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buttercupblu · 3 months ago

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Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen?

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish. You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears.

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr.

to keep it reader-friendly, yk?

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n.

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭.

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou

#bluuharem #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #Satoru Psyche

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celestialsequels · 4 months ago

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couldn’t see me without you, babe ¡! ❞

— synopsis: you’re in love with the it girl of your high school.

— warnings: fluffy, make out session, the most wholesome thing i’ve ever written.

— w/c: 1.9k

— part 2

a/n: credits to @jenctrl for helping me with the kiss scene !

•

digital cameras fluttered with alacrity as she made her way through the bustling hallways. turning everyone's heads without hesitation. her hair bounced with every step she took. she was as gorgeous as a butterfly, so delicate yet capturing everyone’s eye more than anything.

that was yu jimin.

that was the school’s it girl, as you always said. everything about her made your heart turn into mush and your face turn redder than a smooshed cranberry. those quick little glances she’d shoot your way left you a mess. in the midst of the night, she was the only thing encapsulating your dreams, refusing to leave until dawn.

yeonjun was sick of you for always bringing up jimin; he knew how insanely head over heels you were for her. you constantly told him the little details ranging from quick glances to full blown eye contact sessions from across the room. he swore you were crazy the moment you blushed at the note in your locker that said something along the lines of “you left your key in class; here it is.” your mind just knew it was jimin. only yeonjun knew it was the janitor.

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“can somebody please tell me when cubism became a revolutionary movement in the history of art?” yeonjun asked the class as you two stood in front of the class to present your done-last-minute-but-looks-good-enough art project.

you scanned around the room hoping somebody would answer since you clearly didn’t know the answer, having only been running the entire day on two cans of red bull. you crossed your arms, zoning out at the giant window while anticipating the smart kid of the class to answer. you tapped your chin trying to remember if you had anything in your mind since you were the one who wrote these questions.

“1907-08,” a voice spoke out of the classroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. you could recognize that voice anywhere. the way you began to giggle had the entire class thinking if you were having a stroke since you weren’t really the type to even smile in art class. your face lighting up as delusions encased themselves in your mind.

“that’s right!” you yelled out faster than yeonjun could utter out a word, scaring the entire class in the process of doing so.

“of course it’s correct. i’m never wrong,” and there she was in all of her glory, leaning on the door frame with a smirk painted on her face.

you coughed out loud as you choked on your saliva from how intensely she was staring at you and only you. yeonjun nudged you with his elbow, subtly telling you to get your act together since you were being too obvious.

“how may i help you jimin?” your art teacher interrupted. since jimin was older than you and a heck ton smarter than you, it was evident that she was adored by every teacher.

“i wanted to borrow a student from your class for an interview. it’s for my psychology project, and i really need them right now,” jimin spoke, still sporting a smirk in your direction as she knew your art teacher would never say no to her. your heart was doing all sorts of things; dancing around like jojo siwa in karma while also moonwalking all the beats through your body. your palms felt sweat pool in the center from how nervous her gaze was making you.

“take your pick, jimin,” your art teacher offered.

“can i take y/n if that wouldn’t be a problem?” her voice was more giddy than the expressions on her face.

you swore the things around you had stopped moving, the only thing you could hear was your blood pumping through your veins, clearly turning your face red. yeonjun stepped on your foot this time causing you to squeak out loud before muttering out a quick “sorry”.

“not a problem at all. y/n, please accompany jimin with her project,” your art teacher smiled internally, noticing how you turned red, but he was hopeful this could be the start of something new. you quickly nodded, almost embarrassingly tripping over the cord of the projector below your feet as you made your way towards jimin. she eyed you up and down hastily, mentally telling you to follow her to wherever she wanted to take you. you kept your head down as your shyness made an awkward entrance, quietly following behind her. she paid no mind to you until you two finally approached the library. jimin stopped suddenly, catching you completely off guard as you walked straight into her back.

“pay attention, pretty girl,” you froze at the endearment, pinching yourself to recollect yourself out of this dream.

you two made your way inside the library after that little moment, finding a cozy spot in the corner. it almost made you feel as if you were on a date with jimin, with the way she tucked your chair in as you sat down. you truly wondered what that would feel like.

“hi,” you managed to say despite the fact that you were out of breath by just being in her presence. you were oddly confused as you realized she didn’t have her notes with her for the interview until you recalled that she’s smarter than you and doesn’t do her projects the day before they're due.

“so, i have a couple of questions for you. this interview is solely based on having a casual conversation,” jimin paused at your confused expression before continuing, “it’s going to have common questions such as likes, dislikes, etc. is that okay?” she asked you, to which you politely nodded with a smile.

“okay, perfect. first question then. what do you think about museums?” she piped.

“museums? i really like them. i think they capture a lot more than just what was. they hold stories of people who once loved, once hated, and once made the entire world think if there was more to art,” you answered with a small chuckle at the end. jimin simply stared at you, almost in awe with how you formulated your words, especially since she knew that you didn’t like talking much.

“i’ve never thought about it like that! next question, what is your favorite type of flower?” she asked while tucking her hair behind her ear.

“if i’m being honest, i really love the old fashioned roses. i don’t have much to say for that other than the fact that it symbolizes such timeless romance,” you chimed.

“okay how about—wait what’s your opinion on—,” before jimin could ask you another question, the bell for next period rang loudly, reminding you that you had a test today that you totally didn’t forget to study for.

“i’m so sorry! i just realized i had a test today. can we pick this up tomorrow or perhaps, later?” you rushed out.

“oh! that’s completely okay. i’ll see you tomorrow then, or if i run into you later on. thank you for your time!” jimin smiled at you as you grinned before making your way out of the library and onto your next class.

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students had begun to jet outside of classes, piling up in the halls as the final bell of the day rang. you tiredly walked to yeonjun’s locker, filling him in on what had taken place in the library today. you felt the red bull beginning to wear off as all your energy had vanished the moment you stepped out of the test. teachers were heading to meetings they had been informed of at the last minute, causing everyone to be kicked out of class almost right at the bell.

“so, that’s all that happened? isn’t it weird how the questions weren’t the least bit psychology related?” yeonjun questioned curiously.

“well, she did mention that it was an interview based on having a casual conversation, but she didn’t exactly explain it, so i didn’t question her,” you responded tiredly.

“hmm, okay. go get your stuff so we can leave. i need to return this book to the library before it closes!” he yelled as he ran to the library, practically pushing people out of his way.

you shook your head at his buffoonery and made your way to your locker. foolishly forgetting your code before trying again, letting out a grateful susurration as it opened. you grabbed your textbook along with your keys. you were just about to close your locker until you saw a note fall out of the corner. looking around, you swiftly picked it up before gently unfolding it.

“meet me in the art room after the final bell”

without even hesitating, you shut your locker and trudged to the art room only to find it locked. you opened the note again, which you had shoved inside of your pocket, to check if you were at the right room. you clicked your tongue as you waited for something to happen or somebody to at least open the door. you noticed how the hallway had gotten so eerie. the atmosphere of the hallway almost forcing you to get going until you suddenly felt somebody tug roughly at the back of your collar and pull you into the art room.

it was jimin.

“hi, y/n,” she shyly smiled at you as you stared at her in surprise.

“hi, jimin. i wasn’t expecting that strength,” you tried to joke until you realized how horrible of an attempt it was.

before you could say anything else, you saw her rushingly dig into her bag for something. she slowly pulled out a rose from her side pocket and handed it to you, not letting you utter a word as she placed her finger on your lips, almost stilling you out of your mind. you blushed but didn’t dare to say anything.

“so, earlier during that ‘interview’ you mentioned you really liked museums, so i got us two tickets to the art museum downtown,” jimin said, taking your hand, gently placing the ticket in your palm, letting her fingers linger along your skin.

“jimin, i-i honestly don’t—you’re the sweetest little thing ever,” you gazed at her lovingly as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“you don’t have to say anything, y/nnie. i just want you to come with me,” she whispered.

she slowly tucked your hair behind your ear that had fallen in front of your face. you two locked eyes before she cupped under your jaw, bringing your lips near hers. you thanked whatever higher power there was for this moment just before you closed your eyes and let her take the lead.

as soon as her lips hit yours, you knew you were doomed for however long you were going to live this lifetime. butterflies erupted in your stomach while your heart leaped out of your chest in bliss. her soft lips continued to move against yours as your hands remained on her waist, pulling her in closer than ever. you two paused softly, smiling against each others’ lips before pulling back completely.

“so, i’ll come pick you up whenever you’re ready, pretty girl,” jimin beamed before heading out the door.

you happily nodded at her, not trusting your words in the moment. holding your chest as your heart wanted to simply embrace jimin and never let her go, you were sure your face was redder than it’s ever been.

“y/n? why are you so red?”

#aespa karina #yu jimin #karina imagines #karina fluff #karina x female reader #karina x reader #celestialsequels #Spotify

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alessiasfreckles · 9 months ago

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not good, not bad, just different (leah williamson x ADHD!reader)

disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience of ADHD. this is in no way saying that this is what adhd looks like for everyone!!

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it, i'm sorry it's so all over the place but that also felt pretty thematic so... hopefully it's okay. i'm planning on doing 1-2 more parts to this! the next part will be about the reader getting diagnosed and coming to terms with their diagnosis + telling the other lionesses about it. also if you're interested in more WLW football based fiction involving ADHD, read Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner!

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

You had always felt… different. Not in a ‘not like other girls’ kind of way, more like an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. Things just seemed to be so much harder for you than for everybody else.

As a teenager, you were constantly getting told off by your parents for your messy room and bad grades. You were a smart kid, they said, so why couldn’t you just do your homework and study for tests like everyone else?

You would ask yourself the same thing. Forcing yourself to sit at your desk, staring at your maths textbook, desperately begging your brain to just cooperate, just this once, not understanding why it was so hard to just do the work.

When your parents would come into your room you would instantly feel a flash of white-hot shame at the state of it. Clothes everywhere, rubbish you’d forgotten about in corners, plates, cups, half empty water bottles. You couldn’t help it, it was like once something was out of your line of sight, you just forgot it existed, like the plate of half-eaten food that you’d put next to the bed at some point and then had absent-mindedly pushed under the bed to get it out of your way. When you found it weeks - okay, months - later, you were so embarrassed by the mould that you secretly threw it away rather than take it downstairs to the kitchen, where anyone could see it.

You would forget things you knew you should remember, things that anyone else would have remembered, like weekly tutoring sessions that your parents paid for (something they reminded you of when you forgot, yet again). You felt so stupid. It was at the same time, every Wednesday after school, so why couldn’t you remember?

Or doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, any kind of appointment really. You would write it into your calendar, set yourself a reminder on the day, set yourself another reminder 30 minutes before, and all that would happen is that you would swipe away the reminder thinking ‘oh, yeah’, and then you’d continue doing whatever you were doing before. It was only when you’d hear the phone ring that you’d instantly know it was about you, about the appointment you’d missed, or maybe it was from school, or maybe something else you’d just completely forgotten about.

And all of that wasn’t even taking your issues with human interaction into account. You’d always struggled to make friends, especially as a girl who liked football. When you hit 9 or 10, the other girls in your class started to grow more interested in talking about boys, or music, or tv. You couldn’t understand what they found so interesting, that they’d rather spend breaks just sitting around chatting to each other when they could be running around playing football, or some other game, or anything more exciting.

As you got a little older, though, you realised that it was clearly a ‘you’ problem. People at your secondary school were nice, for the most part, but you still struggled to make friends. When you’d accidentally interrupt someone, or start talking too much and too loudly in excitement, or fidget a little too noisily, people would give you looks and whisper to each other about how weird you were. You learned to sit on your hands to stop yourself from clicking a pen or tapping your fingers, to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing or saying it the wrong way.

Football was a good escape. It was fast-paced enough that you didn’t have time to think about other things, and there was enough going on that your brain wasn’t looking for external stimulation. You’d always been observant, noticing things most people wouldn’t notice, and you used it to your advantage. You were quick with the ball and you seemed to always know where everyone was around you. You were so good, in fact, that you made the England U17 squad - something you’d hoped would make you seem a little cooler at school, but just added to your ‘weirdness’.

That time was far behind you now, though. Now you were in your twenties and not only played football professionally, having joined Arsenal when you were 19, but also played for the England senior squad, one of the Lionesses.

That’s not to say that you didn’t still struggle with things. Your apartment was a mess, you lost things constantly, you would still interrupt people and fidget. You had friends though, at least. If anything, people knew what you were like and they loved you for it. It became a running joke on match days that you would inevitably lose your shoes, or your shin pads, or your phone, or that you’d need to borrow a hair bobble from someone. Everything would always show up right as you started to panic, though. Your shoes would be in the bathroom, because you’d been holding them when you went in to go to the toilet before the game like you always did. Your shin pads would be in the pockets of your jacket, one on each side, so you wouldn’t lose them.

“Looking for this?” Leah would ask, pulling your phone out of her pocket and smiling at the look of relief on your face.

“Yes! Where was it?”

“On the bus. You left it on your seat,” she explained.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like me,” you joked.

“Nah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you,” she would say with a wink.

So, yeah. Maybe you had a reputation as the forgetful one, and the messy one, and the chaotic one, and the distracted one. But that was just who you were, right?

---------

Okay, you knew you were here for a reason. There must have been something you were going to get from the prep room, that’s literally the only reason you were there. You mentally went through everything you needed; shoes, on your feet, jacket, wearing it, headphones, in your pocket, water bottle - fuck, that was it! Your bottle!

You grabbed it from the bench where you’d left it and headed back out. On the way you needed to pee, so you quickly went to the bathroom, washed your hands, and went back to the training pitch.

“Did you get your water bottle?” Leah asked, a quizzical look on her face as she looked at your empty hands.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “I had it. Where the fuckety fuck did I put it?”

“Y/n, come on! Training started 5 minutes ago!” one of the trainers called over. You felt a white hot flash of shame in your belly, heat rising to your face.

“Do you want me to help you look for it?” Leah asked.

You shook your head, looking down. “No, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Let’s just start training.”

After training, Kyra came over to you in the changing room.

“Here,” she said, holding out your bottle. “I found it in the toilets, on the sink.”

---------

After that you made a list. You stuck it to the inside of your cubby, and every day you would look through it, double checking everything before you left the room. It helped for a while, until you started seeing the list as part of the background and your brain started ignoring it.

When you went to international camp, it got worse. You were away from your routine, in an unfamiliar environment. At least the people you were with was pretty much the same as always. As nice as it was to see everyone though, it was draining, too.

“Y/n? What do you want?” Leah asked. You were on a rare night out, the whole team at a restaurant by the beach together.

“Huh?” you asked, frowning. At a table nearby, people were singing ‘Happy Birthday’, cheering, clapping. On the other side of you, someone was having a conversation - it sounded like they were on a first date, but that didn’t make sense, you were in Spain, they sounded English, why would they be on a first date here?

“What do you want to order?” Leah asked again, prompting you. The waitress stood there, looking at you expectantly, notepad in her hand. A light flickered somewhere in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, um, I,” you stuttered, looking at the huge menu in front of you. The people on the date were talking about what kind of things they liked to do on holiday, she liked to go sightseeing, he just wanted to relax, at another table a baby started crying, the ice in people’s glasses was clinking, knives and forks were scraping against plates, that song you’d had stuck in your head for days now was still playing on a loop in the back of your head, your leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table, someone’s nails were tapping against their phone, the man was telling the woman that the whole point of holidays is to relax-

Leah’s hand on your knee made you look up from where you’d zoned out looking at the menu. The waitress was gone. Leah was looking at you with a concerned expression, her hand steady on your knee.

“Do you want to go outside, get some fresh air?” she asked calmly.

You nodded wordlessly.

With a hand on your arm she guided you outside the restaurant, taking you to a nearby bench to sit down. The breeze cooled the sweat on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?” Leah asked, reaching for her jacket.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, breathing in deeply. You knew you should just go back inside, suck it up, smile at Leah and say everything was okay, but you just couldn’t yet. You just needed a few more minutes.

You sat there in silence for a minute. It wasn’t a bad silence, but you could tell Leah was giving you space to talk whenever you felt ready. You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened though, you felt too embarrassed about getting overwhelmed like that. Everyone else was fine, it was just you who couldn’t handle it.

“The people at the table next to us, I think they were on a first date,” you said instead, looking at your hands.

“Yeah?” Leah laughed.

“Yeah. But, like, why would they be on a first date here? They sounded English, why are they on a first date at a restaurant in Spain?” you asked.

“Huh, I dunno,” Leah mused. “Maybe they’re both on holiday and happened to meet and decided to go on a date?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. After a few seconds of quiet, you sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I just got… there was just a lot going on.”

Leah squeezed your knee. “It’s okay. It was busy in there, wasn’t it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. My brain just couldn’t handle it all. All the noises, and the menu- oh, fuck, I didn’t order anything!”

“It’s okay,” Leah chuckled. “I ordered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A sandwich and chips. If you don’t want it I’m sure someone else will eat it,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t even notice you ordering for me,” you frowned. “I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I feel like something is wrong with my brain,” you tried to explain, not knowing how to put it into words.

Leah frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone is probably wondering where we are.”

“Wait, y/n, we can stay outside for a little bit longer,” Leah said.

“No, no,” you stood up quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m okay, I promise.”

———

It didn’t take long for Leah to corner you the next day, determined to talk to you..

“You seem distracted,” Leah said, sitting down next to you on the bench. “More distracted than usual, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah,” you said. “It’s kind of ironic, actually. I’m distracted because I’m distracted.”

“Right…” she said, frowning. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about why you’re distracted?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying to think of how to word it. “We all know I get distracted easily, right?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’re like a magpie or something. You see something shiny, you gotta pick it up. Except the shiny thing is literally anything that catches your attention,” she laughed.

“Exactly! Well, I was looking some stuff up online, or, no, I saw some stuff online, wait, let me start again,” you said. “My thoughts are moving faster than my mouth. Okay, so, when I was a teenager, I was on tumblr a lot. It was the only social media I really had. And on tumblr I’d see a lot about people with ADHD and autism and about hyperfixating on things. And I’ve always kind of hyperfixated on stuff - I mean, football, obviously, but other stuff too, like how on my days off I’ll binge watch an entire season of a TV show and then not shut up about it for like, a month straight, and then I’ll lose interest and basically never mention it again.”

“Or like when you decided to start playing guitar and bought a guitar and had 2 lessons and then stopped, or like when you got really into gardening for a few weeks and bought all those plants and seeds and books about gardening and then realised it was the wrong time of year for half the things you wanted to plant?” Leah asked, an amused look in her eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess those count too,” you said, frowning. “So, yeah, I hyperfixate on things. And I’ve only ever seen it mentioned together with ADHD and autism. But I always thought wow, that’s so crazy that I do that but I don’t have either of those!”

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Leah smiled.

“Leah, what if I do have ADHD? I don’t think I have autism, I mean, I might, but I haven’t really looked into it yet, maybe I should-”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she laughed, putting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, we both know I am in no way qualified to tell you if you have ADHD or not. But I know you very well. We’ve known each other for what, 5, 6 years now? And it would not surprise me in the slightest if you have ADHD.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean, aside from what I just mentioned?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Last night? At the restaurant?” she gently reminded you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I may have also read up on the topic a bit. I kind of suspected you might have ADHD, but I didn’t want to bring it up until you did,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. You felt something flutter in your stomach at her confession. “Anyway, one of the things I read was that people with ADHD also struggle with overstimulation and sensory issues. Do you think that could be what happened last night?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quiet. “Maybe?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s just a lot to take in.” you told her. Your mind was racing, thoughts splitting off into dozens of other thoughts, some fully formed and some nothing more than singular words or phrases.

You sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“What do I do now?” you asked Leah, your voice small. “I, um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I kind of expected you to tell me I’m being silly.”

“I would never say that,” she said, turning to look at you, her eyes fixed on yours. “I wouldn’t say that about something important to you, I promise. And as for what to do now, well, I guess you have a few options. You can keep going as you have been, and do some more research, if you want, and try to figure it out alone. Well, not alone. You’ve got me. Or you could speak to someone, a professional. See if your hunch is right.”

“And then?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s up to you. I suppose they’d be able to help you with coping mechanisms, or put you on medication, if that’s what you wanted,” she shrugs.

“Medication?” you asked. Your mind was full of pictures of hyperactive kids, bouncing off the walls. You propped your feet up on the bench, pulling your knees in close to your chest. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m just being dramatic?”

“Then that’s okay, too,” Leah said firmly. “Then you’re just dramatic, but that’s okay, too. I promise.”

You nodded, resting your chin on your knees.

"Would you be able to help me find someone to talk to? I don't know how, or where, or, anything, really," you asked.

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "I'll help in any way I can."

#hannah writes fics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fluff #adhd #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader #awfc #woso imagine #woso fanfic

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moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown · 3 months ago

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As much as I hated the Lila/five pairing just on character stand points and the fact five and Lila would honestly never do that to Diego, like come on, but like if Ritu Arya was looking at me and laughing like she did in the like montage of them moving through the timelines and was trying to make the best of it by being excited about gumballs, I would end up falling in love with her just as fast as five did. Like we would all fold and fall in love with her in like .2 seconds. And don’t you even try to deny it, look at this beautiful woman and tell me you wouldn’t be heart eyes at her

Now my opinions on how they could have done their whole thing below:

Do I wish they had made it a ‘brother-sister companionship, as two people who truly get what the other has been through and are each others wobbly support system’ yes that would have been amazing, maybe give five a long term girlfriend in the 6 years, one who he’s having trouble connecting with because he’s been through 3 end of the worlds and 45 years alone and then the commission stuff. And in the 7 years Lila and five are trying to get home, they both connect with the other on how they feel about it all and five helps Lila understand Diego more by explaining why he is the way he is, and Lila helps five understand how to open up to his partner, and sure if you want them to kiss for whatever reason, make it like a

“Yeah that was weird right? I thought it was like a thing we had but yeah let’s never speak of this, and we do not tell Diego, I don’t need him trying to stab you” and then have a lil laugh session. And maybe five hides the notebook cause he kind of likes the life in the greenhouse but the fight is more

“I have children who need me! You have a girlfriend who loves you! We have to try.” And five being so tired of the running to save the world gets on the train, goes home but as they blink to the house five wants to go back to that peaceful world, of no running of safety in a bubble. The whole explanation of they were lost for 7 years happens, five maybe is still a bit of a dick because like emotions and things. We learn what’s happening with Ben and Jennifer.

The whole store fight happens

Maybe he takes his partner maybe he doesn’t but he ends up blinking back to the subway platform again and then we get the meeting with the other fives, we understand that the end has to be a full sacrifice of the siblings.

Five returns to the hotel, and everything continues, Lila and fives partner go to the subway, but both of them get off at the last minute. And five finds them and his partner who has been with the siblings this whole time or most of the time just shrugs cause five is what she wants and she doesn’t wanna be in a timeline unable to remember him, idk you can make something up but they all go back to the hotel, and the ending happens, but five holds his partners hand and she just smiles at him as they are erased from everything, and yeah would it be a little odd? Sure.

But it would be better then what they ended up doing which was five hurts his brother and dies feeling alone and used.

They could have had five and Lila end up romantic but turned it into something different. And they realize it’s not a thing they ever wanted really it’s more they were stuck together for so long emotions got a little hazy.

Give five someone, but don’t give him someone who is already someone else’s entire heart.

Diego and Lila have 3 kids together *4 if you count Stanley as a figurative son*

Five deserved his own person, like Luther deserved to have sloane, and Allison deserved to have Ray, Viktor deserved more time with sissy, and Klaus with Dave. You don’t have to pass one around to the others just because she’s still there. You can give us a new person for five. It’s not even the weirdest thing this show has ever done -Klaus having a cult cough cough-

They had a way to do this, and they just picked the worst timeline train to stop on.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #adian gallagher #lila hargreeves #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #the brellies #brellies #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #season 4 #tua s4 #tua season 4 #umbrella acedmy #viktor hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #sloane hargreeves #luther hargreeves

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miss-hyoko · 2 years ago

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your "Privileged One" fic is so cute!! i can't help but think though, what if the childhood friend is physically affectionate? 🤔 (would they blush, LOL)

"We're sorry for the wait, dear customer. Your order of [Let Me Hug You!] gado-gado is now served. Tuck in and savor every flavor. If there's anything else we can assist you with, please feel free to reach out."

Let Me Hug You!

Character(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus

Summary: His childhood friend is physically affectionate person

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, pure fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, reader is NOT Yuu, childhood friends, cute relationship between childhood friends, a hint of him having a crush on you if you squint

Note: Yay~ another childhood friends trope to deliver. Thank you for the amazing request, anon. I hope you like this. If there are any typos or grammar errors, please don't hesitate to let me know.

1. Riddle Rosehearts

The first time you tried to be physically affectionate with Riddle when you both were kids, he was very startled to the point he straight-out jumped away from you like a scared cat. With eyes wide open, it took little Riddle at least a minute to process what had just happened. And when everything finally clicked, a deep blush crept up his cheeks, tinting them a vibrant shade of red. Then, just like a defenseless maiden on the verge of being violated, Riddle screamed loudly while accusing you of being rude.

Although his words sounded harsh, we all know Riddle didn't mean any of it. He just didn't know how to respond because this whole affection thing is quite new to him. Theoretically, he knows what affection is. But practically? He had never experienced it. At least, until you entered his life. It was kind of awkward at first, but over time, Riddle would eventually get used to being on the receiving end of your affection.

After the two of you were successfully accepted into NRC, away from Riddle's mother's strict tutelage, you became even more open with your affection towards Riddle. And although Riddle often scolded you about how you should behave appropriately as a student of NRC, he was secretly pleased by the fact that now he could finally relish himself in your affections without needing to worry about his mother's opinion.

However, no matter how much he liked being showered by your attention, Riddle was still a bit against you being affectionate with him in public. Though, as long as it wasn't too intimate to the point of attracting people's attention, he didn't mind a little act of affection, such as: holding hands, hugging, and a quick kiss on the cheek. If later anyone was stupid enough to mention how red his face was, then Riddle would directly get their head beheaded with zero hesitation.

Among the many gestures of affection you gave him, Riddle liked your temple massage the best. The way your hands move gently on his tight muscles while applying the right pressure never fails to make him relax both his body and mind, releasing the pent-up tension from his body. Enjoying your touch, Riddle sometimes unconsciously falls asleep during the massage session, showing how comfortable he could be with you around him.

2. Leona Kingscholar

Ever since he was little, Leona never liked the idea of having any form of contact with other people, especially ones that included direct touch. So, whenever you try to be affectionate with him, an annoyed frown will make its way to his forehead as he continuously moves to avoid your hug attack with incredible agility. Only after you're too tired to move would Leona finally stop avoiding you and tell you to stop acting affectionately with him since it greatly disgusts him.

Despite saying that, Leona ultimately caved in and allowed you to do whatever you wanted because his heart had a soft spot for you. He told himself many times that he only tolerated your touchy-feely behavior because you're his childhood friend. However, he later became overly accustomed to it to the point he would find it strange if you didn't come to give him affection annoy him, even if only for a day.

In school, many NRC students often saw you hanging out with Leona. No one knows whether you're sticking to him or he's sticking to you, but one thing's for sure; Leona didn't like being disturbed when he was together with you. Those who dared to approach would surely be treated like an enemy by him. With eyes glaring daggers at them, he silently mouthed the words 'fuck off' as a warning to not take another step forward.

Leona never gave a fuck about other people's opinions of him; thus, he doesn't really mind if you're being affectionate with him in public. And even if he did complain, you don't need to take it seriously since it was probably just him being his usual cranky self. Another possible reason may be because Leona's aware of the numerous pairs of eyes focusing on you two, and he doesn't want you to be the subject of negative gossip. Well, even if there are indeed some bad rumors about you, you don't have to worry since he'll take care of it for you. Such a good friend he is, eh?

It's already common knowledge around the school that Leona often used his childhood friend as his personal pillow, so it's not really a surprise to know that his favorite form of affection is cuddling with you while sleeping. The warmth emanating from your body seeps into Leona's skin, reassuring him that you're still by his side. All the while, your steady heartbeat continues to be a constant reminder of your presence.

3. Azul Ashengrotto

The moment you first attempted to express your affection towards Azul with a hug during your childhood, he instantly froze in his place; mouth hung agape and his face flushed a deep shade of red. Worriedly, you tried to touch him to bring him back to reality, but he let out a sudden scream and swiftly swam away to hide in his octopus pot.

Azul is not a stranger to affection, all thanks to his mother who likes to pamper him with kisses. Even so, receiving it from someone outside the family was a brand-new experience for him. Initially, he won't stop fidgeting whenever you try to give him affection. But soon enough, he learned to relax and even reciprocate it, albeit awkwardly. Azul may not openly show it, but he loves the affection you give him and he looks forward to it every day.

Upon enrolling at NRC, Azul, with a heavy heart, had to reduce the frequency of being affectionate with you since he had a professional image to maintain, much to both your and his dismay. He had grown accustomed to being showered with your affection, and now he must stop receiving it? Azul bawled his eyes out in his heart.

Fortunately for him, you still continue to give him your affections every day like usual. Although not as often as before, because you also considered the persona he had worked so hard to create, Azul is still happy to have his daily dose of affection. If other people were nearby, Azul's cheeks would be heating up from embarrassment and he lightly reprimanded you to compose yourself. But who will take his words seriously when he makes little to no effort to push you away.

Surprisingly, Azul's favorite form of affection was when you touch his cheek; smoothing it, pinching it gently, or squeezing it. He loved the way your hand felt against his skin—warm and reassuring. It made him feel special, like he was the only one in your world. And to top it off, you always cooed sweet nothings whenever you did it, which could make Azul feel a bit bashful. But… as long as it's you, Azul won't fight back.

4. Kalim Al Asim

Ever since you were little, you had a unique habit of tackle hugging Kalim every time you two met each other. At first, Kalim was taken by surprise, but then he would quickly reciprocate the hug with an even tighter embrace while bursting into hearty laughter. If it weren't for someone eventually intervening and separating the two of you, there's no doubt that you and Kalim won't end the hug anytime soon.

Being a naturally affectionate person himself, Kalim always welcomed your displays of affection with open arms. In fact, he wholeheartedly encouraged you to express your affection as frequently as you pleased because he's more than ready to receive it with arms open wide.Growing up, the intimacy between the two of you has not diminished even a bit. Instead, it increased to the point that people often misunderstood the relationship between you and Kalim. Kalim himself doesn't find anything unusual about his interactions with you. After all, you and he are best friends, so isn't it natural for you to love each other?

Whenever and wherever, Kalim had no reservations about displaying his affection for you in public. If you happen to pass each other in the hallway and countless eyes are watching, Kalim will still rush to give you a warna hug and a quick peck on the cheek. With a gleam in his eyes, he would then present his cheek to you, hoping you would reciprocate the gesture.

Out of the many affections you have given him, the one Kalim loves the most is your embrace. No matter how often you hug him, Kalim will never get tired of it. Wrapping his two arms around your body, Kalim basks himself in the warmth and comfort of your embrace. For him, there existed no greater place than the sanctuary of your loving arms.

5. Vil Schoenheit

Besides the rosy hues that grace his cheeks, little Vil doesn't show any excessive reactions whenever you're physically affectionate with him. He simply reprimanded you for startling him and then telling you to let him know in advance so he won't be caught off guard next time. All in all, he doesn't mind if you want to be physically affectionate with him.

When he was younger, Vil adorned himself with only the lightest touch of makeup, so he had no problem with you touching or even kissing his face. If it were anyone else, Vil would surely not grant them such privilege. But because you're his childhood friend, you're the only exception.

As he grew older and began to wear makeup more often, Vil started prohibiting you from casually touching him like before. Hugging and holding hands is still tolerable, but touching or kissing his face is only allowed when he's not wearing makeup. Don't misunderstand; Vil still cherishes all the affection you give him, yet his job as a public figure demands him to appear perfect at all times. But don't worry, he's still your Vil Schoenheit in private.

Being both a model and an actor means that Vil's every move is watched by the media and the public eye. Therefore, he strongly forbids you from being affectionate with him in public. He doesn't care if there are negative rumors that may tarnish his reputation; instead, he's more concerned about your life being disturbed by his fans.

When the day is almost over, Vil usually allows you to play with his hair for a while before he starts his nightly routine. He likes feeling your fingers running through his locks, gently caressing them with utmost care. Vil wants to let you know that he's not that fragile, but at the end of the day, he chooses to remain silent and enjoy the affection you give him with a faint smile.

6. Idia Shroud

Whenever you try to get physically affectionate with little Idia, there are always four possible reactions he can give: he might let out a loud shriek, reflexively dodge you, become a stuttering mess, or even do all three in succession.

Let's be real; Idia wasn't a big fan of physical contact with other people. But since it's you, someone he holds dear along with Ortho, he's willing to make a little exception. It took him a while to get used to your touch, but now, when you try to be affectionate with him, he will only get slightly startled with a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

During your time at NRC, you can't be all touchy-feely with Idia as often as before because he rarely shows up in person, opting to send his tablet to fulfill his stead. That's why, every time school is over, you head straight to his room and cling to him like a koala. Although a little flustered, Idia doesn't shy away from your touch; he just asks you to move a bit so he can continue playing his game.

Idia strongly dislikes being affectionate in front of many people and being the center of attention. He'd much rather enjoy your company and affection in the privacy of his room. Plus, being stared at by many people while receiving your affection would distract him from fully savoring the moment.

Idia often tells himself that he's not the biggest fan of physical affection and that he's just getting used to you being touchy-feely. But when you lean against his side, resting your head on his shoulder, Idia will unconsciously lean back on you, savoring the warmth of your presence. At that moment, time seems to slow down as he feels the gentle rhythm of your breath and the comforting weight of your head against him. A small, genuine smile forms on his lips, as if your touch has unlocked his hidden vulnerability and he finds solace in your presence.

7. Malleus Draconia

When you first give little Malleus a physical affection in the form of a hug, he is taken aback for a few seconds before a small smile adorns his slightly blushing face. Without hesitating, Malleus would take your hand into his and ask you to repeat what you just did earlier, eyes sparkling with excitement as he waited for you to hug him again.

Being the crown prince of the Briar Valley, Malleus was both respected and feared, causing others to maintain a cautious distance from him. In the big palace he called home, Malleus always felt lonely all by himself. So when you entered his gloomy life and gave him the affection he had always craved, Malleus couldn't help but become attached to you. As a young fae, he was quite clingy back then, often asking you to hold his hand, hug him, and occasionally requesting a kiss on his cheek.

The NRC students, no matter how frequently they witnessed it, forever found themselves astounded when they caught sight of you randomly giving the legendary Malleus Draconia a surprise hug from behind. What made it even more remarkable was that Malleus himself didn't display any sign of displeasure. On the contrary, a gentle smile graced his lips as he playfully pinched your nose, revealing his enjoyment of your endearing acts. It was evident that he welcomed your playful gestures and had no intention of putting an end to them.

If you choose to shower Malleus with affection in the presence of others, rest assured that he will not harbor any anger or annoyance. Instead, a light chuckle would escape his lips as he let you do as you please. By demonstrating your affection for one another, Malleus believes it lets people know that you and him have a very good relationship that was built on a strong foundation of trust and affection.

It's not wrong to say that Malleus enjoys holding hands with you wherever you both go, but if he had to choose, Malleus prefers it more when you play with his hands. Whether it's comparing the size of your hands, tracing the lines on his palm, or simply interlocking your fingers together. Through these seemingly simple gestures, Malleus discovers an unparalleled sense of happiness. Each touch, each moment of connection, carries a profound significance for him, serving as a testament to the depth of your bond together.

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strangersteddierthings · 1 month ago

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Gut Instinct: Chapter 2 - Friday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two]

Having been on the basketball team all four years of high school, it takes him less than two minutes to find Lucas. He and the team are doing some practice drills before the game.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Sinclair!”

Lucas stops instantly, looking for who shouted. Once he catches sight of Steve he breaks out into a grin and jogs over. “Steve, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

“I was informed that no one told you Hellfire did not postpone. Wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Lucas’ face falls instantly, the glee of seeing Steve here gone. “Oh. So, no one’s going to be here for the game?”

It doesn't sit right with Steve that Lucas's first thought is that his friends aren't going to show up. “What about your parents?”

“Well, yeah, they’ll be here. But they have to be. That’s what parents do. I just thought my friends would….” Lucas trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish for Steve to know what he was going to say. Thought they’d have his back. Be here.

Steve pauses before answering, thinking. “So, you want to play in the championship game. Not Hellfire?”

“Well, I want to do both,” Lucas says, “but it’s not like the school’s going to rearrange the entire basketball schedule so I can go play Dungeons and Dragons. I had Dustin and Mike ask for me, ‘cause I don’t think Eddie likes me very much? I think he’d say no immediately if I was the one asking.”

“Hey, that’s not cool,” Steve is a little peeved, but he’s not going to let Lucas see that. Lucas doesn’t need his anger, he needs support. “Uh, why do you think Munson doesn’t like you?”

“I’ve had to miss sessions before, for away games,” Lucas shrugs. “Eddie doesn’t like when people don’t show up. Plus, he’s treated me differently since I joined the team, you know? I can tell he’s colder to me than he is Dustin or Mike. The guy's not exactly good at being subtle.”

“Hey, I’m going to go talk to him, see if I can be more persuasive. I’m not going to be cowed by Eddie Munson the same way Dustin and Mike seem to be,” Steve is aiming for reassuring.

Lucas shrugs with one shoulder, and Steve knows he doesn’t believe him. Knows Lucas thinks nothing will change, and he's not going to have his friends here for moral support. Lucas opens his mouth, then closes, before he nods to himself, like he’s made a decision, and then says, “it’s not even about getting to play the final session. I get that moving it on short notice isn’t, like, easy. I just- they’ve never even been to a game, you know? The guys on the team are great but it’s not the same. Guess it just would have been nice if they’d of picked me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Steve insists, hating the defeated look on Lucas’ face.

“Sure,” Lucas nods, “I gotta get back to practice. Thanks for trying.”

Steve watches him rejoin Jason Carver. Carver catches Steve’s eye and lifts a hand in a wave. Steve waves back before leaving the gym. He doesn’t know Carver well, but they were on the team together before Steve graduated.

Steve heads back to the green room. He can’t think of a single reason Munson wouldn’t like Lucas, he’s the politest of the kids, and most thoughtful. What’s not to like? Except in the back of Steve’s mind he remembers Billy, and how he singled out Lucas that day he broke a plate over Steve’s head. If Eddie Munson turns out to be a racist bastard, Steve will throw hands.

But perhaps it’s all just a misunderstanding? A lack of communication. Steve knows all about that. He’s had plenty of it before. He still sucks at communication despite Robin's best efforts. He is getting better, and it helps Robin makes it easy for him to open up. Having Robin to talk to has made it easier for him to speak with other people like the adult he’s trying to be. What he wouldn’t give to be able to talk to her right now. About this issue, and the waking nightmare, and about spying more on these kids while she’s at school with them because they are making poor decisions, and also, maybe, about how he finds Eddie Munson attractive (though, maybe that will go away if he gets confirmation Eddie is acting like Billy).

“-can, it’s Steve. Just you wait,” Dustin is saying when Steve steps back into the room.

“Oh no,” Erica sighs, slumping in her chair. She’s the first person to catch sight of Steve, “that’s your Disappointed Parent face.”

“I don’t have a ‘Disappointed Parent’ face,” Steve says before calling out to Munson. “Munson, Lucas thinks you don’t like him.”

“Why does he think that?” Munson stands up from where he was sitting. Steve been in enough fight or flight situations to recognize that there is a tension in Munson's body that seems to be gearing up towards fight more than flight.

“He thinks you don’t like him because he’s missed previous games. Thinks you don’t like him so much that he had to have Dustin and Mike ask about this game because he believes you’d have said no immediately to him,” Steve steps further into the room and he can almost physically see the hackles raise on the older members, like they’re gearing up to jump to Munson’s defense. Steve’s not going to get physical, he doesn’t want to. He just wants to talk to Munson.

“I don’t hate him, but the budding jock made his choice,” Munson scoffs, dismissive.

And that’s it, Steve thinks. Munson doesn’t like jocks and he’s singling out Lucas. He’s a little relieved that it’s not racially charged, but it still leaves Steve angry, so his mouth starts running before his brain. He’s on the defensive. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, Munson. You don’t get to bully people around here. It’s only okay for you to be the bully, huh?”

“Of the two of us, Harrington, I’m not the fucking bully,” Munson moves away from the table, rounds it like he’s going to get into Steve’s face, but Gareth reaches out and grabs his elbow when Munson passes by him, stopping Munson in his tracks.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Steve fires back. “I was a dick in high school, yeah, but I grew the fuck up. You’re singling out a fifteen-year-old because he wants to, what, play sports? Making him choose between the two? That’s fucked up.”

“Again, I didn’t fucking make him choose!”

“Whatever,” Steve says, dismissive because Eddie’s not the real problem here. The real issue is that Lucas wants his best friends to pick him and they didn’t. “Lucas is allowed to like sports and nerd things. And you two,” he pivots to point between Dustin and Mike now, “are being kind of shitty right now. After everything you’ve gone through together, you couldn’t stick by his side for this?”

“Hey, I have to get on a plane tomorrow morning,” Mike defends himself. “If they postponed, then I wouldn’t have gotten to play!”

“So, it’s fine that Lucas can’t play, but terrible if you can’t? That’s a load of shit, Wheeler. Lucas is supposed to be your friend.”

“He is my friend-“

“Then act like it!” Steve didn’t want to play his card, but he’s going to. “Will and El aren't here anymore; are you really okay with losing Lucas, too?”

“That is not fair,” Mike’s voice is oddly even for how angry he looks as he stands up to meet Steve's eye level instead of looking up at him.

“Steve, you’re being defensive, right now,” Dustin says, and Steve hears the message he’s trying to get across. Hears Dustin’s words from earlier ‘you’re an asshole when you’re defensive’. It makes him take a deep breath in because it’s true. He is being an asshole right now, which is exactly what Munson and the other Hellfire members thought he’d be. He’s not going to win them over and get them to see his point like that. Not when he's attacking them. And Mike.

Steve turns back to Munson now, trying to sound calmer as he says, “If you want Lucas to believe you don’t hate him, you’d go to the game, too.”

“Lucas can draw his own conclusion about how I feel. I’m not responsible for his emotions, Harrington,” Munson growls, clearly not a forgiving person.

“You’re right, but you’re also older than him and should take some responsibility for how you act around him,” Steve says, trying to be the bigger person here but he must admit it’s tough. “He thinks you’re being shitty to him, on purpose. He thinks you treat him differently than you do Dustin or Mike. And that’s fucked up. He’s just a kid, he looks up to you, and he's been through enough.”

Munson doesn’t argue back. He stands there, but he does look like he’s thinking about what Steve said, so that’s something.

There’s a shuffling sound and it draws Steve’s attention. Dustin is standing, shoving his things into his backpack. He doesn’t say anything, but he does look at Mike. The two seem to have a silent conversation because after a moment Mike nods, and begins to gather his stuff, too.

Steve’s proud they’re doing the right thing.

“So, you two are out?” Munson’s voice isn’t nearly as angry as it was before. Instead, it's flat. He’d almost call it monotone if not for the fact it did sound like a question.

“Steve’s right,” Dustin says as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, “Lucas does really want to be here. He sounded real upset when he asked us to talk to you about changing the day of the game. I also really want to play, it’s going to suck missing the final session, but it’s going to suck more to bail on a years-long friendship.”

“Yeah. Lucas has never bailed on us,” Mike adds, even though he sounds upset for agreeing.

Erica lets out a put-upon sigh, “he has bailed on me, but never when it mattered, I guess. I expect that you’re buying the tickets, Steve?”

“Unbelievable!” Munson throws his hands in the air, which pulls Steve’s attention to him. He catches the look on his face; Eddie Munson looks… hurt?

Steve’s stomach turns a little and he scrambles to figure out how to settle it. “A compromise?” Steve offers. “Mike, when are you back?”

“Uhh, the plane is supposed to land Thursday afternoon; I’ll be back in town that night sometime.”

“Great,” Steve looks to Munson. “Can you guys play next Friday, or even Thursday night if Mike isn’t jet-lagged too much?”

“School’s locked up next week,” Dustin says.

“What about your basement, Mike?”

“Won’t fit all of us,” Mike says. “It was barely enough room when it was just Dustin, Lucas, Will, and I. The table's not big enough.”

“Plus, it stinks like boy,” Erica wrinkles her nose, “unwashed, gross boy.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Yes, it is,” Steve says, even though he hasn’t been in the Wheelers’ basement since he and Nancy were together.

“Steve, I have a compromise,” Erica says. “Regarding a promise you made to me. For life.”

Erica now has Steve’s full attention. “Yes, Erica?”

“We play at your house next Friday. You will provide snacks and pizza,” she says it like it’s decided, before pointing her finger at Steve, then dragging her hand through the air to point at everyone, “and all you nerds will stop bickering like old people. You’ll also have to buy our tickets because I didn’t bring any money. In return, I will shorten your life debt to the day after I graduate from high school.”

“Done! Deal!” Steve accepts instantly, because a day of snacks and pizza will be so much cheaper than a lifetime supply of ice cream. He knows Erica would have held him to that for, quite literally, his entire life. “I’ll be buying all the basketball tickets, and just tell me what pizza you want. That work for everyone?”

“Your parents will be okay with that?” Dustin asks.

Right. He forgets about the major secrets he keeps from the kids sometimes. “Oh, they’ll be gone by Friday for sure so no issue. So, will that work for everyone?”

The older members of Hellfire exchange glances, and, one by one, they all say yes. Even Munson.

Erica stalks up to Steve, stopping just in front of him, hand out, palm up. With a sigh, Steve pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and drops it into Erica’s hand. “I’ll get back to you on the pizza I want. I’ll go buy tickets. Are you all coming?”

The other three members look surprised, but it's Gareth that speaks, “Uh, Harrington’s not gonna buy-“

“I said are. You. Coming?” Erica repeats, hands on her hips.

“Yes,” Gareth says, then looks surprised he agreed. Erica has that effect on people.

Erica gives one nod and heads out the door. Slowly the rest pick up their things and follow. Steve goes to follow, too, but the rolling in his stomach returns. He’s not done here.

He waits until everyone has left before turning to Munson. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry for coming in here and like, immediately attacking you. That wasn’t cool of me.”

Munson looks him over before scoffing. “It’s whatever, man.”

“It’s really not,” Steve says. “I know that, like, a lot of work goes into this game and I’m sorry. So, like, if you want anything extra, or need something for the game next week, I’ll get it. I’ll help however I can.”

Munson pauses in the middle of his clean up, to look up at Steve and study him for a while. Steve’s just starting to get antsy when Munson speaks again, “I don’t know if I hate you or not.”

There's absolutely no reason Steve should be hurt by that statement, but he is. He can't show that to Munson though, so he says, “That’s fair.”

“I’ve got to know, Harrington. How’d this group of kids get to be so important to you?” Munson goes back to gathering up the stuff on the table. "Why is their continued friendship important to you?"

Steve moves to help, and Munson doesn’t shoo him away. “I used to babysit them. Try and keep them out of trouble, which is impossible because they’re too fucking curious and smart. That’s a godawful combination, you know?”

Munson doesn’t laugh but he does quirk one corner of his mouth upwards. “My uncle would agree with you.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t need a babysitter anymore but-“ Steve cuts himself off because he’s not sure what to say. But they’re bonded by shared trauma and grief? That they have to stick together because the Byers left, and Hopper’s dead, and they can’t lose anyone else because it might be too much loss, and he’ll just fall apart? “But they’re family now. They can be a bunch of shitheads, but I love them. And they hate it when I say this, but they should get to be kids as long as they can.”

A long silence follows that as Steve follows Munson's lead of picking stuff up and stacking it all at the end of the table by the throne.

“Help me load what I’ll need for the session next week into my van and I’ll think about forgiving you for ruining this one,” Munson says once everything is gathered.

Steve agrees (probably too eagerly and quickly if the look Munson shoots him is anything to go by) and between the two of them they make quick work of it. Before they take the last armfuls out, Steve steals a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling his number and a question on it before shoving the paper in his pocket and the pencil back in the case. Then he scoops up what he can and follows Munson to his van.

They don’t talk on the walk from the van to the gym, which is fine by Steve because he doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. He's just glad Munson didn't climb in the van and leave, and is, actually going to come to the game. They get to the gym and find Dustin sitting on the sidewalk waiting for them with their tickets. As soon as they’re in the gym Steve’s eyes go for the marching band, looking for Robin. He finds her quickly and they have a completely silent conversation.

‘Why are you entering the gym with the Hellfire club?’

‘Long story, I’ll explain it later.’

‘You better, dingus.’

Then Dustin is pushing him down onto a bench next to Mike and taking the seat beside him, patting the open seat next to him for Munson to sit. Munson sits rather than climbing the bleachers to join the rest of Hellfire and Erica in the top row, and Steve finds he’s not surprised Munson obeyed. Dustin is very likable for being an annoying know-it-all.

Steve scans the gym, looking for anyone else he might know and- “Oh, shit.” He ducks backwards and down, trying to hide behind Dustin.

“What, what is it?” Dustin asks, scanning the crowd for what Steve saw.

“Brenda.”

“What?”

“Brenda!” Steve hisses, “I, uh, I stood her up. To come to your game instead.”

Sudden movement beside Dustin startles Steve but it takes only a second to realize it’s just Munson, swiveling to look at Steve, eyes big and eyebrows hidden in his hairline. “You ditched a date to play DnD?”

Steve and Munson just look at each other for a moment before Steve feels his face get hot with embarrassment. “Like I said. Dustin asked.”

Munson shakes his head like he can’t believe him and turns back to the court.

When Steve drags his attention back to the court, Tammy Thompson is making her way to the center to sing the anthem and Steve has to find Robin’s eyes again, just to make an ‘I Told You So’ face when Tammy starts singing. She sticks her tongue out at him and the girl next to her must say something because it pulls her attention from Steve.

Now that the teams have gathered and are standing for this wonderful rendition of the anthem, Steve looks for Lucas and finds him quickly.

Lucas finds them a few moments later, and his face lights up when he sees the whole club sitting there. The last bit of nausea that Steve hadn't even been aware of fades away.

Everyone stays for the whole game, which surprises Steve. He expected the older members to dip after the cheer routine. It means they all get to see Lucas make the winning shot. The whole club stands with Steve to scream and cheer, and once Lucas is done being swarmed by his teammates, he gets swarmed by the club members.

Then they’re splitting up; Lucas is going to celebrate with his teammates, so Steve tells him to make smart choices. Before everyone vanishes into the night, though, Steve chases Munson down, halfway to his van in the back of the parking lot.

“Hey, Munson, wait!”

Munson does wait, turning as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Harrington. Not done turning my night upside down?”

Steve almost flinches at the word choice. “Nah, man. Just wanted to give you my number.”

“Your number?” Munson says with just a hint of laughter in his voice and Steve's heart skips over itself. What the hell was that?

“Yeah. So that when it’s closer to the Dungeons game you can call, let me know the time that works for you all. Maybe even drop off some of that stuff I helped you load before the game? Whatever makes it easier for you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I don’t have a pen on me-“

“No issue. Already wrote it down,” Steve says, pulling the paper from his pocket, offering it to Munson.

He reaches out slowly and takes it, balling his fist around it without looking at it, eyes locked onto Steve's face. The nearest light source is behind Steve, so he's not sure what Eddie's looking for, but it leaves Munson's face illuminated enough for him to look back.

Steve's never had a problem thinking Munson was objectively attractive. He's always gotten hot under the collar for people who push back against him and challenge him, which Munson did a lot of when they were in school together. Steve deserved all the pushback he got, he's honest enough to admit to himself. That being said, Steve's never seen Munson with his guard down. Even at Hellfire tonight his hackles were raised the whole time. But now, under the barely-there glow from the lamp post behind Steve, he looks... amused? The angry furrow that usually resides on his brow every second he's in Steve's company is gone, smoothed out. There's the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

Then, as abruptly as the stare-down started, it ends, Munson turning on his heel and heading off into the night without another word.

“Okay then. Have a good night! See you next week!” Steve shouts at his retreating form and heads back to the gym, where Dustin is probably waiting for a ride even though he’s supposed to be hitching one with Nancy and Mike, and Robin will no doubt be expecting that explanation he wordlessly promised her. Steve wishes Munson had opened the note. He wants to know what kind of face he’ll make when he sees that, below Steve’s number, he wrote Truce?

#gut instinct #my fic #steddie #steddiebang24

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nerd-fandom-drabbles · 29 days ago

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A Special Kind of Stupid pt. 2

Description: Bellara vibe-checks Lucanis while they prepare the evening meal. Part 2 to this piece.

842 words

Characters: Lucanis, Bellara, and Spite

Pairings: Lucanis x femme Rook looms heavily but is unseen

Genre: Friendship <333333

Content warnings: Pining, cuteness, fluff

WARNING: This may contain some very, very light spoilers for Veilguard pre-release gameplay footage.

As usual, this was written before the game's release.

That evening, Lucanis had cleaned up quickly in preparation for another long supper preparation session with Bellara. They stood in the dimming light of the sunset-stained kitchen surrounded by cold baskets of shrimp, oysters, and fish; laughing and recounting the day's battles.

After a few minutes of chopping fish and deveining shrimp for the evening dish - a seafood paella - Bellara started shifting awkwardly. They had spent enough time together by now for Lucanis to know there was something on her mind, but he didn't pry. He figured she'd get to it when she was ready.

“So. A little birdie told me you've been flirting with Rook.”

He nearly chopped off his fingertip, “Ah!” Dammit, Neve.

“Don't freak out! I just wanted to ask... about your intentions,” Bellara's tone was kind but her eyes were piercing, “She's under a lot of pressure, and there's a lot going on. So.”

“You're worried I'll hurt her.”

“Obviously, you'll hurt her,” Spite chimed in nonchalantly, “Or get her killed.”

“I just don't know what kind of man you are... romantically. You're a great friend,” Bellara started, “But, some guys are great as friends and terrible as lovers, you know?”

“Yes, I'm aware." His cousin's many questionable dalliances came to mind immediately. He shook his head to clear it of the past, “My interest in her is genuine.”

“What do you like about her?” She stopped her chopping, watching him closely.

He thought for a few moments, and then sighed deeply, “Everything.”

“Wow. That's heavy.”

“I tend to be intense about these things.”

“No kidding?” She cocked her head and smiled, “I guess I can see that. You're reserved. Intentional.”

Have to be with a demon in your head, he thought.

But the truth was that even before Spite complicated his life, he had been the same way. Always nursing some painful, tortured little crush. He never acted on them. He wouldn't have dreamt of it. And even if he had, he was certain that they wouldn't have reciprocated. The notion was almost absurd. He was a weapon. And weapons didn't take lovers.

Still, he wanted to tell her more. About how terrified he had been when he first noticed he was developing feelings for Rook. The endless nights he'd spent pining or trying to distract himself from pining, only to then be tormented by Spite about the pining. The eventual, slow acceptance of his feelings. Or the fact that, even now, he had no idea what he was doing or why it was that Rook seemed to reciprocate... despite everything.

Rook was a distraction and a curse, but of the very best kind. And the truth was that though he fought desperately to keep his feet on the ground, his heart had threatened other plans.

There were truly so, so many things he wanted to tell his friend about how he felt, but he couldn't find the right words. Nor the courage.

“Are you going to tell her what I've told you?” He asked, after a moment.

“Oh no! I would never interfere. And I'm not, like, compiling a dossier. Just looking out for two of my favorite people.”

“Aw.”

“Disgusting,” Spite snarled.

“Can I hug you?” Bellara asked suddenly, placing down her knife.

He looked down at his bloodied apron, “I'm going to get fish guts all over you.”

“He says, as if I'm not already covered in fish guts,” she raised an eyebrow.

He let out a little chuckle and set down his knife. Once he did, she basically threw herself at him, enveloping him in a huge, warm hug. It was an unusual display of affection for him. He could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd been on the receiving end of a hug from a friend.

“You're alright, Crow,” she murmured into his chest. After a few moments she pulled away, giving him a little tap on the shoulder. “Just take care of our girl, okay?”

He nodded warmly and she turned her attention back to her chopping board.

Lucanis was no stranger to the camaraderie that emerged between Crows. Relying on others to have your back in battle or to provide good intelligence by necessity resulted in a form of closeness. But there was something sweet, gentle, and intimate about his new friendships within the Veilguard. They were different types of people, he supposed. Ones that tended to be emotionally open in a way that made him comfortable expressing and doing things that he wouldn't normally. And in exchange, he found himself feeling full and satisfied in a way he didn't usually feel.

His warm feelings were accompanied by a rush of protectiveness. If anything were to happen to any of these people, he would run rampant and wash the streets red with blood.

“So, what are you going to name your kids? I'm thinking...”

He threw his head back and groaned, as Bellara burst into a powerful bout of laughter.

“Kidding. Kidding,” she giggled, “I'd be a great auntie though, and you know it.”

#dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age veilguard #fanfic #fanfiction #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rook x lucanis #veilguard fanfic #bellara lutare #bellara and lucanis are bffs and you can't convince me otherwise #friends that cook together stay together

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fandoms-in-law · 4 months ago

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That Bitch's Boundaries

Summary: Steve decides that to make the point about him having boundaries the boys teasing has gone over he isn't giving them lifts until he gets an apology. He gets to bitch at Nancy and Jonathan over how things have happened between them when they try to interfere with that.

Author's note: Most of this was written while I was working and frankly, I CBA to add in descriptions of actions and tone anymore than I already have done. But I do like having fics that are just or at least mostly speech occasionally

My Idea for Today: Steve turns the story back on the party. If they keep bringing up shit from his past, he'll do the same. "Okay Nance, let's talk about bullshit." "Sure Jonathan, wanna talk about creeping? About taking pictures through bedroom windows?"

/\/\

“Hey Dustin, quick question. I know where your too far line for teasing is, but where’s mine?”

Blank looks met him from most of the boys, though Will looked thoughtful. “You- You don’t have any.”

“You don’t notice them, do you?” He raised an eyebrow looking over all the kids. “Even when you always push past them. So is it all your friends who aren’t allowed boundaries like that, or should I start enforcing them with no lifts or last minute movie nights?”

/\/\

“Steve, Mike said you aren’t doing your job any more.”

Steve glanced around Family Video then down at himself pointedly. “You ask while I am working, Nancy. Maybe trust your eyes over Mike on this one.”

“You’re refusing to give them lifts or have them over, why?”

“Excuse me? I might do that a lot, but it isn’t my job and they don’t want me around. The amount of insults thrown my way says everything.”

“King Steve can’t take some teasing?”

“Constant insults isn’t some teasing.”

“Just pick them up and stop ignoring -” Nancy began but Steve cut her off.

“Bullshit. They’d ignored me saying my boundaries were crossed. They can cycle and deal with consequences. But you never did, did you? Let’s revisit bullshit with the party later.” Robin appeared in his eyeline, nodding supportively out of Nancy’s view.

“I don’t think that’s needed. It would be-”

He cut her off again. “Pointing out that you weren’t innocent in the break up which Mike at least believes you were. You don’t order me around and should never order someone to forgive other, Nancy.”

/\/\

“Byers, what’s up?”

“Nancy asked me to talk to you. Get you to talk to the kids again.”

“Oh, I’m still talking to El and Will, don’t worry about that.”

“The rest of them?”

“Can apologise first.”

“For saying shit? Like you’ve never done that.” Jonathan scoffed.

“Tell me how Will would react to learning that when he was missing you were taking creep shots through me window and then decide if having boundaries against the kids is so bad.”

/\/\

“Harrington?”

“Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

“How far did the shitheads go for you to do this or was it the frequency?”

“Mostly the frequency. You’re not pushing for me to forgive them?”

“Wouldn’t work and Robin’s gone guard dog in here since Byers tried that. You’re a bitch but you’re still allowed boundaries. What was the too far point beyond how often they said shit?”

“Doesn’t matter, normal ‘Steve couldn’t figure anything out’ shit.” Steve paused at the twitch in Eddie’s expression, “I know that look; What are you scheming?”

“Most of those assholes get the point better if its an NPC. Apologised to Lucas and got the scorn for jocks Mike and Dustin had started copying gone in one session. You up for helping me make a character you to make the point?”

“Sure, any of their characters have siblings? Nance and Jonathan have back stories I’d like fitting in somehow.” Steve had implied that he’d keep quiet if the pair backed off, but that didn’t stop him from getting the kids to question what they didn’t know about happening more.

“Bitch.” Eddie grinned. “Lady Applejack does, unconnected to Lucas and Dustin has a brother too. I think because he wanted to talk you into playing. Kid’s beginning to mope now; 2 weeks without you. Has he tried apologising?”

“Blamed Steve for it all while claiming to apologise.” Robin called, passing them to re-shelve some videos.

“She won’t let me accept half-arsed apologies and is writing up a boundary list for me to use. I was gonna bring back the you suck board instead. 5 strikes and they’ve gone too far so no lifts for some amount of time.”

“Glad to have Guard Dog Buckley on the case.”

“Woof.” She called over, deadpan for a moment before laughing with them.

/\/\

Steve didn’t like refusing the kids lifts or movie nights. He loved them and sometimes could only believe everything was over if he had them all close by. He just couldn’t deny that their constant criticisms and insults hurt him. They might have started off teasing but each day felt more and more genuine and harder to brush off.

When he mentioned it, Robin said he didn’t have to accept it, just because they smiled and included him specifically a lot of the time, and it stuck in his mind. So he put this in place, and even tried writing out an explanation that he’d given to Nancy when she left after failing to convince him to give them lifts again.

It was meant for the kids to read, but she’d read it while stood outside Family Video and he’d watched her throw it to the back seat of her car so Steve doubted the kids ever saw it.

That was until they turned up outside his house after the next Hellfire session and Mike pulled it from his bag, a glare shot in the direction of the Wheeler’s home. “Steve? Can we talk?” He asked, tone making it sound like a demand.

He was still holding the page when they were all seated in Steve’s living room. “Nance didn’t give us this. I found it in her car when I was looking for something else. When did she get it?” He now sounded carefully neutral.

“About a week and a half ago.” Steve simply replied.

“Eddie made you an NPC today!” Dustin burst out excitedly, but dimmed after as if the character had been a difficult part of the days campaign.

Steve nodded at him, wondering if more was going to be said on that. “I know, helped make the character even. Didn’t ask how it would fit in the story though.”

Erica rolled her eyes, bringing Steve’s attention to her. She hadn’t been involved in the no-lifts, or normal support, weeks, so he wasn’t sure why she was here if the rest were intending to apologise. “So that stuff with my older sister, was that something that happened with Nancy?”

“Munson changed those connections but at least sort of.” He hedged, having forgotten how the characters related to the party since talking through the character creation with Eddie.

“Then my brother stood in for Jonathan?” Dustin asked, voice quiet as if questioning his place again. Steve was used to jumping in to prove those thoughts wrong, but couldn’t with everyone around, even ignoring the reason this discussion was happening.

Steve twisted a little there, before replying, “More or less, but that was changed the most to fit your campaign and the setting. Couldn’t edit your backstory to make it fit more either.”

The boys all looked at him closely for a moment before Will coughed, “I’ll ask him later, since you don’t want to share more.”

“Thanks for picking up on that. Just remember, we’ve all grown up and changed since any of that happened.” Steve cautioned, knowing how easy it can be to assume something just learnt is recent for the people actually involved in it.

“Which was when?” Lucas asked.

Mike’s expression twisted, “Nancy’s stuff I guess was the Halloween Will got possessed, but you and Jonathan have always barely talked.”

“It’s better if will asks about it and decides if he wants to share then. I’m not going over that with all of you right now.” It was an uneasy thought, to consciously be refusing to talk about one of the few things they could through all the Upside Down experiences.

“Fine.” Mike’s grumble had him fighting a smirk, maybe it would do the kids some good to not be told all the drama.

Dustin leant forwards now, “And we are sorry. It was cruel of us.” He began, Lucas and Mike nodding along with him while Will hunched in uncomfortably and Erica glared at them judgementally. “I didn’t realise it happened so much, Steve. You’re like my brother and I’ve hated not seeing you these last two weeks.”

“Me too, but I felt shit about myself hearing everyone you’ve been saying.” Steve nodded, but held his arms open. “Come on, you’ve got some apologising still to do, but let’s hug it out now.”

There was no hesitation when Dustin hurried into the hug.

Lucas barely waited for them to separate before going, “But why stop talking to Erica? I get us, like we went too far with teasing you, but she’s the same to everyone.”

“He didn’t. How long till you’d have tried making me get him to talk to you if you’d known? Steve gave me 2 ice cream deliveries, one each week, and let me know what was going on. Why do you think my dice got left in Nancy’s car? Now can I get revenge on anyone over this mess?” Erica stated, as ever able to make everyone else sound dumb for not realising what had been done.

Lucas Mike and Dustin all yelled, “We’re apologising! There’s no need!” in a rush, looking so scared by what Erica might come up with that Steve couldn’t hold back a snicker.

“Then get to apologising, dumbasses.” She gestured back to Steve and leant back fully intending to wait and watch.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic steddie #steve & the party #Steve Harrington is that bitch #steve & dustin

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cher-rei · 9 months ago

Text

afterglow- pt 5 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 5.4k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

notes: it's finally here!! only took like 70 years.

a few months had passed since you were first employed. it was now late november, and oh boy had it been an interesting yet stressful few months not just for you, but the team as well.

robbo and thiago were out due to injuries, and there was no telling when they were coming back. your mum was breathing down your neck all the way from london, asking when you were finally coming to visit seen as it's been nearly a year, your nephew alex was sick with chicken pox and in order to stay in your healthy state you decided to stay with your dad for 2 weeks.

and now you were sitting in the booth beside clara, your knee bouncing up and down as you watched manchester city eat your team up alive with 30 minutes left on the clock.

how fun.

oh, and did I mention that you and trent hadn't gotten the opportunity to have a proper conversation in nearly 2 weeks...

it was going so well. there wasn't really telling what "it" was, but you felt it. you felt it whenever he smiled at you, whenever he replied to you story or commented on your Instagram posts, when he would ask you to join him for his session in the gym instead of taking your break in the cafeteria— and sure as hell when he gave you that look.

the one you caught him giving you from the other side of the room. even if you weren't looking you could feel his gaze boring into your head and it took every nerve in your body not to look back at him. you were too afraid of drowning yourself in even more delusions.

but that bit of time that you shared was cut short after a surprise appearance at the luton match two weeks prior.

the surprise was dressed in a liverpool jersey with trent's number at the back and by the look on his face when he saw, it didn't take a lot for you to realise that it was his jersey.

you don't even know how she got into the tunnel, but she didn't waste a second and jumped into his arms. you watched his facial expression flicker from utter confusion to slight hurt. but why?

she pulled away from the hug and beamed up at him, "did you miss me?"

that was a sign to keep your distance.

there wasn't anything going on between you anyway. perhaps just a slight moment, a flicker of something more, but it didn't last, and you didn't bother either.

before you knew it, the ref had finally blown the whistle for full-time not too long after trent managed to score a goal. that boy was nothing short of a miracle.

"I think we need to consider putting haaland into a temporary coma," you suggested jokingly as you followed ali and virgil through the tunnel and of course only ali found it somewhat funny, whereas virgil narrowed his eyes at you.

you raised your hands in defense, "I was kidding."

the team's captain let out an unconvincing hum and opened the changing room door for you to enter before the post-match interview. he continued to go on about how the team just wasn't on their a game today, meaning that their heads were all elsewhere.

"we were nervous that's all, and I'm sure the stats will be more of a tell tale for that," he said and sat down on the bench with a sigh.

you let out a scoff, "save that for the interview not me. but seriously," your face scrunched in slight emphathy, "they were practically walking through you."

virgil sat up at the comment and was just about to answer when someone else chimed in. "first of all!"

your head dropped at the sound of cutis' voice as he entered the room. "you try running around for 90 minutes with expectations as big as virgil's forehead."

the room fell silent, and you immediately expected virgil to have curtis stuffed inside one of the lockers, but to everyone's surprise, he just nodded in agreement.

after a few minutes of banter, virgil left for the post-match interview, leaving everyone else to gather their things and get them to the bus which you were more than delighted to do. it had been a tiring week, work hours were insane even though you were barely at the office.

if you weren't prepping for the extra content that you'd be shooting the following week, then you were making phone calls to sponsors, answering journalists, finalising any media content that needed to put out on time or overseeing practices then you were sleeping.

even now as you were sitting on the bus beside dominik, while your eyes averted their focus from your laptop that was situated on your lap to your phone in your hand with clara's chat open.

"okay, I see you, multitasker," he said with an impressed chuckle that managed to make your eyes roll. he leaned over your shoulder a bit to get a better look at the email displayed on your laptop screen.

"dear ms carter," he began with mock enthusiasm. "regarding my previous email blah blah-- boring."

you couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his lack of interest, knowing very well how he felt. "is this all you do? reply to boring emails?"

your nose scrunched in disagreement at the question. "without these boring emails you'd be living in shambles. and besides," a sigh escaped your lips as you finished typing your response. "my job is more than just emails. I get to travel, I get to meet awesome people--"

"--awesome people like me of course," dominik interjected with a grin and you pursed your lips.

"I was talking about literally anyone else."

"she was talking about me!" mo yelled from the back and you nodded in absolute agreement.

"so are you making the trip or not?"

you've been on the same phone call for the past ten minutes, trying to be reasonable with someone as stubborn as a 7-year-old before their bedtime on a friday.

and you were starting to think that winning this battle was pointless, because he'd get his way regardless.

"I have a busy schedule, bro I've been telling you this. I start filming today and--"

"--you can take two days off jamie. please."

you let out an exasperated sigh as you stepped out onto the training field, where the camera crew were setting up, and giving the team a rundown of how today was going to play out.

"I still have a job to do you know? just because they're not playing doesn't mean I don't have things to do," your answer came out more sarcastic than you intended but he just wasn't listening.

"you're lucky that I didn't ask for you to stay the entire month and asked for a weekend instead. I'd be happy with anything at this point."

okay, he had a point there. and you were starting to get fed up with this back and forth, knowing that you weren't going to get your way.

you barely found time for yourself, but now that you though about it an off weekend didn't sound too bad.

you let out a sigh, "I still need to go back home to london to see my mum."

a loud bang echoed through the receiver end, "you'll find time to see her. the flight is already booked, you'll be gone by tuesday and back for thursday for your match. you won't be missing out."

once again, there was no point in arguing so you just hummed in response, a ghost of a smile present on your lips. "you better make that week worth it."

what was the point in staying for a few days? might as well stay from the tuesday till the following monday. you already told jurgen about it, complaining about how persistent the boy was being but the team's manager wasn't helping your case and instead suggested that you go.

"don't be boring jamie. it's not like we're going to die on this side without you."

"week??" the excitement was evident in his voice, and you tried so hard to fight back a smile, but what came next was enough to make you beam.

"that goal will be for you, i promise. i'll even do some stupid shit to make sure everyone knows that it's for you."

fucking sweet talker.

"shut up, I'm leaving bye."

when you ended the call, you were immediately called over by one of the directors so you could be miced up. you spent a few minutes running through the agenda for the team's newest series, Up! The Reds!

it took forever to think of a good name so don't even. you had the entire media team sit in for a meeting just for a good title until you just settled for this one. it was a process okay...

every week, along with Inside Training, an episode of at least 30 minutes would be uploaded where the team would compete in various challenges and games against each other with you as a host. so for this week's episode, you figured that you'd start out with a field day segment.

three legged races, sack races, an egg and spoon race, and musical chairs.

nothing like grown men doing preschool field day challenges.

spamjam._. added to their story

"welcome to the first episode of Up! The Reds!"

you heard a snort from the group of boys on either side of you. "that's the title?" curtis called out, trying to suppress his laughter and you forced a smile at the camera.

"how about you stop talking and let me do my job?" you asked passive-aggressively, the smile deepening into that of irritation and he quickly apologised and cleared his throat, ushering for you to continue.

when you were finally done with the introduction, you had everyone play a quick of rock paper scissors to split them into pairs for the first game, the three legged race.

"okay so we have kostas and macca, mo and ibou--" a laugh escaped your lips as you paired the two up and handed them the bandana, ibou taking it with a heavy sigh and a head shake.

he walked mo's way, complaining about how he was going to have him dragging on the floor but everyone was too busy laughing to even consider that slight issue. "It's for the entertainment, it's fine," virgil spoke up and pat him on the back.

you cleared your throat and got back to reading out the groups with a smile. "dom and jarell, cody and darwin, ali and virgil- oh I love that. joe and endo, and lastly curtis and shorty."

harvey walked past you with a look of disgust, obviously having to look up at you. "I hate you."

"what?" you bent down a bit and put you hand to your ear. "I can't hear you."

that had the entire media crew doubling over, and you couldn't help but feel a swarm of warmth spread through your chest. you didn't quite know why, but you didn't ponder and let the moment flow naturally.

once everyone had calmed down, you clutched tighter onto the last bandana in your hand when trent spoke up. "what about me?"

a smile drew to your lips and you lifted the bandana in your hand, waving it from side to side. "you're with me. it's bonding time. literally."

it didn't take too long for everyone to actually get into the line. the winners would be decided via process of elimination, two pairs at a time until there was a winning team. nothing complicated. the first pairs to compete with each other were ali and virgil, and kostas and macca.

the rest of the team sat along the side to watch the race, cameras out and excited smiles while they cheered for their teammates. the distance that they were wasn't too long you hoped, but you needed something good enough for their too be a struggle.

"ready... set... go!" you blew your whistle and they were off with waddles and screams of struggle. it was a mess right from the get-go and you loved every bit of it.

you watched as virgil and ali struggled, and surprisingly kostas and macca were in the lead.

while they screamed and tried to find a rhythm, nearly tipping over multiple times, kostas and macca's counting could be heard as they kept their determined eyes on the ground. "one, two. one, two. one, two."

the early afternoon air was filled with laughter and screaming as everyone enjoyed the array of games that were set out for them. from an absolute mess, and nearly breaking their legs in the three-legged race, and to the smart idea of playing catch with am egg, to endo rolling around in the sack to finish line instead of hopping, and to the wwe showdown of musical chairs that you won.

"you cheater," trent said as he got up from the floor while you sat on the last chair, a proud smile on your face as the rest of the team applauded you.

he walked over to you with a smile of disbelief, trying to argue his point. "you can't kick the chair away and throw me to the floor. that's such a foul."

you shrugged innocently, "tactics my boy."

you wrapped up filming after 4 hours, and you were happy to say that everyone had a good time. it was finally time to go home though, and you needed a shower immediately.

you bid your goodbyes to everyone and hopped into your car without a second thought, your mind drifting off until you got home to hear the most heartwarming call of your name.

"jamie!"

"alex!"

when you were done settling in for the evening, as usual, you spent some time cutting down on the clips of today's filming before you could send them back to the filming crew for final editing. you sat at your desk with one leg up on your chair covered by a blanket and some snacks as you watched through the clips.

you caught yourself laughing more than you hoped. you thought back to your time in the field during all of this, and a smile drew to your lips, then you felt your eyes fixate on someone. your eyes unknowingly followed his every motion, watching as the distance between the two of you decreased as you spoke to each other.

it felt a bit awkward at first when you partnered up with trent but as time progressed the atmosphere eased back into its comfortability. in the moment it didn't feel like much because your mind was occupied with other things but now that you were watching everything back, you could get a closer look at certain things. and then you caught it.

the look.

you were trying to help darwin get the egg on the spoon, standing nowhere near trent but his eyes were on you. a glint of something in his eyes. but that was the issue.

it was only something. the feeling was frustrating, and it was worse that you couldn't even act on it. he had a girlfriend or whatever she was. her name was skylar, and judging by the look robbo gave her the day she came back— she must've done something wrong.

normally you would let this thing with trent play out and entertain it out of curiosity but you had to push your feelings to the side and suck up whatever pride you had and accept that he had someone... kind of.

a heavy sigh left your lips and you ran your fingers through your hair. "fucking hell jamie."

just as you were about to shut off your pc and take refuge under your bed covers, your phone began to ring. it was almost pitiful to see how quickly you answered the call the second you saw it was trent.

"hey, are you busy?"

your breath hitched at the sound of his voice.

pathetic.

your eyes roamed your room in contemplation. "uh, no. I just finished cutting down some clips for editing." you blinked a few times at the silence, "why?"

trent's chuckle vibrated through the speaker and you swear you could feel it in your stomach. "I just felt like calling you."

your eyes widened a fraction. "oh."

OH????

"yeah." there was a beat of silence, neither of you knowing what to say. "do you want to go for a drive?"

#trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer imagine #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x reader #liverpool x reader #fanfic #football imagine #footballer x you #trent alexander arnold fanfic #afterglow trent alexander arnold #friends to lovers #cherrei writes

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