eyes widen. and she looks away in an instant.
“why?” he feigns arrogance, seamlessly slipping into the confident artist his fans meet, “does my devastatingly handsome smile make you go crazy?”
she rolls her eyes but doesn't take a step back. she doesn't even move her hands from his chest. which is a bit of a problem because his heart is racing. 
“you okay?” she asks and he watches her brows furrow in concern. 
shit. shit. shit. he has to think on his feet, and the only thing he can’t do right now is focus! 
“just nervous about the show?”
it comes out more like a question, and he wants to kick himself for telling such an obvious lie. she knows he has played here like four times before. she knows he has everything rehearsed and ready to go, and whatever amount of nerves he might feel, they’re nowhere near enough to make his chest pound like this. 
she gives him a sceptical look and opens her mouth, about to say something, but someone calls her name. both their gazes snap to see another person on the staff, clipboard in hand, feet tapping impatiently. he feels an instant annoyance because how dare they look at her with anything other than adoration, but then his gaze snaps back to her. 
“i gotta go,” she gives him a small smile. “but good luck out there, you’ll be fantastic.”
he nods absently, like a pathetic idiot. 
“and,” she grins “wear that blue jeans more, will you? it really does look gorgeous on you.” before he knows what’s happening, she stands on her toes and presses a tiny kiss on his cheek. and just like that, she’s gone, running around the set once again. 
in a daze, his fingers come up to lightly touch his cheek. multiple neurons in his body are misfiring, and he feels a bit like he’s about to fall off a cliff. 
he wonders if he should follow her and kiss her hard enough that he will taste her for days. he wonders if she tastes like the cherry lip gloss she uses. then he worries that she’s just a friendly, affectionate person. and finally, he burns with envy that someone out there might be getting a real, proper good-luck kiss from her. 
“alright, mate?” his bassist appears, finally back from a cigarette break, and he has to stop himself from unloading everything on him. 
it’s ten minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage.
and now all he can think about is his blue jeans on her bedroom floor and cherry-flavoured lips. 
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minniesmutt · 7 months ago
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𝔇𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢: 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫
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♱ ━━━  PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━  CW: IMPLIED PREVIOUS ROUNDS, ORAL (F. REC), CLIT PLAY, UNPROTECTED SEX, MARKING, DDIRTY TALK, CREAMPIE, OVERSTIM ♱ ━━━  WC: 1.4K
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     Having a quiet night in the manor was almost impossible for Chan. Ever since he’d practically adopted seven vampires, the estate was never quiet. He wouldn’t have it any other way but sometimes he needed silence. Even when that silence was being laid on the floor next to the fire in his office, the floor covered with blankets and pillows with Y/n laying on top of him. Both nude and enjoying the skinship. 
     His hand ran down her spine as her gaze was fixed on the fire. Chan couldn’t help but smile at her. She seemed to feel his gaze and turned her head up to him. 
     “Can I be of your assistance, my lord?” Y/n smiled as she sat up a bit
     “Not at all,” Chan smiled before she scooted up and placed her kiss-swollen lips on his.
     Chan moved his hand up to the back of her head to keep her there as he kissed her back. Both smiled before Chan rolled them over so he was on top of her. His free hand slid down the side of her body, coming down to hang her leg off his hip.
     “Mhm, Chan,” Y/n said as she slightly pushed his chest.
     “Too much?” He asked as he looked over her in concern
     “No, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you about,” Y/n assured him as he sat them both up.
     “Right now?” He asked
     “It’s about me being here.”
     Chan sat back and pulled her onto his lap. “Is the courting too much?”
     “It’s nothing bad Chan. I promise. Can I speak before you start worrying?”
     “Sorry, of course.” Chan nodded as his hands held her hips
     Y/n took in a deep breath, “I want to stay once the debt is paid off.”
     Chan’s eyes went wide, “You want to stay here? Forever?”
     “If you’ll let me.”
     “What about you’re kingdom?”
     “My father is dying so the thrown will fall to me soon. Think I’ll figure it out when it happens. Right now, I know that I don’t want to leave any of you.” Y/n cupped his face as soothed over his skin with her thumbs
     “Is this truly what you want? To stay here with us? All of us?” Chan asked
     “Chan, I do not care where we are, I will always want all of you. Good and bad. No matter what. If I die loving you all, I’ll be happy.”
     “Love?” His face seemed to light up at that word
     “Yes, every single one of you has shown me so much love and how to love. Something I don’t think I could live without anymore. I love you, Chan. I love Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin with all equal capacity. I didn’t think I would find love in my life but you’ve all proven me wrong. I have never felt anything like what the nine of us have.” 
     Chan didn’t say anything else and pushed his lips back onto hers again with such vigor. Y/n— though a bit shocked— kissed him back with just the same vigor. Both pulled the other closer though they were already impossibly close.
     “I love you too Princess,” Chan muttered against her lips as he moved them back onto the ground, her back against the cushion of blankets and pillows. The room was already warm due to the open fire near them but the rushed moving of their bodies was making it feel hotter. “Stay with us for eternity.”
     “I will. No matter where we are,” Y/n told him before his lips left hers and moved neck to her chest.
     He moved further and further down her body. He pushed her legs up over his shoulders as his plump lips wrapped around her clit. Sucking on the bud as she grabbed his dark hair. The two had already gone a couple of rounds before he decided she needed a break and were just cuddling by the fire. Both were more than positive she could take him just fine but Chan rather play on the safer side. It was obvious as he sucked, licked, and kissed all over her cunt. 
     His hands held the top of her thighs as he prepped her again. Almost greedily too; more so doing this for his pleasure rather than hers. 
     His tongue prodded her hole a couple of times before he pulled away, moving her legs to spread her open for him. One hand held his cock as he pumped himself while the other laid against her lower stomach, thumb playing with her sensitive clit. 
     Her breath caught in her throat as he expertly pressed circles into her clit as he lined his dick at her entrance. Swiping the tip between her soaked folds while she rocked her hips against his hand slightly. 
     He pulled his thumb away and slipped inside of her with ease. Both moaning over the cackle of the fire. Chan leaned over her, resting his hands next to her head as they both got adjusted. He peered down between their bodies and slowly rolled his hips into her. Y/n pulled his lower body closer, wrapping her legs around his waist. Chan lifted his head and smiled at her. 
     He hadn’t pushed his full length into just quiet but the smile and look in her eyes killed him. He leaned down moved onto his elbows and pressed his lips onto hers as he bottomed out inside her. Y/n moaned, wrapping her arms around his waist, hands coming up his back to rest on his shoulders.
     Chan pushed his tongue into her mouth as he started thrusting in and out of her. Y/n kept her grip on his back. His pace was slow but firm. His cock rubbed against her walls perfectly and his tongue massaged her. Breaking momentarily so she could catch her breath before his lips were back on hers and his pace picked up a bit. Still firm but a bit faster, making her walls clench a bit around him. 
     “More,” Y/n mumbled against his lips
     “Didn’t fuck you good enough the last two rounds?” he chuckled as he picked up his pace. 
     “No— fucked me so good,” Y/n moaned as her nails dig into his skin. Chan smiled as his lips moved down to her neck, placing kisses along her neck and adding a couple of bruises to the collection the vampires had started on her neck  
     “Just needy, always wanting one of us inside you. Maybe another reason you want to stay.”
     Y/n hummed in response as his tip hit dead on her g-spot. Y/n arched into him and dragged her nails down his back. Chan adjusted himself back up onto his hands and aimed at the spot as she clenched around him. 
     Chan smiled as her head tilted back and her legs tightened around him. He moved one hand down to press against her clit again. The slightest pressure did it for her. 
     Chan watched her body convulse in pleasure. Watching her ride out her high as he continued thrusting into her. Smiling as she squirmed away from his thumb. 
     “One more darling,” Chan groaned as his own dick started twitching 
     “Channie,” Y/n whined
     Chan pressed harder against her clit, rubbing quicker, barely giving her time to come down from her previous high. Rocking inconsistently against him and clenching more and more. 
     “Fuck,” Chan muttered as he felt himself closer to the edge. 
     He pushed on as he brought her to her next high. Watching her eyes roll into the back of her head. Chan pulled his hand away, grabbed her hips with both his hands, and rutted into her, letting her ride out her orgasm until he came. Slowing his thrusts as his cum painted her insides. 
     Y/n’s chest rose up and down as she finally caught her breath. Chan pushed himself deep into her and then leaned back over her. “Still with me, darling?” he asked and pressed kisses on her cheek. 
     “Mhm,” Y/n replied 
     Chan pulled out and rolled back onto his back and brought her back to his chest, wrapping her up in his arms and a blanket. 
     “I meant what I said, darling.” Y/n looked up at him
     “Stay with us. I know I don't want to let you go once the debt is paid and I'm sure the others don't.” He stroked her spine as he smiled fondly at her. 
     “I don't want to leave either,” Y/n told him
     “Then don't.”
     “I won’t.”
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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months ago
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To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster! Reader)
Chapter 2: The men in his life
[part 0, 1, here]
CW: femme bodied GN Reader, vulgar language, mentions of abuse, infidelity, unintentional manipulation
Stepping out of the shower felt no different than stepping into it. The wetness was felt, as the water was absorbed into their skin, but just as they could not feel the cold outside, they could not take comfort in the warmth of a shower.
Their home was.. quaint. (Reader) had to learn the concept of an apartment from their newly adopted son (the disgust they felt when they looked out at the building and believed the family lived in a hotel was visible on their face), and although they had their reservations, it wasn't nearly as pathetic as they assumed it would be. They had lived in poverty before, in a space larger than this, however there was electricity and heating; there was more fresh food than (Reader) knew was possible of storing, there were plants and plenty of clothes. Everything was very advanced, and it seemed as though life was much easier to live than before (even if they needed assistance with activating the shower).
Leaving faint footprints on the fake wooden floor, (Reader) saw family portraits both hung up and in standing frames on random shelving. Avery sleepily teetered over towards the monster, instinctively reaching out to grab their hand.
"I... did a truly terrible job of recreating her."
"Hm?"
"I look nothing like your mother."
Avery's hand flexed open for a millisecond before squeezing tighter. His face was scrunched in confusion, like his inability to process his own emotions was upsetting him. "I'm okay with that."
I'm sure you are. (Reader) glanced from Luanne to the man smiling next to her. But will he?
"What is your father's name?"
"Michael."
(Reader) picked up the drowsy child. His hair still smelled like the woods. "Is he a good man?"
The boy sagged, melting into his new "mother's" arms. "I mean, yeah? Mom yells at him a lot though.."
His room was decorated with comic book posters and action figures on every surface. The bed felt luxurious to the monster, and the blanket was expertly made, with intricate characters dyed into the fabric. They would later learn that it was a mass produced comforter, but at that moment it made them wonder who bought such an obviously expensive bed set for a child. If it was the mother, then why? She seemed to despise her son. And if it was the father, then that seemed to be a sign of good luck for (Reader). A kind and loving husband would probably be more welcoming to a previously hostile wife if "she" suddenly became equally as kind and loving.
Avery's tired eyes became unfocused as (Reader) tucked him in.
"Will you still be here when I wake up?"
(Reader) thought of Luanne. Her slightly crinkled skin under her eyes in the photos on the walls. The bright red lipstick on the bathroom counter and the perfume bottle in the medicine cabinet that reeked like her jacket and the skin she owned as (Reader) tore open her body.
"Yes." They were beginning to feel that they were just as confused as Avery.
This family was just a cover. And this family would eventually be nothing more than a meal.
But despite that, they still sat on his bed until the child fell asleep.
(Reader) almost went to investigate their own bed, when the front door opened very softly and slowly. Someone was sneaking in. They calmly changed direction in the hall, silently entering the living room to meet their new husband, who was quietly attempting to remove his shoes.
The monster watched him, his awkward movements as his heart loudly beat in his white collared shirt, and they felt a sense of unease. This was, clearly, Michael. It was the same man from the photographs. So why was he tiptoeing into his own home?
Michael took a shaky breath, calming his anxious heart, when he turned around and saw his wife, nearly experiencing a heart attack.
"Jesus, Luanne! Why're you just standing there?" His tone was accusatory despite the warm smile he had on his face. "I'm sorry I'm late, I got held up by that prick Donnie. Made me stay late to fix some fuck up that the new kid made.."
As he, loudly, approached the monster posing as his wife, they could smell him; and suddenly everything made sense.
He didn't even blink as he stared into his wife's eyes. There was no flicker of discomfort, recognition in his expression.. Michael couldn't tell that there was something off about Luanne.
His shirt smelled like chemicals and fruit and plastic and alcohol.
He leaned in to kiss (Reader).
They were used to kissing humans.
They never once enjoyed it.
But it was something they had to do.
To blend in.
However, when Michael opened his mouth it wasn't just cheap wine (Reader) could smell. It was slightly acidic. And they reared their head away in disgust.
Of course a man like this wouldn't have ever noticed that his wife was abusing his son.
"Your breath smells like another woman's cunt." They still expected Michael to finally notice that they weren't his wife, but even after hearing their voice it didn't seem to phase him.
"..Not this again." He abruptly spun away. "I just got home after a long day, can you not act like a crazy bitch for five fucking minutes?!"
He tossed his keys onto the little table by the front door as aggressively as he could without "throwing" them.
"I work so hard for you and Avery, and all you do is complain. How is that fair to me? You promised you wouldn't bring this up again, and yet here you are-"
"Avery and I were in an accident today." (Reader) cut him off. They didn't really want any sympathy from him, they just didn't want to listen to his pathetic moaning.
Their words seemed to shock him out of his tirade. "What? Is he okay?"
"Yes. However, I have a concussion.. the amb-u-lance doctors said that it was normal to experience some mild memory loss." They hoped their face appeared sincere. "I'm sorry. I thought I smelled something.."
Michael didn't seem to notice that his wife's speech had changed drastically. He reached out in a sympathetic manner, cupping their face with his hand.
"If it's that bad, why didn't they take you to a hospital?"
Ah.
"They suggested I go if my confusion worsens or if I developed any new symptoms."
He sighed through a grimace. "Well.. I'm glad you're alright."
(Reader) contemplated eating him.
"I see you've already showered.. why don't you go to bed, I'll be there in a second?"
You disgust me.
"I'm going to lay down with Avery. I'm still a little shaken up after the accident."
"How did it-?" Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We can talk in the morning."
He reached out again to hold (Reader), and it felt like mold growing on their skin when he planted a kiss on their forehead. His grip was tight on their shoulders, as if to prove that he could kiss them whenever he felt like it and they had no choice.
No; Luanne had no choice.
(Reader) flashed him a smile. He only smiled back.
What a prick.
They silently left the cheating bastard and returned to Avery's bedroom, where they could hear from his breathing that he had woken up and was doing his best to pretend to sleep. "May I lay down for a while?"
He didn't respond but scooted over to make room on his twin sized bed. The child was so small that it didn't cause much cramping to lie beside him.
"Avery?" It was plain curiosity. But a curiosity that was not appropriate when taking to a child. "Why didn't your father stop Luanne?"
Avery opened his large baby like eyes, staring up at (Reader's) unblinking ones. "What do you mean?"
"Did he ever ask you about your bruises?"
"Yes." He answered automatically before pausing, trying to recall a time when his dad may have noticed how mean his mom could be, and realizing that there was none. Every argument they ever had was about them. They were never about him. "No."
(Reader) wondered why they were probing their son. Maybe, deep down the know what they were doing: driving a wedge between them so (Reader) could eat the boy's father without regret. Yet, it didn't feel that way. They wanted to know. They were curious.
"I am not a human."
"..I know."
"My sense of smell is much greater than yours. As is my hearing."
"Really?"
They pulled Avery into a hug, whispering "I can hear your father's heart from the kitchen."
Instead of fear, this revelation seemed to excite the boy. "Really?!" He theatrically whispered back.
"I can smell.. a raccoon outside, climbing a tree."
A small gasp before a "You are a hero!" squeaked out of Avery.
"Avery." Their voice turned serious. "I can smell another woman on your father."
His breathing hitched. "What does that mean?"
".. Your mother was a very bad person for what she did to you. And your father.. he should have noticed what was happening."
Silence thickened between the two. The concept that his father failed him settled into Avery's tiny, six year old brain. Everything felt very complicated, and it was wearing him down. He felt more exhaustion than he felt in a very long time. "Will you protect me?"
(Reader's) mouth moved before the thought formed in their mind. "Yes."
After a very loud, one sided argument about the trashed vehicle, the monster was taking their new boy to school via the city bus. They understood that a motorized carriage must have been expensive, but their survival felt more important. On top of the irritation from an unnecessary "conversation" with their "husband", it stressed out Avery, who appeared to be distant with his father.
The city bus stunk of piss. It was disgusting, but Avery seemed impressed.
"Mom, there's my school!" He jabbed the window, pointing at a very large building,
"Is this a private institution?"
"Inst- insti- tush- ...no, it's a regular school?"
His face lit up with pride when his mom complimented his school, "It's impressive."
That is what they said, however, after exiting the bus and entering the school grounds, there was a very stern looking man glaring at (Reader) from the steps. He was about Michael's age, shaved bald sporting thick framed glasses and was smartly dressed. Upon seeing his frightening stare, they gently squeezed Avery's hand to catch his attention. "Do I know that man?"
"Yeah, that's Mr. Knight.." Avery sounded very quiet. "He's the counselor. He came over for a visit a few weeks ago."
"Why?"
"I don't know?" He lied.
The serious man's face completely changed when Avery drew near, cracking into a large, lopsided and toothy smile. "Good morning, Mr. Avery! How ya doin?" His voice was impressively deep, but (Reader) was more impressed by the fact that they had just realized there were children and teachers of all races entering the same building. They allowed themselves to smile widely, feeling a moment that was close to satisfaction: having been so many people, it was like joy and revenge all at once to be in the future.
But their smile fell when they looked back at the counselor, and recognized the emotion plastered on his form.
He saw (Reader's) smile, and he could tell that it was different.
He was not like Michael, who was so blind to his wife that he did not notice the change; this man saw their smile, and felt the fear, disgust, confusion, and discomfort that humans felt when they saw a fake human.
The uncanny valley.
Mr. Knight visibly shuttered before returning to his previous anger. "Good morning, Mrs. Jones." He spat out the name like it was vinegar. "I see you're personally escorting your son today."
(Reader) focused on keeping their face neutral.
Avery responded before the creature could. "We got into an accident. The car is getting fixed, so we took the bus."
Worry filled his dark eyes, returning his attention to Avery. "An accident? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, but Mom hit her head."
The sympathy he expressed was so plainly fake that it felt spiteful. "Well. Hopefully your injury wasn't too severe?"
(Reader) smiled again.
It made perfect sense. This man hated Luanne, Avery's real mother. But that woman was dead.
"I'm feeling much better now, thank you."
He involuntarily shivered at their voice. Even though he had no way of knowing that the mother was actually an ancient boogeyman forgotten by time, he clearly could feel it.
And while they respected that there seemed to be one adult who cared for Avery, they recognized that Mr. Knight would potentially be a headache for them in the near future.
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star-centric · 13 days ago
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I’m currently suffering in my bed with a growing cold and just finished s1 of Wind Breaker and couldn’t get Togame out of my head 😩
CW: gender neutral reader, you and Togame are in your 20s, SFW!
“Say ahhhh.”
If you didn’t feel like you were dying, you probably would have entertained Togame. But your throat was sore, your head felt like it was on fire, and you could barely sit up with feeling dizzy. You turned your head away from the spoon, frowning at the smell.
“I’m not hungry.” You whined.
“But you still need to eat something.” He nudged the spoon closer and you could already feel another wave of nausea wash over you. “You can’t take medicine on an empty stomach.”
“Jo I said I’m-“ a coughing fit interrupted your whining, racking your body. “I’m not hungry.”
“I heard you before baby, but you still need to eat.” Togame stirred the soup, before placing it down and putting the cup of tea towards your lips. “At least drink a little bit for me.”
It wasn’t rare for him to be so gentle with you, but seeing firsthand how brutal he could be with others could give people whiplash. But you knew Jo would never hurt you, no matter how much blood would stain his hands.
You parted your lips, letting the warm tea sooth your scratchy throat with Togame’s assistance. You shivered, goosebumps littering your skin as chills ran throughout your body. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, sucking his teeth. “You’re burning up.”
“Jo don’t touch me, I don’t want to get you sick.” You rasped out. But all he did was smile, taking his tinted sunglasses off and helping you lay back down. You sunk into his touch and it was getting harder to stay awake, the movements taking the little energy you had. Togame wiped away at your sweaty forehead, and you were reminded of how bright his eyes are.
“Don’t fight your sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Togame softly spoke, and it didn’t take you long to pass out. He sighed, how could you still be worried about him when you’re the one falling ill? You always worried about others before yourself, it was in your nature he supposed.
He got up, already prepping your medicine that he was going to have to fight you to take. But he was keeping his word, making himself your sole caretaker until your cold passed.
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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months ago
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Edge Of Ever After | 5
Part 1 2 3 4
Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."
Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, mentions of pregnancy/fertility issues, sunshine x grump, enemies to lovers (to enemies ? HAHA), slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, horrible communication, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: im updating this on here solely because of @thatawkwardlittlefangirl's reblogs n tags. hi cutie i see you. i hope you enjoy!!! you reminded me i have to finish this story and i swear i will T_T. | cross posted on ao3
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"W-where are you going?"
"To find someone to bring my things downstairs," I huff as I gather my skirts and head for the door.
"I can bring them down!" he urges, making me turn to him as he grabs the bags and picks them from the floor. Sandor slings the satchels on him and grabs up the rest, looking at me for further instruction. I face front and exit the room. I feel him follow closely after me.
Once I get down, I am met with a busy first floor. I dawns on me at this moment that I probably looked distressed and teary eyed. I wipe my face and fix my hair. I make myself smile as I walk towards the front door, looking for Trysha or one of her sons.
The Hound follows after me. He stands beside me and I sidestep to keep a good distance between us.
He clears his throat but his voice still cracks, "I'll rea-dy the horses."
I do not watch him as he walks off; I hover by the open door to what I assumed to be the kitchen.
Just then, Trysha comes out carrying a tray of food. She beams at me and I pull my cheeriest smile in return.
"Anything you need, milady?"
I shake my head, "no. I simply wanted to say that we cannot wait for our laundry."
"Oh. But I-"
"If it is agreeable to you, we will come back for it on our return."
Trysha raises her brows and nods her head slowly, "of course, lady."
I press my lips into a smile, "Lord Clegane and I will take our leave. I thank you for your hospitality."
Trysha wishes to reply but she does not get the opportunity.
I head outside, feeling my chest tighten with sadness and resentment. I think of my pups; oh, how I long to have them doting on me, licking my skin, whining for my attention. How foolish I was for even finding a morsel of annoyance in them. I regretfully catch a glimpse of the Hound, who was buckling up his ride. My belly curdles.
I ignore him as I head to the stable. I take deep breaths to calm myself. I rub my horse's snout once I am close enough, imagining it was Sage, or Lilac, or Rose who I was petting instead. Not even a second later, my eyes water and my lips tremble. Perhaps I am greedy in wishing to have children of my own. Perhaps I was meant to only care for animals. Or perhaps I was not meant to be loved this way.
My horse neighs and nudges me. I slightly topple back, yet somehow the action soothes me.
"Need some help, lady?" a deep but chirpy voice asks.
I panic and sniffle, wiping my face in a hurry. Before I know it, a large man comes to my side, and it is made clear my smile does not hide my sorrow, as the expression of the man slips into concern when he gazes upon my features.
It was Ian that stood before me. It seemed he was in a good mood until he saw my face. It makes me feel even more dreadful than I already was.
I sniffle and offer a chuckle, "yes. I would appreciate the assistance." I wipe my face, "I'm terribly horrible at saddling on my own."
Ian examines my body, then looks past me. He hardens when he sees the Hound staring back at him. The said man is visibly on edge, in fact he looks distraught or even guilty. Ian clenches his fists and turns back to me, "are you well?"
I feign ignorance, and quickly realize my mistake at how the man clenches his jaw in return.
"Has he hurt you?"
I raise my brows at him and smile softly, "do not ask such silly que-"
"I'm not 'fraid of him, " Ian cuts me off, unabashedly glaring back at the perceived villain, "my brothers and I can ta-"
"Do not jest over such things," I blurt sternly, "you will not lay your hands upon my husband, do you understand?"
Ian turns to me.
"You must cease your talk of such gruesome horrors," I wave a hand, "it will do you well to practice peace."
"Peace is a pleasure only afforded by the rich, milady."
I shake my head, "I say to you, you will find less peace in riches. Greedy people are always in unrest."
My own words shatter my heart. I feel like a hypocrite. I feel like I am deserving of my predicament. I battle with my mind and thankful do not burst into tears. I manage to look back at Ian with a neutral expression.
We stare at each other for a moment. I offer him my hand and he takes it, finally helping me up my horse. He guides me up, then hoist me by my waist. In the simple action, I am made aware of his strength. I begin to wonder what the chances of him and his brothers against my husband were. I banish the thought.
Once I am sat upon my ride, I look down and press my lips into a smile, "thank you, Ian."
Ian looks up at me, nodding, "milady." He hands me my reins and brushes my horse's neck. He speaks softly, as not to be conspicuous, "are ye certain about your lord?"
My brows furrow slightly.
"Aye, it's not my business, but a woman should never weep."
My heart squeezes at his sentiment. I shake my head and reach out, placing my hand on his shoulder, "I weep for my pups."
Ian looks up at me.
"I have 3 that I left at home. I do miss them terribly."
Though it was not a lie, at least not entirely, it was clear that Ian did not believe me. He had made his mind up about what he would believe and so nothing but that can wipe away his doubt. And yet, Ian nods again then leads the horse out of the stable.
When I look up, I see the Hound already mounted on his own horse. We are reunited and my belly pinches and rolls at our proximity. I have to tell remind myself that the sooner we leave, the sooner I can ignore him. I cannot bring even myself to smile at him for show, or look at him for long, as tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I turn back to Ian instead and clear my throat before speaking, "I thank you again for your help, Ian."
Ian looks up at me.
"Your family's inn is a treasure. I pray the gods will grant you blessings and success."
"And I pray they give you peace, Lady Clegane," Ian replies, pulling away from my horse. He turns to Sandor, "may the Father punish the wicked those who wish you anything but."
The Hound's horse becomes restless.
I take this as a sign to begone. I spare Ian one last look before we ride off, "give your family my regards."
Ian bows. He offers me a smile. It drops and gis expression darkens when he turns to Sandor, who rides off before me to lead the way.
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Sandor enjoyed the quiet, but the quiet in this travel was unbearable. His head so badly wanted to turn over his shoulder to check on his wife, to make sure that you were still there, to see how you were doing, but he told himself the sound of your horse's hooves where enough. When he caught the sound of your soft mewls, your soft sniffles and whimpers, he knew he didn't deserve to look. He'd made you cry again.
Again. And again. And again.
And now the night began to cover the land. It didn't look like there would be any inns to chance upon anytime soon. When Sandor caught sight of a lake, he decided it would be good to stay here for the night.
"We'll stop here," the Hound says, not expecting a reply.
He leads his ride to the lake and dismounts. He rubs the creatures face and steals a glance your way. You were cautiously getting off your horse... struggling.
"Fuck," he mutters and purses his lips. He battles with himself on whether or not he should help you.
Fuck it. He goes up to you and helps you down. Thankfully, you do not protest, nor do you wrangle out of his touch. When you get on your feet, you mutter something he doesn't catch.
Again, he hesitates, but he manages to mutter, "what was that?"
You turn to him. It's wholly apparent you had been crying. He feels horrid.
"I-"
"Thank you," you struggle to say through a clogged nose.
He freezes.
"I want to bathe," you walk back.
Sandor nods, "I'll hel-"
"Do not follow me," you raise a finger.
That comes to him like a punch in the gut. He feels like his heart was being pierced in every which way. He watches as his love walks away from him. He watches as his wife goes to the lake. He watches as she undresses herself. He turns away when she sees the bare skin of her shoulder.
He decides to gather some firewood nearby, never straying enough that his lady was no longer visible. He is lucky to find enough twigs to build a fire. By the time he's set one up, the moon was shining down upon earth, leaving a glow. He has more than once seen your skin under moon light, but in this moment, he has to banish the thought, lest the temptation to see you becomes unbearable.
You sink into the shallow lake, looking up at the sky, gazing at the full moon. The water was cold, and you were being chilled to the bone, but you invited the numbing sensation; it matched what your mind felt. You only decide to get out because your teeth began to chatter.
Sluggishly, you emerge from the water and frown at the towel waiting for you beside your clothes. You look out to your husband and find that he is sat by the fire, back turned to you. You shiver and hurriedly wipe yourself down and get dressed.
Just as you were about to walk towards your camp- "Milady!" you hear from not too far off.
"Ian?"
Sandor gazes at the fire, lost in thought, lost in life. He contemplates how long it will take for him to be forgiven, if he is worthy to be forgiven at all. He wonders how calloused he must be not to foresee the hurt it would stab upon your heart. His turmoil makes his head heavy, literally; he so badly wishes to shut his eyes and sleep, yet he cannot bring himself to do anything about it. And then, he hears whispers.
He brushes it off, thinking perhaps you were speaking to yourself. But then he the voices gets louder, and soon be realizes you were speaking to someone.
The Hound looks over his shoulder and sees you speaking to a large man. Immediately, his sleepiness if washed away and he is overcome with fight instincts. His face contorts as he grabs his sword and marches over to you.
Once he is close enough, he recognizes the man you were speaking to. It was the man from the inn, from the fucking stables. He draws his sword out of its sheath, immediately on the offense. His vein nearly pops when the stupid cunt readies to unsheathe his own weapon.
"Stop it!" you exclaim, walking towards him to press your hand on his chest.
Sandor's gaze is fixed upon you. Your hateful expression makes his brows knit in hurt.
"Both of you!" you snap to the other, "go home, Ian."
The Hound's anger flares, "the fuck is he even doing here?!" he steps forward, "how long have you been following us?"
Ian steps forward as well, but you also push him back, "stop it-"
"I know men like you," Ian mutters with venom, "you go 'round doing and takin' what pleases you because no one can stop you."
"Oh," the Hound chuckles dryly, "and will that-"
"STOOOOP!"
The two of them turn to you after let out the gut curling scream. You heave as bitter tears cloud your eyes and streak down your face. They both watch as you crumble into tears.
"Or perhaps I should just let you kill each other?!" you quip, "it's not like you're doing this for me because here you are saying you want to protect me but do not wish to listen to me, and you are doing the same in the name of love or whatever you fool yourself to believe it is! No, you fools only listen to yourselves because you can only love yourself!"
Needless to say, the two are frozen where they stand.
Ian is the first to try and explain himself. It falls deaf to your ears, and eventually he is off with his tail between his legs. As much as the Hound is pleased to see him go, he is not content to turn away until he is no longer in view. That is, until he notices you shaking with anger and frustration. He calls out your name carefully.
You hiss, "I've told you my piece," then shake your head slowly, "I do not have the energy to continue."
"I know," he grabs your arm, "but I-'
The sound of your sigh dries up his words. In this moment, he realizes your arm is limp in his clutch. You are not fighting him off because you are exhausted. That stupid fuck... he was right.
He releases you, "forgive me, I-"
"Tomorrow."
He clenches his jaw.
"We shall speak tomorrow. Tonight we sleep."
You stare at each other for what feels like forever. He nods, "good n-"
You walk past him, heading towards the campfire.
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Sandor and I eat in silence. We were now at the nearby port eating freshly baked bread from a bakery in the marketplace. I promised him we would talk after breaking fast so that my hunger would not get ahead of me. I was rather prone to irritation when I had an empty stomach. Presently, we sat on the stairs just by the one of the docks, watching men come in with their catches of fish or imports.
I savor the last bit of bread I have before turning to Sandor, who had long finished his share. He turns to me, then back to the splashing waves. He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat.
"Sandor," I start, releasing a sigh.
He turns back to me. He carefully speaks my name.
"Our beginnings were... unpleasant," I mutter lowly, not trusting my voice enough to speak moderately, lest it break, "our union was borne from the mockery of King Joffrey and yet... here we are." I turn to my hands and rub them together, "I am your wife. My duty is with you, but-"
Sandor's throat constricts when the explanation is cut short.
I turn to him and feel like retching. It's as though there is rock that wishes to dislodge itself from my mouth. It takes a few long, gruelling moments for me to finally speak up, "Sandor, I care deeply for you."
Sandor faces body towards me
My eyes begin to water as we stare at each other, "I love you so terribly that the suggestion that you do not feel the same makes me want to rip the hairs on my head."
His face slips. He hesitates. His hand twitches. He tries to reach out for me but he decides against it. He purses his lips, "I would die for you."
My brows furrow. Tears fog my vision, "that is not the same as lov-"
"I love you," he blurts through a whisper, "and little else."
"Do you think I want your love for me to kill you?" I mumble as sadness overtakes my expression, "do you think that I want you to suffer for my sake?"
He takes a second but he slowly shakes his head.
"I want you to live for me," I squeeze his arm, "live with me. I want to know your woes. I want to help- and- and-... I want you to help me," I pinch my fingers and turn to my lap, "I don't want you chose for me because you think it's better, no more that you'd want me to do the same."
Sandor feels his chest tighten. He wants to speak but he does not.
I look up at him, cheeks wet with salt, "I don't want to be... alone when we're together... I don't want us to continue playing games for each other's sake when neither of us will enjoy the fruits it'll bear. I do not want us to assume our own suffering will benefit the other."
He feels like he is being eaten from the inside out. He hesitates to touch me. I take his hand and place it on my cheek, "embrace me when I weep... I beg of you."
The Hound no longer thinks twice. He reaches for me, arms coming around me body. He pulls me onto his lap and holds me against him. I slip between his thighs and bring my face into his neck. I take in his warmth, his scent, his feel. He rubs my arm and mutters softly, "my poor wife... forgive me."
I pull my head back and frown. His cheeks are damp and I wipe them dry, "forgive me, my poor husband."
Sandor sniffles, "I do not like hurting you."
"Neither do I," I sigh and frown, "perhaps we are doomed in tragedy."
He brushes my hair behind my ear, "perhaps I am your tragedy."
I swipes my lips when they wobble. 
A line forms between his brows.
"Your unkindness to yourself is just as painful as your unkindness to me," I whine, "if you are my tragedy then I am yours. What else have I done but vex and burden you?"
Sandor rubs my arms, "you have made me a home."
My heart races. My breath catches in my throat.
"You are my home," he adds just as I mutter the exact words back to him.
A moment passes of us simply taking each other's sad expression before we break into soft chuckles. Sandor leans his forehead onto my shoulder and kisses my collarbone. I turn to him and kiss his lips.
"From now on, do not make your mind before speaking it to me," I say, "and I will not make mine before speaking it to you. Agreed?"
Sandor pulls me into a tight hug and nods against my neck, "agreed."
I embrace him back, but gasp when I hear a bell tolling. A loud announcement that one of the ships will be leaving makes me break away from him and get to my feet. Sandor immediately follows suit and grabs our things as I hurry over to the ship heading for Volantis.
Only it's not the ship heading for Volantis and one headed to Lannisport.
I freeze in my place and turn to Sandor, who was already looking at me. I wipe my face and give a guilty look, "forgive me. I thought-"
"We should get more bread while we're waiting. I'm still hungry."
I purse my lips and nod. I take his arm and we both head back to the bakery.
Sandor is conscious of my hold on him, "do like holding me while walking?"
His question makes me tense, "I do. W-why? Do you not like it?"
"I like it," he secures my hand on his arm, "I just have never walked like this before. Normally, I walk 5 paces behind."
I let out a breath of relief, "well, you will not need to do that with me, not unless you want to."
"I do not."
I nod, "I am glad. I do not want you so far from me either."
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It did not take long after we bought some more bread for us to board the ship. Sandor and I managed to hitch a ride with a trader that was set for Volantis.
Upon boarding, we were brought below the ship, along with the rest of the other passengers who wanted to hitch a ride. In truth, the area was not so bad; it did smell of market, of animal and vegetables, but it was nothing too foul. And yet, it didn't take long for my stomach to begin to react, and my ever-so-keen husband immediately caught on to my affliction.
We had settled ourselves by some crates, apart from the other passengers, but not so far away that we were isolated. Sandor had prepared a makeshift bed for me that we were both presently sat on. I was trying to take a nap but my fussing had turned his bored expression into that of concern.
"Squirrel?" he mutters, shifting to face me.
I ignore him and rest my head on his arm.
His brows furrow, "are you uncomfortable?"
I grunt, "I'm bored."
It's clear he does not believe me, given the fact he pushes my hair away and examines my face. Just as he was speak again, my stomach makes a sound and I slap my hand on my mouth.
"Are you seasick?" he asks, taking my wrist, rubbing it with his thumb.
I look at him and bite my lip. I shrug and rub my nose, "I have been on ships before. I did not get seasick... I think, perhaps, it is the smell."
Sandor knits his brows.
"Do not worry. I will eventually get used to it."
I rub his hand, soothing both him and I with the action.
He does not seem soothed though, and soon, I am craning my neck up to look at him as he stands. I furrow my brows then widen my eyes when he hands me his sword.
"I-"
"Stab anyone that gets too close."
"Sando-"
"I'll talk to the captain."
I watch him walk off in confusion. It was not like there was anywhere else we could go on the ship. What could he possibly need to talk to the captain about?
"Is he your ward, lady?" a voice asks from not too far to my left. I turn and see a middle aged woman and her two kids, sleeping on her lap.
I smile at her, "he is my lord husband."
 Her face falls in shock, "he is?"
My face scrunches in offence at her shock, but I decide not to answer in hostility. I pull a smile and bring Sandor's sheathed sword into my chest.
"May the lord of light grant you peace in your marriage," she says.
I turn away from her and scoff under my breath at the implication I did not already have peace... And what if I don't? My marriage is none of her concern.
A few moments of silence later, I feel my stomach reacting again, so I try and will myself to sleep. I lean against our bags and bury my face into the clothes to mask the scent of the area. It doesn't help though; I only feel suffocated. I sit up once I hear heavy footsteps approaching.
Sandor reemerges and immediately reaches a hand out for me once he is close. I look up at him and take his hand. He helps me stand then grabs our bags and his sword. We wordlessly walk off and find ourselves back on the deck. I look at my husband's broad back and take in the smell of sea salt. It doesn't really refresh me as much as I hoped. I frown when he seems to head off to other stuffy room of the ship. I take in a deep breath as Sandor opens the door for me.
I let out my breath in surprise when I see the room is not, in fact, another part of the hull, or whatever you call the bottom part of the ship, and instead, someone's personal quarters.
I turn to Sandor as he closes the door and puts our things down. It doesn't take long for me to figure this was probably the captain's room, based on the maps. "Are we going to speak to the captain?"
Sandor steps forward, and just then, a rough wave hits the ship. We quickly grab each other for balance. His hands squeeze my arms and my hands grip the sides of his shirt.
The towering man looks down at me and states for a moment. He takes a deep breath and rubs my arms, "you're so beautiful."
I raise my brows at this and pout when I see his solemn expression. I walk forward and press against him. I rub his belly, "thank you, puppy."
He embraces me and presses his cheek on the top of my head, "I've missed you."
I frown and tighten my arms around him, "forgive me."
"Forgive me," he mutters, "I don't like upsetting you."
I look up at him, "I am no longer upset," I brush his beard, "and, if it means anything, I know, deep down you mean well... even when what you think is well ends up hurting me-"
"I am s-"
"-hurting us," I caress his cheek.
I can already feel him about to apologize, so I stop him before he can speak by sealing his lips with mine.
His reaction is immediate. His hands rub down my back and he bends down to deepen our kiss. Before I know it, he's picking me up and lying me on the bed. Soon, my skirt is pushed past my knees and he's slotted between my legs.
My heart begins to race when he kisses down my neck, but that's when I remember where we were. I gasp and push him off, "Sandor!'
The Hound's eyes widen as he pulls back.
I sit up, "we cannot here," I sit up and fix my skirt. I look around the bed, "if we were to get caught-"
"We're not going to-"
"Why did you wish to speak to the captain anyway?" I move off the bed, hands coming to his shoulders, "I don't think he can give us a room if there are no rooms to give."
Sandor pulls me into him by my waist, "that's why I bought his room."
"You what?" I raise a brow.
He brings his face into my neck and kisses my pulse, "I would not let my poor squirrel suffer."
I brush my hands up his face as he frowns, "not any more."
I rub his cheeks, "my love, I do not suffer because of you. Twas the smell... and frankly," I rub my belly, "I fear it still lingers."
He rubs my sides, "are you still uncomfortable?"
"I feel like perhaps any moment I could retch, and yet I won't, which makes it worse."
"I can distract you," he offers firmly then whispers, "please."
I chuckle under my breath and brush our noses together, "what if I vomit on you?"
"Then I'll eat it up like the dog I am," he kisses my cheek, making me laugh.
"Oh, my lord. If I vomited as we coupled, I fear I would never want to couple with you again."
Sandor pulls away, face stunned.
I chuckle and, as if to prove a point, my stomach begins to churn and I feel queasy. I pull away from him and lie on the bed. I pat the area beside me, beckoning him over, "perhaps you can tell me a story."
The bed dips as Sandor comes to my side, "I'm not a story teller, and I fear my stories will only make your soft belly sicker."
I roll over and press myself on him, our chests were now against each other, "what about your travels? Surely you've been tasked to travel to places unknown to the likes of me."
He brushes my hair back, "most of what comes to mind are grubby and bloody memories."
I frown, "forgive me. I do not mean to bring back such scenes."
"Speak no apologies. In fact, I should thank you. You've changed that for me," he brushes my lips, "you've changed that."
I press my lips into a line, "... would you like to know about where I grew up?"
"Brownwood?"
I shake my head, "no, with my aunt and uncle, where I met Lucy."
He grunts, "mmm, let me guess, you found Lucy in a filthy alleyway on your way home to your uncle's pretty castle?"
"..."
He brings one hand behind his head and raises his brow, lips curved up in amusement, "hit the nail on the head with that one, aye?"
A line forms between my brows, "Lucy was sold to a brothel as a child."
Sandor's face goes blank.
"I met her I was eight," I tilt my head, "did you know she's a winter younger than I?"
He opens his mouth and slowly trails off, "no."
"All my cousins were boys and they were all much older than me. I had expected them to treat me like my brothers but they were too caught up in squiring and roughhousing to play dollies with me," I pay his chest, "and no, I did not find her in a filthy alleyway. I was picking flowers and she had been hiding in the bushes. She was on the run."
A guilty expression forms on Sandor's face.
I smile to myself, "in truth, I was very selfish. I saw her and spoke to her about dollies then decided I would take her home with me. I hid her in my room and bathed her and fed her so that I could have someone to play with," I chuckle, "it was a wonder I hid her as long as I did, considering her blabbermouth."
He snorts in amusement and rubs my arm.
"I was so afraid my aunt would throw her away if she was caught, but the gods kept us together. She has been my dearest friend for as long as I can remember. I am forever responsible for her, so..." I draw circles on his chest, "be kind to my Lucy."
He knits his brows and takes my hand.
I watch him as he kisses my knuckles.
"She is an annoying creature."
I grumble, "Hound."
"I will do my best to tolerate her."
I sigh, "very well."
"She has guarded you just as well as you have guarded her. I am glad you found each other."
I feel my stomach curdle when a wave makes the room teeter. I groan and bury my face into his neck, "your turn... please."
He wraps his arms around me and hums. He thinks and rubs my back, "I... rode a horse in a field once."
"Just once?"
"... many times, actually."
"Mmm..." I release a breath, "what were the flowers there that one instance?"
"... uhh... there were no flowers."
"Where were you going?"
"... somewhere ..."
"... I see... Were you meeting someone?"
"... I... I don't remember... I think I- ... no..."
I wrap my arms around him, "a lovely tale, husband."
"... the horse was brown."
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hiskillingjar · 2 months ago
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Dumb/Bimbofication (Strade/MC)
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one of my top kinks that i totally overthought and ruined for myself for like two weeks lol, but the purpose of this challenge is to NOT overthink. STUPID. dumb. why are you so dumb, huh? i know you like being dumb, but just try to think for even a second, okaaaaay? :3
day 30: dumb/bimbofication second person. cw for incredibly dubious consent. please actually go to college. or don’t. i’m not your dad.
"Ooh! You've got a student ID in here. What, trying to keep all those discounts even after you've graduated? You naughty thing."
You whimpered very quietly, your voice like the shivering mewl of a dying animal, as Strade sifted through your purse. 
He tossed aside your personal effects flippantly, pocketing any cash you had stuffed between the folds (what little you did have), and flicked through your numerous credit and loyalty cards carelessly, covering the basement floor with remnants of the life you had before him.
If you could even call this a life.
"Nooo, hang on, this is pretty up to date," He then said after a beat, his features narrowing as he took a closer look at your ID, before his eyes went back up to yours, a dark brow raised in a silent question. "You haven't graduated yet?” He grimaced, but it was a sympathetic expression that didn’t suit him in the slighest. “Yeesh, you're a little too old to be at university anymore, aren't you?"
"I'm...a-a grad student," You murmured, idly licking your bloody lips (you refused to drink anything he had offered you and you were sorely regretting that decision now) and casting your gaze downwards, not wanting to look at him. "I...um, I teach sometimes, too…guest lectures, that sort of thing…"
"You're a teacher?" He asked, raising his brow.
"Teaching assistant," You corrected him, before looking back down. "Um...I'm...working on a PhD...in, um," You bit your lip, cringing slightly at the dramatic irony. "...Criminal psychology."
"Criminal-HAH!" He cut himself off with a hearty guffaw, a deeply indulgent smile spreading on his face, clearly thrilled by your discomfort. "Wow, what are the chances?! Hey," He sat forward with another laugh, pushing himself closer towards you. "If you survive this," If. "This'll be a great inclusion in your essay, won't it? They'll give you that fancy degree on the spot!"
Your lip trembled and you looked down again, trying to hold yourself together (trying not to burst into tears) and not think too much about the fact he said 'if you survive'.
If.
You'd read countless books, journals and articles about guys like Strade, the rare sadist (who were not so rare, with one in ten people identifying with sadistic traits, according to university study) who didn't channel his desires into relationships with vulnerable girls or tearing people apart online, but actually did something about it. 
You should know how to deal with situations like this. And you did, on paper anyway.
Theory rarely worked as well, in real life, as they did on paper.
"Hmph," He chuckled, looking back down at the student ID before he tossed it aside (and even that stung a little). "I’m not being fair…it’s impressive, really! You must be pretty smart, huh?" His expression softened slightly, golden eyes sparkling with mirth, before he reached out and ran a hand through your hair. "How lucky for you...beautiful AND clever. Most people only get graced with one of those features, you know?"
You didn’t say anything, but you let your head follow his touch, a tear beading down your cheek.
You thought it best to play along, at least a little, and not piss him off anymore than you had to.
You did want to survive this, after all.
Strade let out a huff through his nose and gently (as gently as he could manage) brushed the tear away with his thumb, before his fingers wrapped around your chin and he forced you to look up at him again. 
"I don't think smarts are good for much, though," He said cryptically, canting his head to the side with a strange sort of smirk. "Not in a situation like yours."
He then pushed his free hand through your hair, and forcefully slammed your head back against the support beam you were propped up against. 
"HNGH-!"
Without time to prepare or adjust, you could feel your eyes widen and bulge out your skull, straining against your fragile eyelids, and your teeth rattle (you even wondered if he’d knocked something loose with the force of the slam), and a wound opened on the back of your head, near instantly, weeping and red, blood running down the back of your neck.
"NGH, s-stop!" You yelped, planting bound up hands (flattened into parcel-tape wrapped mitts, so you could move but not much else) against his chest and trying to push him away.
He laughed callously as you struggled against him, but he stayed where he was, bringing his free hand up and tapping your forehead with a finger.
A condescending little gesture that made your insides twist uncomfortably.
"How about you stop thinking first?" He said.. "It's like I said already, fraulein, smarts aren't gonna help you, and smart people like you,” He tapped your forehead again. “You always think too much. So, stop using that thing in your head, hm?"
"Mmf," You sniffled, soft and pathetic sounding, from the pounding pain, even more tears running down your burning cheeks, as he shoved your head back against the support beam again, your head throbbing and oozing with blood the more he fucked with you. "Stop, please-"
"Come on, I alread told you what I want!" He said, somehow outraged, with a tut and a shake of his head. "Mein gott, it's really so easy. Just switch that brain off and focus on being...mm, cute, hm?” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself when your flushed cheeks flushed someohow darker. “After all, I don't think you're really cut out for this…ah, psychologist business, are you, fraulein?"
He reached out, running a finger down your face, before smirking and tilting his head. 
"You know better than I do, you have to keep your emotions in check when you're dealing with criminals like me, sweetie. You need to stay calm if you want to think clearly. Didn't they teach you that in all those classes of yours?~"
He unexpectedly (totally expetedly, you were just too out of it to think right) slammed your head back into the beam, knocking your brain around even more, as another rivuloet of blood ran down the small of your back and trickled on the cement floor.
"Stop iiiit, stop thinking!" Strade teased, grinning lecherously, despite his evident frustration. as he leaned into you, bringing his mouth close to your ear. "Come ooon, you already know that you're not getting out of this, don't you? What are you clinging onto all those smarts for?” You felt the caress of his tongue run over the shell of your ear, and your grimace just set deeper. “You might even like dumbing down a little."
He snicked again, his tongue tracing the line of tears on your flushed cheek, as his fingers, sticky with the blood oozing from your head. trailed down your heaving chest.
"I know I'll like it, anyway."
"Hhhh," You let out a deep exhale when he finally let go of your hair, your head sinking down to your thighs, barely able to support yourself.
Your head was hurting so badly. 
You just wanted to be left alone. 
"Heh, good for you. You're pretty stubborn!" He said, like he was paying you a compliment, moving closer to your slumped form for a moment. "They teach you that in your fancy college? How to put up with torture, threats, rape, that sort of thing? Sounds like a class I'd like a whole lot…"
Strade pushed himself to his feet with a soft 'hup!', then, and paced over to his workbench, openinhg one of the drawers with a metallic clatter.
"Well, if you won't respond to violence...I think I know another way to, ah...turn your brain off, so to speak."
He rifled through the drawer for a moment before he produced what looked like a...egg vibrator.
Your head was still swimming from his pain, but your eyes widened, dreadfully wide (with dread being the operative word) and you forced yourself to sit up as he paced back towards you, smirking like a Devil at the clear fear in your expression. 
"Ah, I know that look," He grinned as he took the knee in front of you again, moving his foot (the thick sole of his boot) over your ankle and pinning it still against the basement floor. “Mm, maybe they don’t prep you for rape, like I thought they did…might want to talk about that with those professors if you get out of this one, liebling~”
"Ngh, no, no-" You grimaced as his free hand forced your thighs to part.
"Now, I'm not usually one to do this sort of thing.” He started, like you hadn’t said a thing. “I've got a buddy who's way more into this stuff then I am, but, ah," He raised his eyes to yours, his expression giving away an eleation that made your stomach churn. "I'm getting the sense that a geek like you isn't so familiar with the more...intimate sides of things, hm? Sooo, maybe I should use that to my advantage?"
“Nononono,” You grit your teeth with erratic fear, trying to guard yourself with your taped up paws, but he was stronger than you (and not dazed out of his mind), and was able to overpower you with ease, pinning your hips backwards and forcing the egg into the gusset of your underwear. “No, Strade, please-!”
"And hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you’re not a total prude like I thought, but…no offence, but you don't seem to be a very popular kind of girl," He teased with a shit eating smirk. "With your head in the books all the time, I'm guessing you didn't have much time to be...social, huh?” 
He kneeled between your spread legs then, forcing them to open to accommodate him and only pushing you more open.
“Well, no worries. I'll teach you how to have a good time...and turn off the brain for a few minutes, too."
“NGH!”
You took in a sharp inhale as the toy buzzed to life (where was he even hiding the remote?), the initial sensation unfamiliar and uncomfortable, especially when combined with your throbbing head.
"Mph, see, there we go," He muttered approvingly, his golden eyes focused on the way your face was twisting into a grimace, your legs trying to close around him as the buzzing continued, relentless, rubbing against parts of yourself that even you hadn’t touched. "Now, that's a better expression. You don't have to think about that big scary brain of yours, now, do you? You get to just...let yourself be dumb for a while."
His free hand let go of your thigh and gently brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek. 
"Doesn't that feel better? Doesn’t it feel nice to be…away from whatever life you were living before?” He tilted his head, giving you a considered expression. “You don't have to think about those grades, those classes...all those books. Sounds like a real drag, doesn't it? You get to just enjoy the feeling for a little while, okay?"
"Okaaayyy..." You drawled, squeezing your eyes shut as your shaking hands sank down to your sides, the sensation from the buzzing toy simulationusaly overwhelming and...incredibly pleasurable.
You didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling like this.
When did other people learn about this?
"Heh, that's a good girl," Strade murmured with a filthy grin, leaning in closer to you, rubbing his thu,mb over your cheek. "That’s much better. Now, you get to just be a cute little thing for me, don’t you? You don't have to think about a thing. You don't get to worry about your studies, your job, your family...anything like that.” 
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“You just focus on being...sweet, and pretty, and dumb. Can you do that for me? Hmmm?~"
"Uh huuuh," You breathed out, your tight expression relaxing a little as he used the egg to massage between your wet folds, teasing a node just above your dripping hole that made you see stars. "Oh, that's good...nhh..."
"Mhmm, see? You’re feeling good," Strade chuckled, taking in the sight of you with an indulgent sigh, indulging in the way your expression was slowly relaxing and transforming under his touch.  "So good, you became a cute, little idiot for me without me even trying. Hah!”
He increased the intensity slightly, watching your expression intently.
“You're liking being a little puppet for me, aren't you? You enjoying this, even if you’re pretending otherwise. Hnn…” He grinned against your cheek, breathing you in. “You like it when I make you feel like this, all mindless and dumb for me? Come on, let me hear how much you like it."
"Oh, god-!" You gasped, pressing your sweaty, tear streaked face against his shoulder (leaving a wet print on his shirt as you did so).
He chuckled kindly, not seeming to mind, and placed a hand to the back of your head, forcing your face closer.
"That's it, baby doll," He cooed encouragingly, circling the tip of the egg in a tight little circle against your cunt. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Nice and intense? You don't have to use that head for a damn thing anymore. All those hours studying, thinking, trying to use that brain...well, it got you into some trouble all right, didn't it?” He pet your hair slowly, like he was petting an animal. “Don’t let yourself get upset again, though. It could have happened to anyone…you’re just lucky enough that it happened to you, aren’t you?”
"Mmhmm," You nodded (as best you could), biting your lip hard as you felt your brain (figuratively) start to slur in your aching, bleeding skull and…leak out of any available hole it could.
Maybe it would be better if you just submitted to him.
That's what all your classes told you to do, wasn't it? To...submit to what the criminal wanted, to play along, act dumb and pliant and easy, even if that meant losing yourself completely.
That had to be it.
"Good girl," He praised, his lips pressed against your ear again so you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Behaving so well, now, aren’t you? You just needed someone to help you feel good, and now…all those big thoughts you had before are just...slipping out of your head.”
“Mmhmm~”
“It's so much easier for someone like you, isn't it? Being a brainless, little doll? So easy to just listen to my every word and do exactly what I tell you? You can just...sit back and enjoy the feeling…you don't even have to think about it. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it, liebling?"
Yeah.
Submitting would be the smart thing to do. 
"Hmph. So much for college, right?~"
61 notes · View notes
strawberrystepmom · 9 months ago
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pairing: Toshinori Yagi x F!Reader -> Mirio Togata x F!Reader
word count: 7.8k
contents: Canon divergence for final war arc and beyond, friends to lovers with history, reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is a support equipment safety consultant, reader is 29 and Mirio is 30, appearances from other heroes (Deku & Bakugou and they are married, in their 20's)
cw: major character death and discussions of aspects of caretaking for someone at the end of their life, discussions of loss and grief
notes: This idea could not have come to fruition without my most beloved @izvmimi and @bakvrue so thank you to them for always being the very best. I have really been having a Mirioaissance lately and as you all know I love Mr. Might so here goes. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3
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“I’m dying.”
Mirio Togata nearly chokes mid-swallow, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent droplets of tea from seeping out of his lips. It’s a rare Wednesday day off for Lemillion and sunlight pours into the expansive room used as an office at. He’s a guest in the home of one of the most prolific heroes of all time, as he often is, though today he was invited by the man himself instead of showing up to pop in and say hello.
All Might, Toshinori Yagi, is dying.
Technically he has been for years though hearing it from the man’s own mouth feels different than the vague conversations about ‘terminal’ and ‘incompatible organs’. 
“No,” the younger man starts but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him, shaking his head with a chuckle.
It’s no secret he has been rapidly looking more and more frail as autumn faded into winter which is now melting into the bright green of spring.
“It’s true. No matter how many times you tell me ‘you can get better’ or ‘medical technology is improving’ it will not change the fact that my time has a finite number on it.”
There has been a finite amount of his life remaining for a very long time, he’s simply managed to dodge it for as long as possible. Running away from the truth is no longer an option, the years he has been given since the War and its finish already leaving the man feeling like a perpetual cheat. He was supposed to die then, and then after that, and then again and again and again…
There are no more ducks and dodges left in him. 
“Midoriya knows and has accepted it. It’s time for you to do the same.”
The words would be harsh coming from anyone other than a beloved mentor turned friend though Yagi has always had the natural ability to soften blows when necessary. Mirio nods, blue eyes trained toward the ground and refusing to meet those of the man in the comfortable chair next to him. He dares to take a peek at the man who will forever be known as All Might, the thinness of his hands and arms and wrists alone a surprising sight. Time has run out. No medical science or quirk or act of God can reverse the inevitable. A transplant cannot save him, medicine will not save him, and he’s made the decision to be as comfortable as possible over the remaining weeks to months he has left. 
Togata’s mind unconsciously drifts to you in all of this. You are the young woman who has devoted the latter half of her twenties to taking care of this iconic man, tending to his illnesses and the complications from them with a smile and a joke, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. The younger of the pair has witnessed this kindness himself on more than one occasion and he remembers when you were simply a Support course student at UA high school a year younger than Mirio himself. You assisted with equipment in the war and it has followed you through your adulthood, your support item safety consulting business thriving and helping build a safer world.
The way you care about everyone is so admirable, it’s difficult not to view you as a hero in all of this. Mirio raises a brow and balls his hands together into a fist, letting it rest in his lap. 
“How does she feel about, well, everything?”
It’s a daring question to ask given the older man is well aware of the younger man’s affection toward you no matter how discreet he thinks he is about it. It’s the perpetual elephant in the room.  Toshinori sighs, shifting in his chair and positioning his hands in his lap. Mirio’s eyes dart from them and toward the older man’s sallow face, noting the hint of a smile at the mention of you. 
“She was the first person to know. It’s the least I could give her for wasting her youth on a sorry old man like me.”
Togata offers a tight smile and tilts his head to the side. The self deprecation isn’t anything new, it has been like this the last several years, though it never sits well when the man he has attempted to pattern his own morals over says something so blasphemous about himself. 
“That’s a pretty downer way to look at things, All Might.”
This gets a chuckle from the older man, the sound of his head shaking against the back of his chair causing the younger one to look up at him curiously. 
“It’s a pretty downer thing to die but telling you it’s coming isn’t the only reason I asked you here today.”
The older man clears his throat, wiping his thumb against his bottom lip and looking away, joining his hand in his lap. How can he properly phrase what he’s asking his young friend to do without it seeming sordid and disrespectful? He’s leaving you his legacy when he goes. His home, his royalties that will keep you well taken care of for the rest of your life and, well, he’s planning on leaving Mirio Togata the one gift he deserves the most - you. 
He simply lays the plot down, hands still folded in his lap.
“How long have you loved her, kid?”
Mirio feigns shock that his mentor, the one who came after the one he lost years ago, is onto him. He has always played off his affection for you as friendliness and lingering glances as simply curiosity and assumed he has been doing it well enough that nobody notices.
“It’s not like that.”
Toshinori laughs, a weak cough wracking his body and he raises his fist to his grinning mouth to cover it. Mirio leans forward in his seat, reaching for the man who waves him off and instead leans to grab the bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk next to him. 
“You are a grown man, Togata. Own up to it. It’s not going to offend me.”
There was no expectation of a trip down memory lane set for the younger man prior to arriving for this visit yet his mind launches into years of fuzzy and undefined memories. Evenings he’d come to visit you in the Support course workshop when he was younger with fewer scars covering his arms and torso, the few times in your early twenties you sat thigh to thigh with him in dimly lit izakaya hanging out with your mutual group of friends and their respective partners who are also heroes. He remembers too much and too little at the same time, skin crawling. 
Shifting in his seat, he unclasps his hands and claps them against his thighs. 
“A long, long time.” He finally responds and Toshinori chuckles in response, leaning back in his own chair and sliding one of his hands out toward Mirio. “Since I was in high school.”
The truth doesn’t hide forever. It makes him feel childish that he was so easily caught by the older man, replaying years of interactions in his head. Did he smile a little too wide at you? Glance a little too long? Pine a little too openly?
There is no way for him to change anything that has happened before now and the usually easy going man tensely lifts his head, meeting Toshinori’s soft gaze. There is no anger even if these events crossed boundaries, something the man is infinitely grateful for, and he reaches across the desk to take his mentor’s offered hand. 
“I know.” He weakly squeezes the younger man’s hand, his lack of strength more evident than ever. Mirio feels emotion welling up inside of him and blinks it back, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I am asking you to give her the life I never could, Togata. Take her traveling when you can. Remind her that she’s brilliant and will probably keep this country safer than any hero ever could. Just…be there for her. For me.”
The request carries more weight than the older man could ever possibly understand. It’s not merely a responsibility but a strange kind of bequeathing. No formal paperwork, no meetings with officials, just two men discussing a woman they both care about deeply and how to best assuage her in the sorrows to come. 
It also brings another question to Mirio’s mind he has contemplated for many years - do you have lingering feelings for him too? A far younger version of you, magnetism quirk engaged and using it to make him laugh, certainly did. He assumed those feelings just vaporized over time and with responsibility, your heart belonged to another man before he could ever ask that it be his.
A noble man. A good man who you did not want to see live lonely, by himself in his ailing years. A man Togata spent his entire life trying to emulate.
There’s a flutter of hope through the sorrow of knowing the end is coming for his friend and the younger man is the one to squeeze the older mans’ this time, gentle firm pressure to ensure it doesn’t hurt.
“I know it’s a big request. I don’t blame you if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’d like to say no,” Toshinori adds quickly. “I simply know that she cares about you a lot and always has.” His voice cracks and he swallows his sadness, only grateful that his life has been so glorious the last few years thanks to your gentle touch and your silly stories and your tendency to ad-lib songs to make him smile. “She deserves to be happy.”
The younger man couldn’t agree more. He nods, emotion continuing to rise, breaking eye contact to gaze down at his lap to allow him a moment to compose himself. For his entire twenties, he regretted losing his chance with you despite his gratefulness for the care and love you gave Toshinori. Now, entering his thirties, he gets the opportunity to try again. To speak up when he should and to put the feelings he has harbored for more than a decade to good use.
“I will do everything I can to make sure she is, you have my word.”
Even if it means you want nothing to do with him and keep yourself away from everyone forever. Whatever makes you happy, Mirio Togata will make sure you have it. 
“I only have weeks. Months if I’m lucky but I don’t think I’m all that lucky anymore.”
The words make Mirio look up from his lap, brows furrowed. He didn’t think there was so little time left but he is a man of action and nods.
“Then let’s make these next few weeks memorable. What do you need me to do?”
A chuckle from the older man as he finally drops the younger one’s hand gently, tucking it back into his lap to join the other.
“For now, just be around if you can make it work.”
That he can do and he does for three more weeks.
On a warm spring day, a little past the end of cherry blossom season, the world loses All Might.
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‘The days I spent with you were the happiest of my life. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours. - Toshinori’
The note he left you, the one you were handed by some man in a suit you’d never met before in the days following his death, rests on your desk. It feels too soon to tuck away the increasingly wrinkled piece of paper and you’re far too grateful for the life he has put between your two palms to stop glancing at the note every few hours each day.
It doesn’t answer any of the questions you have about what becomes of your life now though.
Emotion wells up in you again, a lump in your throat you have to swallow down to continue working, the results from your audit of the Dynamight agency’s safety audit on the screen of the tablet in front of you. They’re generally highly rated, Bakugou’s fastidious tendencies seeping through even the smallest detail of safety and care of his employees, but you have to look away. You close the screen cover and slide the device aside, standing up from your spot at the kitchen table to walk into the living room.
The house feels like a mausoleum even if it’s now yours and yours only. Being alone for the first time in weeks leaves a strange taste in your mouth and you fold your arms over your chest, padding across the wooden floors to plop down on the overstuffed couch you picked out three years ago. Deku’s wife spent a week by your side, the first seven days after the tremendous loss ensuring you ate and slept, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you cry on her shoulder. The day she went home hurt almost as badly as the day you lost the man himself, the encroaching loneliness feeling claustrophobic.
Thankfully, the second week was dotted with various visitors, your former classmates and long time friends of Toshinori paying their respects posthumously by being good to you in his departure. Dynamight’s wife tended to you and forced you out of your house, inviting you over with the promise of visiting with her eager to see you children. 
The third week was much of the same, even chatting with his old friend David and accepting condolences from other heroes former and current. Your refrigerator stayed full, your mailbox overstuffed with more cards than you could open wishing you well and thanking you for taking care of him.
The fourth fewer people came but you still stayed busy. The fifth, same. The sixth, seventh, and eighth all followed suit although the amount of visitors thinned. Ninth, tenth, eleventh your house became empty outside of your close friends and Mirio. Now you are twelve weeks past his death and facing down a lifetime of uncertainty in a house that feels too large for you but too small for your pain.
Your heart swells recalling the love you’ve been given but it shrivels when you look around, wondering when it will start to feel full of life again; when you will.
Standing, you lumber over to the wall adjacent to where you sit, admiring the artwork and memories on the wall. There are photos of a freckle-faced teenager who became a freckle-faced man with his wife and children alongside Toshinori. Photos of Mirio grinning and giving a thumbs up in a vintage American All Might t-shirt that was almost too small for him. Photos of you and Toshinori smiling side by side when he was still well enough to attend the occasional event, you in glittering floor length sequins and him in a custom suit built to accommodate his ever weakening body. 
Sighing, you reach out and brush your thumb along the frame. The photo doesn’t move, anchored into the wall, and you know that all of the care you gave him wasn’t wasted for a moment. He truly made your life better and you believe you did the same for him, though your eyes flit back to the photo of Mirio for a moment. 
You took the picture a few years back while cleaning out the spare bedroom used solely for merchandise and collectables Toshinori had been given over the years. You accosted the younger blonde for pulling a shirt that was clearly too small for him over his head but snapped the photo anyway, grinning behind your phone at his silly posing. 
Mirio. 
He has been here for you almost as much as your closest friends, popping by daily if able with food or stories or just…sunshine, which is exactly what he is and always has been for the time you’ve known him. Even when the two of you were back in high school he knew your favorite candy and delivered it to your desk daily while spending his evenings sticking paper clips to your arm or the side of your face while your quirk was engaged.
Reaching into your pocket, you grab out your phone and dial his number. He answers before the first ring can even finish its trill.
“Hey-o, what are you doing?”
You giggle at his greeting though he hears the strain in your voice that indicates you are feeling down. He tucks his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his sweatpants on in the changing room of the agency, ready to head home. 
“Nothing. I tried to work a little bit today and couldn’t focus. I’m sure Bakugou will bitch at me but his audit will simply have to wait another week.”
The man on the other end of the phone chuckles, rising to his full impressive stature and heading toward the exit.
“Do you need a distraction? I could come over.”
The offer is appreciated but you wrestle with how to respond to it. What you assumed were long forgotten feelings for Mirio surface every time you are around him and in your grief and confusion, you struggle to separate them from reality and what’s a balm to make you feel temporarily better. Would seeing him now, only three months removed from losing Toshinori, be appropriate? Is it what’s best?
“You don’t have to, I’m sure it was a long day.”
Togata scoffs, using his coded keycard to exit the building. The sun is still somewhat up, a hot summer evening encroaching and he does not want to go home when he could be spending time with you. The day exhausted him a bit, lots of petty crime picks up during the summertime, but he’s never too tired for you.
“Actually, this was the easiest shift I’ve had in a long time.” He’s lying and you can tell by the lilt in his voice, a particular tone he takes when he’s pretending everything is fine you’ve heard before but you are in no condition to press the issue. “I can pick you up in about thirty minutes and we can just drive if you want?”
You shake your head although he can’t see it. Part of you wants to say no, to rebuff your own feelings once and for all, but you’re weak and hurting and needy. 
“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay here if you want to come.”
And come he does, in that promised thirty minutes. He doesn’t bother to knock on the door anymore, punching in the code and announcing himself with a boisterous smile, then plopping down on the couch next to you.
It feels a lot more like coming home than it reasonably should but every time he feels guilty for envisioning his place in his life, next to you, he remembers the promise he made. He will make you happy no matter what that looks like.
Time passes so quickly when he’s around and it’s welcome to have something besides your own loneliness to listen to while he explains one of his heroic saves of the day, enthusiastically explaining phasing through a tree to capture a runaway attempted bank robber.
“So I caught the guy and somehow managed to save all the money too, which is crazy when you think about it. I thought the wind would carry half of it off but not today.”
You smile at him fondly, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he can tell something else is on your mind. Repositioning himself on the couch, he turns toward you and props his head up with his fist.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He has always been able to tell when something is bothering you and your brain screams that you should say no. You should turn down all of Mirio’s kindness and lock yourself inside of this home with your grief forever, a timeless pseudo-widow trapped in a prison of her own making.
But the warmth of his gaze encourages you so much, words bubble out of you before you can stop them, your hands instantly flying to your face to be pressed against your cheeks.
“Despite what people have said, I loved him.” 
Mirio’s face falls into a concerned frown when he notices your eyes welling up, your glance firmly trained on his face. The papers were pretty harsh to you when the news of his death and your subsequent appointing the heir to his agency, legacy, and image were announced. Opportunistic seemed to be the media’s favorite term, honing in on the age and vitality difference between the two of you rather than the fact a fairly selfless young woman took care of him not knowing any of this was in her future.
You never took care of him in hopes of getting anything, only out of compassion for a man who has made the lives of others so much brighter. Who heals the healer? You took it upon yourself to be the one and you do not regret a moment of it, sitting cross legged at twenty-nine with a sense of pride despite it all.
“Maybe not in a conventional way. I never had,” your face falls a little, as though you’re fearful of reaction toward what you’re about to say. “You know…sex or anything with him. We kissed a few times, we held hands on occasion but my days and nights revolved around him for five years.”
Your voice breaks and immediately you push your thumbs against your eyes to keep yourself from crying where someone else can see it although the sniffling gives you away, sharp little inhalations through your nose. 
“What do I do now?”
The question appears to be rhetorical though he feels compelled to answer, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you against his side. The lack of personal space between the two of you is honestly nothing new, certainly more so since Toshinori’s departure, and you settle into the warmth of him. It’s a comfort you need desperately, his fingers drumming a little beat of four into your shoulder.
“Whatever you want.” 
You remove your thumbs from over your eyes, sensitive and red rimmed as they are, glancing at the man next to you carefully. The brightness of your living room causes you to squint and he reaches his free hand to wipe tears from your bottom lashes, his crooked index finger pressing delicately against your skin.
“I know that sounds callous and it probably is the wrong thing to say but your life isn’t over just because he isn’t here to watch you live it.” Now it’s Mirio’s voice that cracks and he clears his throat, hand flexing against where it rests on your upper arm. “He left you the tools to live however you want. You have a successful business, you are young and beautiful and…”
He trails off and you blink at him silently. The true feelings he has tried so desperately to hide for the years he has known you are seeping out of him. How much longer can he possibly hold it in before the pressure starts to cause cracks? Before it spills out of him wildly, an ode to you from a boy who has loved you since seventeen?
You stop him from spiraling, opening your mouth to speak while tears escape over his finger and roll down your face.
“I think I’m scared, Mirio.” 
This is the first time you’ve admitted it, even to yourself. An undefined future is a terrifying prospect and while Toshinori was here, you were guaranteed to always have him. Scheduled pills and injections, showers and quality of life activities. Even your work is unstructured outside of your scheduled annual audits, only being called upon when you are needed. 
He holds you against him, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead. This could be just what you need and although he worries about pushing boundaries, you prove his worries wrong by snuggling further into his side. Your tears drip onto the cotton of his t-shirt and he uses his second hand to begin wiping them away, shushing you gently and affectionately.
“It’s okay to be afraid, he wouldn’t judge you for that, but don’t let it make you waste the opportunity to live exactly how you want.” His words are comforting and you nod against his chest, sniffling. “There is no right or wrong way to handle this.”
This is the first time anyone has told you that it’s okay to not know what to do right now. Not that you’ve ever asked, too fearful of making missteps to try and prevent them at all. You need reassurance and although you’ve been given it, it’s hard not to seek it from a man you’ve found so much comfort in over the past few months. He has been vulnerable with you, it seems only right to do the same for him in return. 
Sighing, you unbury your face from his chest. “Do you think I’m doing okay?”
There is a version of you, more than a decade younger than you are now, that lives in Mirio’s mind and he sees her in the way you look up at him with uncertain eyes. It strikes him how long the two of you have known each other; how long he has been dancing around his feelings for you. He nods, removing his arm from your shoulder to cup your cheeks in his palms.
The urge to kiss away those tears is strong but he talks himself down, tilting your head until your gazes fully meet. All of the love he has kept to himself for a decade further threatens to spill out. He stops himself, self restraint a requirement of being a hero after all, and his thumbs gently stroke the rose petal soft skin beneath them.
“You’re doing better with all of this than anyone else ever could.”
There are no words he has ever meant more than these besides the ones he decides to keep to himself, saving the oft considered ‘I love you’ for another day. 
“Thank you. For everything. I kind of worry I’m asking too much from you,” you rush to apologize and he keeps his grip on your face gentle but firm. 
“You can ask me for anything you need.”
He means it more than he meant his promise to the last man that loved you.
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“Alright, I think we’ve had as much fun as we are going to have. Babysitters get paid hourly, you know.”
Katsuki wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close to him beneath the same lights the six of you used to drink under a long time ago while saying his goodbye. He has never been much of a drinker and hasn’t indulged even a bit tonight but his wife’s relaxed expression gives away how many beers she’s had and you giggle at her, squeezing her hand as she walks by on their way out.
“Be careful you two,” you call after them, Mirio turning to look at you while you glance over your shoulder. Only Midoriya and his wife remain seated across from you two, snuggled in the corner of their side of the booth. Deku’s ever lovely better half raises a brow and nudges her husband in the ribs gently, subtly motioning toward where the pair of you sit.
This is the first night you’ve really enjoyed yourself in the six months since you’ve lost Toshinori. It has been a great walk down a memory lane you haven’t bothered to explore in a long time.
“Gosh, he’s so grumpy,” you laugh to yourself and Mirio giggles beside you, looking as smitten as he always does. Izuku notices it and looks down at his wife, the two of them communicating wordlessly by the time you glance at them. “I’m guessing you two are next to head home?” You tease, your own brain slightly hazy from the few beers you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in. 
A little voice in the back of your head made you fear showing your face in public, especially after the scrutiny that came so few months ago, but nobody has taken a second glance at your group of friends despite all of the men in the group landing in the top five of the Hero standings. It appears whatever backlash was sparked has faded quickly. You make a note to thank the classmates you had that now work in the media who were likely behind it, hoping you remember it later.
You haven’t just had a good time tonight, you’ve had a great one. Smiling gratefully, you look over at your two remaining friends.
“Like Kacchan said, babysitters are paid hourly,” Deku raises his brows and shrugs. His wife kisses his cheek, beginning to slide out of the booth while he holds onto her hand and follows.
Mirio nods at Izuku and smiles at his wife, having known the two of them since high school as well, the same story with the now gone Bakugou’s.
“Get that beautiful wife of yours home safe, Deku.” He jokes with a chuckle and his friend laughs in response, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder and then yours. 
It’s hard for him to believe how much has changed over these years but how much has remained the same simultaneously. His close friends married their high school sweethearts and settled into their family life, kids and recitals and dinner parties. A piece of him has wondered for years if that could have been the two of you as well if he’d left less up to chance as a young man.
Does it do any good to wonder? Mirio doesn’t know yet he does often, tonight especially.
“You ready to go?”
A little lost in your own world, you look up at him with your eyebrows raised and nod slowly. He looks so handsome, even in this poorly lit room, and heat rises in your face straight to the tips of your ears. It has been a long time since you’ve felt that particular heat, the kind that makes your stomach flip flop.
Would it be wrong of you to ask him if he wants to hang out with you for a little while longer? You don’t have ill intentions in wanting to spend time with him, at least that’s what you tell yourself, and the few beers have made you feel brave.
“Do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? We can just go back to the house or find somewhere else or…” you trail off slightly, a little self conscious. Do you seem desperate? Lonely? Annoying? “If you don’t want to though, I understand.” 
Finishing your question hurriedly, you glance up at Mirio who looks at you with that same earnest stare he has given you for years. There are depths in those pretty blue eyes, humor and pain that he has experienced and joy and so much. There is simply so much more to this man than most people know and unexpectedly, it isn’t just your face that feels too hot, it’s the entire room.
“Of course I do. Let me just take you home and we can hang out there, that way I’m not keeping a lady out too late.”
He knows he’s taking a risk by being outright flirtatious with you after months of trying to keep it subtle. He is but a man and knows that look, though. That ‘through the lashes, lips slightly parted, beautiful woman who wants to spend time with you’ look. He’d be a fool to say no, even if you two do nothing but talk for hours. There’s nothing else he’d rather do with the remnants of his night anyway.
“After you,” he offers with a bright grin. The few beers he has had make his cheeks pink and you want to reach out and touch them but refrain, uncertain of how to do all of this correctly. You’ve never really dated, outside of a few hookups in your early twenties, so this is truly foreign territory. It’s a lot to wrestle with the guilt of moving on, something you have reluctantly admitted to yourself it seems you’re doing, and the weight of grief on your shoulders at all times. 
When does it ever get better or at the very least, when does it become less of a struggle?
Saving those questions for another, less fun evening you slide out of the booth and he follows after, placing his hand against your back to walk you out of the bar. It feels natural, his fingers splayed across your spine and heat once again blooms. It’s embarrassing to feel so excited by sheer touch.
Your relationship with Toshinori was never sexual. Always a companion more so than a lover despite the deep love that bloomed between the two of you, you spent a lot of nights in a different bed exploring your own body while he slept in his own room down the hall. This was always the arrangement, comfortable for both of you. He was physically incapable of having sex and you never wanted to make him feel like less because of it, still complimenting his appearance and doing your best to make him feel attractive. Which he was, even until the end that smile and those jovial blue eyes had the ability to light up a room.
It’s just different with Mirio. This isn’t the first time that heat has bloomed beneath your belly button, begging you to follow it all the way down a rabbit hole you aren’t quite sure you are ready for and the alcohol is making it worse tonight. If he can tell, he’s being a gentleman about it, something to be grateful about.
The two of you stand in the now cool autumn night air, the city still noisy outside. The breeze chills your warm cheeks and you look up at him to find him glancing down at you, wearing an expression that tells him some of the same things on your mind are on his.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question is laced with humor, as most of what the man says tends to be, and you feel caught with your pants down. Playing it off with a giggle, you decide to push back; to make him feel like he’s the one being surveyed instead. 
“Why didn’t you kiss me when we were in high school?”
The topic of first kisses came up tonight, your friends reminiscing about how they’ve shared their first everything together throughout the years, and you recall yours being lackluster. Some guy you went to college with named Dai who slobbered all over your face your first year.
Certainly not who you would’ve preferred sharing a kiss with.
Your question has caught Mirio off guard and he rubs his neck, scrunching his nose and refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is that he was simply too afraid to make a move and by the time he was able to, it felt improper given the conflict and all that happened.
It was hardly a time for making a move on the girl you had a crush on and the two of you just went your separate ways after that. He became a Pro Hero, working his way up into the top 15 within his first year and then the top 10 the next and only climbing from there, you went to college to pursue your public safety certification. By the time you were able to reconnect in your early twenties, your lives had diverged so wildly it no longer felt appropriate to, well, go after you.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think I was afraid you didn’t like me back.” Snorting, you attempt to stifle your laughter. He glances down at you, tilting his head, feigning offense.
“Really? I’m being honest with you and you’re going to laugh at me?”
Wrapping your arm around his bicep, you attempt damage control by resting your head against him. A breathy sigh leaves you and you glance upward to catch him staring down at you once again.
“I had such a crush on you that even Hatsume gave me shit about it.” You speak through your nose, attempting the now most sought after equipment outfitter in all of Japan's higher voice and inflection. “Where’s your little boyfriend, magnet girl?”
The two of you devolve into a fit of childish giggles, not unlike the ones you shared back then, and without warning he leans in close to you. You still cling to his bicep but he’s bent at the waist, lips inches from yours, one of his hands reaching to rest against the side of your neck.
“Can I make up for it now?”
Ocean eyes search yours, pleading for an answer. All of that heat courses through your body at once and without putting too much thought into any real consequence, you nod. Just a kiss won’t hurt either of you, for old time’s sake regardless of what may or may not be blooming here. Mirio closes the distance between the two of you and gently brushes his lips against yours, gentlemanly and chivalrous even in the throes his tremendous need to touch and feel and be close to you, and you whimper when he pulls away sooner than you liked.
“Was that okay?”
Giggling, you lean in and kiss him again to give him his reply. It was more than okay, it was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, a sharp comparison to the well kept and bulky rest of him that you have had to stop yourself from eyeing hungrily on more than one occasion. His mouth tastes like salt and beer and love.
Pure love lives on his tongue that is working its way into your mouth while he hurriedly backs you two into a narrow alleyway between the bar you just left and the building next to it. His knee rests between your barely parted legs and your hands reach for anything they can grab, forearms and biceps and his shoulders and chest. You touch recklessly, one hand sliding up the side of his neck to cup his jaw and the other rubbing circles just beneath the hem of his shirt, above his belt buckle.
“Hey,” he stops you unexpectedly to catch his breath, chest heaving while he glances down at you. “I want to keep this going but I have to tell you first that I love you.”
There it is. The thing he has been keeping to himself for twelve long, torturous years. Mirio loves you so fiercely he wonders how he’s managed to even breathe the last 12 years without you by his side, your laughter and light filling his days and nights no matter how they go. 
How could he ever live without you again? He isn’t sure that he could.
Blinking up at him, you slide your hand further up his face and tousle his blonde hair between your fingers. 
“I don’t care if it’s too soon for you to say it back or if you ever will but I love you. I have for such a long time it hurts to keep it to myself any longer.”
The smile on your face turns into a full blown grin, fingers still snaked in his hair. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe lust is winning the battle between your wits and your heart or maybe this is a chance to say something you’ve felt for longer than you realized. 
“I love you too, Mirio.”
It doesn’t make your love for Toshinori any less real to admit you love the man who has been by your side for virtually 24 hours a day for the last six months and long before that too. 
He leans back in and kisses you again, silencing any thoughts other than the two of you and it leaves you breathless, gently grinding against his jean clad thigh and sucking on his tongue. Another pause and he pulls away, cupping your face. 
“Take me home with you.”
It isn’t a plea of desperation but one of pure unadulterated need. He needs you, any way you’ll let him have you, tonight. 
Nodding, you close the distance and press your lips against his.
“Let’s go.”
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In all the time that has passed since you lost Toshinori, your home feels a little brighter when you arise in it each day. 
It feels like somewhere you can build your own life now instead of living trapped inside the memory of his. You were concerned that changing anything about this place would rob you of the comfort of having once loved the man who left it to your care but you know he wouldn’t want you to stand in one place for long. All those months ago, Mirio was right when he told you that Toshinori would want you to make the best of what you’ve been given.
Move forward, he’d assure you if he were still here. Be yourself and find happiness.
Despite all the ways you’re still healing, you have. 
You think about him every day. You will forever, regardless of the nature of your relationship and how other people view it. Some days the memory of him cuts through you like a knife, especially the last year of your life with him spent doing a lot more caretaking than you’d done the prior four, and other days it’s a gentle breeze. A whisper and reminder that he’s watching you, he loves you, he’s proud of you.
You’ve done the All Might legacy well, donating a large chunk of his fortune back to the communities he so committedly served. Scholarships for students who want to go to hero academies but may not have the pedigree or wealth to let them in, rebuilding the last remnants of an over decade old war that still scar areas of Musutafu tourists don’t visit. 
The dreams you have yet to fulfill with what you’ve been provided make your future seem more full than ever. Hospitals bearing his name, education about the balance of hero life and personal life, safety equipment becoming better than ever. Your ambitions are big and you will make them all come true, a vow you made to him on the day he died even if he wasn’t cognizant enough to understand what you were saying.
This is all for him, dearly departed, a man you cared so deeply about you would’ve taken care of him for ten more years if you had to. You’re grateful it didn’t come to that if only for his sake, the suffering his ailing body was facing more than you like to think about even today, but all things considered it was a good life. 
Even the papers have commended the woman they once referred to as an amoral opportunist. 
Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.
And today when your feet hit the ground, the sun rises and fills the room with light through the gauzy curtains you put up a few months back. The cat you recently adopted twines himself around your legs and looks up at you expectantly, breakfast already a few minutes late. You couldn’t go long without having something new to take care of, the cat was once a beat up little thing brought to you by Lemillion himself one evening after a shift that has grown into a demanding beast.
“Saving little lost cats is a bit cliche, isn’t it?” You joked when he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and produced the fuzzy, green eyed lump that mewed at you the moment he saw you. Mirio grinned and half shrugged. “Yeah but I’m good at it, right?”
Good he is, you think looking over at his still sleeping form in your bed. 
For some, it may be too soon to cautiously lend your heart to another man. You love Toshinori and always will, the impact he left on your life is profound in ways you’ll discover for years to come, but a part of you has always loved Mirio even if circumstances prevented the pair of you from being together. He was once a silly teenager who was too afraid to ask you to be his girlfriend when he graduated high school, satisfied to leave things up to fate, and now he is a grown man who has been by your side through the most painful loss of your life so far, holding you together on the days when you were worried you would crumble.
Both of you are grateful that fate decided well although she took her time and brought a lot of pain on her way.
Instead of getting out of bed, you lean down and pick up your now purring cat and slide back into bed beside him, his hands instinctively reaching behind him for your thighs to pull you closer. 
“I didn’t think you were awake,” you whisper and he chuckles, scarred hand running up the expanse of your thigh while your cat climbs onto his shoulder and licks his face. There’s no use in trying to carefully swat the creature away so he lets him settle onto the pillow above his head. 
“I always notice when you get up and I have to fight the urge to follow you.”
Giggling, you wrap yourself around his back and rest your cheek between his bare shoulder blades.
“Why’s that?”
He finally turns to face you, blue eyes glancing down at the thing he has wanted for years. Your unmade, half awake face. The domesticity of your cat purring above both of your heads. The promise of packing to take a week off from heroics to go and enjoy a far off destination neither of you have been together.
“In case I ever lose you again,” he admits vulnerably and you smile up at him, hand reaching to cup his cheek.
The half awake mumblings have more truth to them then you could possibly imagine, fear that something else will hurt you or pull you away from him. Fear that he’s going to waste his time again, precious days he has always wanted to spend with you meaning nothing because he’s too cowardly to fight for what he wants. Maybe a younger version of Mirio Togata would have let this happen but not this one, older and wiser that he is. 
The ring he plans on proposing to you with this week is nestled in his suitcase, buried beneath too many pairs of socks and probably too few pairs of boxers. He won’t even mind a long engagement, if you need one, as long as he knows forever with you is what waits on the other side.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I think we’re stuck together for life after all we’ve been through.”
As he promised his mentor a few months over a year ago, he will ensure that you are.
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dreamwatch · 6 months ago
Text
Exposure
Written for @corrodedcoffinfest
Day #24 - Prompt: Behind The Scenes | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: scars, ableism, facial differences seen negatively by others (a photographer) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, photoshoots
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It was inevitable, honestly.
Their first professional photoshoot, not just Matty’s brother, Brian, with the family Pentax, shooting in black and white because it’s ‘artistic.’ Usually they didn’t put photographs on the flyers, just their logo, but once they moved to Indy a couple of independent labels came for a sniff of the goods and they wanted photos. Thank you, Brian, your services to photography will be forever remembered.
Once they were signed though, the label wanted professional photographs, which was fair, because honestly Gareth’s garage didn’t make the sexiest back drop. So anyway, here they were in a studio in Indianapolis getting their photographs taken, with a real professional photographer.
He doesn’t know a lot about this kind of gig, but he knows guys on TV get their makeup done all the time on account of the lights making their faces shiny, so at first it’s like, whatever. But then they’ve got them all lined up, real Metal Hammer pose, cloudy blue and gray backdrop like some extreme high school portrait, and the photographer is eyeballing him. Like hard stares. And he’s not looking him in the eye. He’s looking at his cheek.
Then the guy’s in a huddle with the makeup artist, and she’s looking at him and the photographers looking at him, and now they’ve got the assistant there. 
“What the fuck is the hold up,” whispers Gareth, and the boys mutter but Eddie says nothing because he knows. He knows and he’s dying a little inside.
Then the huddle is broken, and they’re getting moved around and now Eddie’s facing a different direction (‘we can just flip the neg’) but that’s not working for them either, and the studio lights are getting dimmed on his side, and his heart is racing, and the makeup girl is in his face, “Sorry,” she says, and she’s being gentle, likes she’s trying to be respectful, but she’s painting this shit on his face, on his neck, and he can see the shock, the way her eyes go wide when she starts to move the collar of his shirt and she realises it goes further down and that’s it—
“Can you—“ he snaps, ducking backwards.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” she says all sheepish and apologetic, and she probably means it but he doesn’t care, he’s done, he wants out.
The photographer wraps it up, and he’s talking but Eddie’s not listening, he’s gone, out to the Jeff’s car waiting by the door, but they’re up in the studio playing rockstars, like they’re not driving to gigs in shitty vans, and he’s had it actually, fuck this.
He walks for an hour and then stops at Molly’s and has a few beers. And it feels stupid, at this point, like he’s over reacting, it’s a scar, and they’re in the image industry, and of course they’ll try to hide it. So what? So fucking what?
It’s dark when he finally comes up for air and heads back to their dank little apartment. The guys do that thing where they’re being casual but watching him out of the corner of their eye, but he shoos them away, he’s fine, thanks, nothing to worry about. Gets himself a sandwich and then goes to his room to sleep the day off.
He’s half asleep when he hears his door click, the dip of the bed as someone sits down. He opens his eyes, checks his watch, it’s a little after two in the morning, and when he flips over in the bed Steve Harrington is sitting next to him.
“Heard you had a day.”
“Who called you?” he asks.
Steve kicks his shoes off and slides up the bed, back against the headboard. 
“Gareth. He told me what happened. It fucking sucks.”
Eddie sits up, pulls himself next to Steve. “You drove all the way here to commiserate with me on my sucky day?”
“I drove all the way here to make sure you were okay,” Steve says, like it’s nothing, like Eddie can’t feel his heart squeezing tight at the words.
He doesn’t say anything for a while, needs to process it, what to say.
“I just wasn’t expecting it you know? Which is fucking stupid, and all, but you know, when have I ever been known for my smarts?” he jokes, half assed, because none of this is funny. “It’s just… like, it was so… they looked at me like, how do we fix this? How do we make this go away? Like I was ruining the shoot with my…” he gestures to his cheek, to the jagged red scar that runs all the way down his neck.
Steve listens, because he’s good at that, doesn’t butt in even when you know he’s trying to think of ways of fixing everything.
“And like the thing is, if we make it, it’s gonna be a thing you know? It won’t be the last time.”
Eventually Steve chips in. “I know mine are easier to hide, so I don’t like, know how it is, exactly, but… but people see them and then they’ll forget about them. People look out of curiosity, you can’t stop that, but then they just, they’re not bothered, you know? Like, your fans—“
“Fans?’ Eddie scoffs.
“Yeah, fans! They’re not gonna give a fuck, man. I know that doesn’t really help, not right now, but…  I think it’ll get easier.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” Eddie says under his breath. He rolls his head to the side, making eye contact for the first time.
Steve kicks his jeans off and they climb under the covers, Steve’s back against his.
“You know when you’re rich and famous, first thing you need to do is get a bigger bed. This is ridiculous.”
Eddie can’t help himself, lets the giggles take him, feels Steve’s arm wrap around his waist and pull him close. He finds himself being infinitely grateful to his friends for knowing what he needed, and infinitely grateful for Steve Harrington.
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