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goldfades · 11 hours ago

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paige bueckers x medic reader blurb

idk why this has been on my mind but here's something to feed you guys while i recover from whatever the fuck last semester was

here’s the thing about paige bueckers: she’s annoying.

not in the throw-your-clipboard, tear-your-hair-out kind of way, but in the she’s-too-charming-for-her-own-good kind of way. the kind that makes your pulse skitter and your cheeks burn, and—worst of all—she knows it.

you’re certain she figured it out the first time she winked at you during pre-season. she’d just finished a shooting drill, her braid swinging like a metronome as she jogged over to your side of the court, flashing that grin—the one that’s equal parts mischief and sunshine.

“think i’m pushing it too hard, doc?” she asked, her hand brushing yours when you handed her a water bottle. your stuttered response? a dead giveaway.

and now, it’s practically her sport. teasing you, that is. not basketball though she’s otherworldly at that too. but here she is, six months post-acl surgery, stuck in the monotony of rehab, and somehow still making you feel like the one who’s sweating under bright gym lights.

“you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” her voice cuts through your focus as you jot down notes on her progress for the day. when you glance up, she’s watching you from the training table, her injured leg stretched out in front of her, an ice pack wrapped snug around her knee. her head tilts, blonde strands falling loose from her messy bun, and there it is—that look.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that,” you mutter, knowing full well she’s waiting for you to take the bait.

she leans back on her elbows, her lips curving into a slow smile. “i’m just saying, if you don’t stay close, how am i supposed to recover? pretty sure moral support is in your job description.”

you roll your eyes, even as your heart hammers against your ribs. “pretty sure my job description is making sure you don’t blow out your knee again, bueckers.”

“so you do care about me.” her voice lilts, sing-song and undeniably smug, and god, you’re starting to regret all the years you spent chasing a degree instead of learning how to mask a blush.

you try not to sigh too loudly, scribbling something on the clipboard even though it’s just a nervous scribble now. she’s watching you like she knows—because, of course, she does. she always knows. it’s like she has a sixth sense for your embarrassment, and worse, she’s figured out exactly how to weaponize it.

“i care about all my patients,” you say, finally looking up from your notes to meet her gaze. it’s meant to come off clinical, professional, but the way her eyes sparkle makes you feel like you’ve said something embarrassingly sweet instead.

“but do you care about me more?” she asks, tilting her head, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

you deadpan her. “paige.”

“what?” she grins wider now, the kind of grin that should probably come with a warning label. “i’m just trying to gauge my ranking on the medic hierarchy. am i at least in the top five?”

“you’re lucky you even have a ranking,” you mutter, setting the clipboard down and moving closer to check her ice pack. you’re trying—really trying—not to make a big deal about how close you are to her now. but then her hand shifts, casually brushing against yours as she adjusts the pack herself.

and just like that, your resolve? gone.

“aww, come on,” she says softly, her voice lower now, almost teasingly gentle. “you can admit it. i’m your favorite.”

your lips press into a thin line as you busy yourself with checking the straps on the ice pack. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” she counters, and it’s so smooth, so shameless, that you actually pause mid-motion.

you glance at her, half tempted to say something snarky, but she’s already watching you with this expression that’s somehow both playful and too much. like she’s trying to figure you out and enjoy herself at the same time. it’s unfair, really.

“is this what you spend your time thinking about?” you ask, attempting to sound exasperated. “ways to embarrass me?”

“not just ways to embarrass you,” she says, and the mock sincerity in her tone is criminal. “also ways to make you smile. you should smile more, you know.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction, even though—damn it—you’re already fighting the urge to crack a grin. she sees it, of course. she always sees it.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble, stepping back to grab another piece of equipment you need for her session.

“but you like me anyway,” she calls after you, her voice sing-song.

you don’t respond this time, opting instead to take an extra moment to gather your thoughts while pretending to look for something in the cabinet. when you turn back around, she’s already back to lounging on the training table, her arms folded behind her head like she’s posing for a magazine spread.

“okay, let’s get serious,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back to anything resembling professionalism. “how’s the pain today? any stiffness?”

she shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something more serious in her expression. “a little. nothing crazy.”

“you need to let me know if it gets worse,” you remind her, stepping closer to start her mobility exercises. “overdoing it isn’t going to help your recovery.”

“yes, ma’am,” she says, her tone light, but you catch the way her eyes soften when she watches you. it’s different from her usual teasing—quieter, more thoughtful—and for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with it.

you busy yourself with guiding her through the exercises, focusing on the mechanics, the angles, the movements. but it’s hard to ignore the way she keeps glancing at you, her smile smaller now but no less present.

“you’re good at this,” she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

you blink, looking up at her. “at what?”

“this,” she gestures vaguely, her hand moving to encompass the room, the exercises, you. “taking care of people. making them feel like they’re gonna be okay, even when they’re not sure they will be.”

her words catch you off guard, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. it’s so… earnest. too earnest for someone who’s usually throwing out flirty one-liners and over-the-top winks.

“that’s… my job,” you manage to say, your voice quieter now.

she shakes her head, her gaze never leaving yours. “nah. it’s more than that. you’re more than that.”

and just like that, the air feels heavier, charged with something you can’t quite name. she doesn’t say anything else, just watches you with those impossibly blue eyes, like she’s waiting for you to say something back.

but all you can do is focus on the way your heart is racing, the way her words linger, soft and unshakable, in the space between you.

it was hard to forget the day it happened. the sound of it—a sickening pop that cut through the air like a gunshot—still haunted you sometimes, echoing in your mind when the gym got too quiet. you’d been courtside, clipboard in hand, watching as paige went down. she didn’t get up right away. that was how you knew it was bad.

paige bueckers wasn’t the type to stay down. she played like she was invincible, like nothing could touch her. but that day, she just lay there, clutching her knee, her face twisted in pain. it wasn’t just the physical agony that got to her, though; it was something deeper. you could see it in her eyes when she finally looked at you as you rushed to her side—this raw, unfiltered fear. like she’d just watched her whole world shatter in an instant.

“is it bad?” she’d asked, her voice barely above a whisper as you carefully assessed her knee. there was a tremble in it that you weren’t used to hearing, and it made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“we’re gonna take care of you,” you’d said, dodging the question because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth. not yet.

she’d nodded, but her jaw was clenched, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the bench where you’d helped her sit. and when the scans came back, confirming what you’d already suspected, the devastation in her face nearly broke you.

the weeks that followed were some of the hardest you’d ever seen her endure. paige wasn’t herself—not the confident, fiery leader everyone knew and loved. she was quieter, angrier, and you could tell she was struggling to keep it all together. rehab was slow and painful, and there were days when she’d show up to the training room with this blank look in her eyes, like she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again.

but then, there were the moments when you caught a glimpse of the paige you knew. the one who refused to stay down for long. like the time she’d walked in with her crutches slung over one shoulder, grinning like she’d just won a championship. “figured i should start carrying these instead of letting them carry me,” she’d joked, and for the first time in weeks, you’d seen a flicker of that unshakable determination in her.

those moments grew more frequent as time went on. she threw herself into her recovery with a single-minded focus that was equal parts inspiring and infuriating. there were times you had to physically stop her from pushing herself too hard, reminding her that she wasn’t invincible. but she’d just roll her eyes and flash you that grin, saying something like, “gotta keep you on your toes, doc.”

and now, watching her sit on the training table, her ice pack wrapped around her knee and her confidence radiating from every pore, it was hard to reconcile this version of her with the one you’d seen at her lowest. the injury hadn’t just changed her; it had shaped her, strengthened her in ways that even she probably didn’t fully understand.

“what are you thinking about?” she asks suddenly, breaking through your thoughts. her voice is lighter now, teasing as always, but there’s a softness in her gaze that catches you off guard.

you hesitate for a moment before shrugging, a small smile tugging at your lips. “just thinking about how far you’ve come.”

she raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “yeah? and what’s the verdict?”

“the verdict,” you say, setting your clipboard down and meeting her gaze, “is that you’re still a pain in the ass.”

her laugh is loud and genuine, echoing through the room in a way that makes your chest feel a little lighter. “you love it, though,” she says, grinning like she knows a secret.

and maybe she does. because no matter how many times she teases you, or how much she flusters you, you can’t help but admire her resilience—the way she got back up when the world tried to keep her down.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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coldfanbou · 1 day ago

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Kinkcember Day 21: Costume

Your girlfriend Hayoung planned a little gift without you knowing it. Let's see what she has in store...I hope it wasn't too embarrassing for her.

Length 1.6K

Hayoung X Mreader

You wake up early in the morning, reaching for your phone immediately. You’re disappointed, though, when you see that there wasn’t a notification from Hayoung. You expected your girlfriend to have sent you something to wake up to. You change into your work clothes, a little sadder at not having had a message from her. You work throughout the day, and you’re a little upset that Hayoung hasn’t messaged you at all.

While you were working, though, Hayoung was setting herself up for your birthday. She remembered a comment you made in the past about wanting her in a sexy cat costume. She figured now would be the best time to do it. Hayoung had ordered the costume, made some minor adjustments, and set herself up in your room. The only thing she needed to do was wait. Like a cat stuck at home, she lounged around through the day, tempted to message you something but deciding against it. Occasionally, she’d look at herself in the mirror, a little embarrassed to see herself in a bikini with a tail on the end. She did get some entertainment out of it, though. More than once in the hours she waited, she’d chase it, every time stopping to think, “What in the world am I doing?” Hayoung tried to busy herself by writing you a not-to-read when you got home; she wrote it and rewrote it dozens of times before finally settling on a final version.

She was sitting in the living room when she heard the door jiggle. Hayoung scrambled to your bedroom, tossing herself onto the bed and facing the entrance as she waited for you to appear.

You come home seeing nothing. The disappointment you’ve felt through the day becomes greater until you see a small note stuck to the wall. “Happy Birthday! I brought you a small gift, you know how you’ve always wanted a pet? Come to your bedroom.” It was signed by Hayoung. You can’t shake the smile on your face as you realize she didn’t forget. You rush to the bedroom, overjoyed.

You walk into the bedroom and find Hayoung lying on her stomach, passing a little ball between her hands. Your eyes move up slowly, sticking to the black cat ears on her head. “Meow?” Hayoung’s meow makes you laugh; it wasn’t something you had expected to hear from her. As she hears you laugh, Hayoung buries her head into the mattress, covering her head out of embarrassment. “Don’t laugh!” She shouts into the bed, muffling her words. She covers her head with her hands, and you now notice that she wears little gloves that mimic paws. “I did this for you!” She yells, tossing a pillow at you. You dodge the pillow and get closer to Hayoung, finally getting a closer look at her. She was wearing just a bra and panties, her panties having a tail attached to the end.

Hayoung pokes her head up, her cheeks turning a bright red as she blushes. Her hands cover her face the next second as another wave of embarrassment hits her. “Say something!”

Your voice catches in your throat for a second. “You look beautiful,” you manage to say. Hayoung’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of red. She feels embarrassed to be wearing something so silly, silently cursing herself for thinking the cat bikini would be the best option.

Hayoung quickly gets out of bed and runs over to hug you, her head resting against your chest as she tries to hide herself. “Happy birthday,” she grumbles, but you’re barely able to hear her.

“What did you say? Can you repeat that?”

Hayoung kneels before you, rubbing her face against your legs while looking at you with loving eyes. She places her hands on your thighs, moving them up until she reaches the waistband. “Happy Birthday,” she says softly as she pulls on your pants. Hayoung smiles at you and meows again as she rubs her face against your bulge. As much as she didn’t want to play the part, she was trying for your sake. The meow makes you laugh again, though, and Hayoung stops. “If you laugh again, I will stop.” She says breaking character. You stare at each other, understanding where you stand in this odd situation before Hayoung continues.

It didn’t matter that she just told you not to laugh; Hayoung couldn’t handle it anymore. “I can’t do this anymore,” Hayoung says, tossing off the cat ears, having had enough of making a fool out of herself. She grips your cock tightly, moving her hand along your shaft and spitting on it. She moves her hand quickly, her attitude getting more serious as she feels your pulse rising. The contrast between her cute face and her sultry smile only added to your arousal. You moaned Hayoung’s name. She rises to her feet, continuing to stroke your cock as she stares into your eyes. “Tonight, I’m taking control, okay, baby?” It was a rhetorical question. Hayoung pulled you toward the bed and pushed you onto your back. Hayoung leans over your cock, sticking her tongue out and drooling over your cock before taking one long lick. You moan Hayoung’s name, making her smirk. “Don’t wear yourself out yet.” Hayoung presses her lips against your cock, moving them toward the head before swallowing your cock. She runs her tongue along the underside of your cock; you watch her cheeks hollow out as she sucks you off. You throw your head back and moan her name; the warmth of her mouth makes you forget about how rough your day was before this.

Hayoung smiles; she loves seeing you lose yourself because of her. The young woman slowed down, making her movements more precise and using her tongue more. Your hips thrust up, and Hayoung has to hold you down. “Not so fast, baby. I’m in control.” She swallows the tip again and moves her tongue across the head and then back again. As your cock begins to throb, Hayoung quickens her movements; her hand strokes your cock quickly, making you cry out as she makes you cum in her mouth. Hayoung greedily drinks every drop, moaning as she tastes the salty liquid.

Hayoung keeps her hand on your cock, stroking it until you’re hard again. Climbing onto your lap, she straddles you. She lays on top of your body, her elbows digging into your chest as she rests her head on her hands. “This little kitty had some milk; now she wants something else.” Hayoung rocks her hips back and forth, feeling your cock rub against her slit, her panties the only thing keeping you two apart. “How bad do you want it?”

“Hayoung, please,” you groan, feeling the heat from her body.

“It’s so fun seeing you like this,” she says with a smile. “I’ll make sure you enjoy this.”With that, Hayoung raises herself, pulling her panties to the side and rubbing the tip of your cock between her lips. She aligns you with her entrance and slowly sinks onto your cock, cooing as she feels you split her apart. “Oh, you're so big.” Hayoung takes you a little bit at a time, teasing you as she lowers herself a little more, only to rise back up to the tip. It’s madness on your end; you could only watch as Hayoung rode you. Eventually, she finally finished, taking your cock wholly inside her cunt. You were already near your climax at this point, but Hayoung was just beginning. She lifted herself up suddenly and just as quickly crashed against your body. Her eyes widen, and she gasps as she feels your cum pour into her body. “Oh, baby, you came already? I hope you have a little more for me.” Her words were teasing you; she leaned over and kissed your chest before beginning to ride you again.

Hayoung bounced on your cock quickly. You groaned as she moved along your shaft; her walls clung to you. You’re more sensitive now and barely able to do anything as she rode you as if her life depended on it. She moaned your name, arched her back, and pushed herself to her climax. Hayoung only had two thoughts, one on how your cock was splitting her in two, and the other was how much she wanted your cum. Her usually cute smile looked sultry to you. She knew what she was doing. Hayoung swiveled her hips as she rode you, bringing in a new sense of pleasure as your cock rubbed against her walls. The two of you were getting close to cumming. Hayoung’s walls tightened around your cock, her pace became erratic and until she impaled herself on your cock, crying your name as you made her cum. You fell at the same moment, pouring another load of your semen inside her already full cunt.

Hayoung grinded against you until she collapsed on top of you. “H-how was that?” she asks, out of breath.

“That was amazing,” You say, putting your arms on her waist.

“Was I a good present?”

“The best,” you say, leaning up to kiss her forehead. You chuckle as you see Hayoung transform back into her usual cute self. She has a warm and cute smile on her face as she closes her eyes and begins to fall asleep on your chest. You try to move to put her in a more comfortable position, but she shakes her head and holds onto you. You eventually give up and let her sleep on top of you, your cock still inside her.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #fromis 9 smut #hayoung smut

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metranart · 3 days ago

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After that damn dick pic, Gojo broke the window and entered… and basically, TAMED you. That’s how you felt. Satoru Gojo on top of you, pounding your pussy like his life depended on it, not even taking a break to rehydrate as fat drops of sweat started to fall on the feverish skin of your back. His hair was damp, strands sticking against his forehead, cheeks burning and heavy balls drumming against your ass, he should be exhausted, had already come five times, three inside and two outside, but his pace didn’t falter- like that smile on his face or his firm hands on either side of your hip or his muffled moans every time he felt close again.

“Satoru~” you choked, voice weak and lazy, and he licked his lips expectantly. “Satoru….” You repeated, disoriented and you could hear him laugh, amused before his impatience worn out.

“What do you need, baby?”

He asked in a calm that was almost impossible considering how agitated his thrusts were. How the hell did he make himself sound so in control while being so out of control at the same time!?

Your words caught in your dry throat.

“Tell me, don’t put yourself in mute, (y/n)—” he insisted, slowing the pace of his hips but making each thrust more intense, more precise, making sure to hit that soft, spongy spot inside you that made your pussy clench around him and your fists clench the sheets, penetrating you slowly, deliciously slow, as if he wanted you to taste every vein and ridge on his cock. “Come on, tell me little one, you need it deeper, faster, you want to change positions, you want to ride me…. Would you like me to rub your clit again, pull your hair, come on tell me, I’ll do whatever you want—”

“—Get on top of me.”

You forced yourself to say it, embarrassment forgotten, an eyebrow rose on Gojo's forehead, surprise written all over his features, pleasant surprise. And before you had to repeat it, you felt his warm, strong, massive body on top of you… it wasn't enough—

“…Closer….”

“Huh? I didn’t hear, love.”

Gojo leaned down further, holding himself up on his palms so as not to crush you, the height difference between you was alarming, so alarming that when he stuck his cock in you it felt like a forearm entering you. He almost came just remembering it.

“Like this? Or would you rather—…”

“Closer!” You cried against the sheet, “closer, Satoru, crush me—… hold my wrists and—… subdue me,” he could clearly make out the shame smeared in your broken pleas, “as if I were yours… and no one else’s—”

“—YOU’RE MINE AND NO ONE ELSE’S.”

The sorcerer stressed against your ear, his heavy body falling suffocatingly on yours, you could still feel his flexed arms holding most of his weight, still worrying about not crushing you under his immense mass of muscles, and that put a smile on your lips.

“Is this close enough?” He sewed the words against your sweaty hair, breathing in the delicious scent of your sweat and your essence, his large hands wrapped around your wrists. “Now, do you feel mine already?”

He asked, and his cock spasmed inside you, crawling deeper.

“If anyone saw us right now, they would think the worst of me-”

“-That you sent me a picture of your dick, broke the window of my apartment and came in uninvited…no Satoru, why do you think anyone would think less of you?”

His laughter rumbles against your ear, “oh but honey, you didn’t put up the slightest resistance, I barely walked in, and your eyes went down to my crotch-”

“You had just sent me a dick pic-”

“And of course, you couldn’t wait to see the real thing.”

“Gojo!”

You scolded him, but it wasn’t far from the truth, that picture had unleashed something in you that made you almost sexually assault him when you had him in your territory. Little was the dialogue before you were both naked, and shorter was the declaration of love, before you buried yourself in him— YOU! pushing him down on your bed to crawl on top of him and slowly begin to bury that massive cock inside you. YOU, pushing your body down as he holds your waist to keep from tearing you apart since you insisted of not letting him prepare you first, YOU, using all your strength to in one sitting swallow entirely that massive cock, making Gojo shriek almost painfully at how good it felt but in reality, you loving it more as it stretched you like never before. YOU, starting to ride him slowly but acquiring a wild, back and forth, that squeezed an almost animalistic squeal out of the sorcerer before he came way too fast, mortifying him.

“I-I’m sorry, (y/n)… it’s j-just that I like you SO damn much.”

You didn't want excuses, you didn't need them, you just wanted him to keep fucking you and that's what he did, for hours, bending you in every position imaginable, your legs over his shoulders, your face against the wall, against the floor, against the kitchen counter, against the fucking floor. The obvious bed being left as the last bastion of your carnal sin.

“You’re not going to move?” You ended up asking as Gojo just stood there enjoying the suffocating closeness and the even more suffocating feeling of being inside you.

“I’ve already come five times, even I have a limit—” he chuckled, “this is nice, just the way it is.”

You pouted, frowning a little. “Friction is more pleasant—”

“—I DON’T want it to end.”

His statement shocked you.

“I don’t want to wake up from this beautiful dream…” for the first time since you met him, his voice sounded fragile, “this dream where you want me, and you call me yours—” your gasp was smothered against the mattress, “just five more minutes, grant me this, darling.” His sweaty forehead pressed against the back of your head. “I know I sound pathetic but—”

“You are mine, Satoru Gojo, and no one else.”

You offered without hesitation and could clearly hear him gasp, unable to utter a word at your declaration, the same words he had said to you not more than five minutes ago. But they were not the result of passion or heat…. and that was what had him stunned.

“……Marry me?”

Was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but laugh as it came back to you, the image of a young Satoru asking you the same thing incessantly through the years.

You tilted your head to the side to glance at him and smiled. You could feel his heart beating excitedly, euphorically against your back.

“You’re not going to stop until I’m Mrs. Gojo, are you?”

“Even if you never are, I’m not going to stop.”

He kissed the words against your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, up to your lips, which he devoured insatiably, and already sure of his victory, the friction was imminent, as well as him cumming hard and deep inside you, the muscles in his abs tensing against your back to then feel his warm mouth signing your flushed cheeks in a rain of sweet kisses.

Both, spent and comfortable, Gojo stroke your hair in affectionate pets until your breathing even out to then in the gentlest of twists wrap you in his strong arms, rolling you over to use you as his blanket, his warm and sweaty and soft and his, blanket. The delicious tickle of his nails tracing your back as you rested on him almost sent you to the world of dreams.

“—See everything that a dick pic caused.” You spelled in a lazy voice.

Gojo grinned from ear to ear, a dorky smirk on his face. “If this caused just one, let me send you the other fifty I have but never sent you.”

You shook your head, in reprehensible amusement and his eyes obsess over every inch of you, how your brows furrow, how your mouth twitches up, and how he feels so irrevocably blissed out by you.

“Silly boy-”

“Your silly boy?”

You can feel his expectation, thickening the air around both and you grin, granting him the words he wants to hear so bad since he was but a child.

“MY silly boy.”

Satoru glued to your body, letting you sink deeper into his greedy embrace. Maybe being Mrs. Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be so bad, maybe.

➡️🔞 NSFW art of this drabble in my patr30n

Link to PART ONE of this story

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sammyluvr · 2 days ago

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✶ . ၄၃ . laundry machines — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, poor editing, inexperienced!reader(dating-wise) so sort of shy!reader too, mentions of madison & resulting guilt, implied later seasons sam, kissing, 1.7K words. requested !

summary : you're new to being in a relationship, but sam finds it endearing and is happy to take things slow.

some days are smooth and seamless and like an actual dream come true. others are clumsy, awkward, and make you shy away from being perceived at all. it’s just that this is all quite new to you, and you’re very unsure how to navigate being in a relationship, especially with someone so handsome and lovely. no one’s told you what’s allowed and what isn’t, how you should be acting, what an appropriate response is to the sweet things he does to you.

this all makes you easily flustered, often embarrassed, and yes, you’ll admit it, a bit shy at times. he’s just so tall and steady and you know he’s done this all before, even if the last time he was in a long term relationship was nearly a decade ago. and you’re not even that far from him in regards to age, but you’re somehow so much more lost than he is. it’s nice, because he’s more than willing to take the lead on things, to guide you through it. but sometimes that reminds you of your inexperience, and it sort of makes you wish that you could be a bit better for sam. it almost makes you feel like you’re forcing him to do all the work.

alternatively, sam’s own narrative regarding your inexperience is one of deep fondness, and even a bit of relief. he himself can be awkward and shy, even now and after all he’s been through, but with you, he gets to be the one who’s sure on his feet and smooth and a little easy. secretly, he’s still remembering and figuring out how to do this all. but the little things come to him comfortably enough that, to you, he seems entirely confident and effortless.

“sam?” you call to him from your bedroom. he’s sitting in the living room of your little apartment, content with a cup of tea you’ve made for him. “is it alright if i wash your jacket with my things, too?”

“of course,” he calls back, his voice at its normal level of sweet and kind. you don’t see the huge, endeared grin on his face. he’s not sure why it wouldn’t be alright to wash his jacket with your things. it’s certainly the most logical thing to do, and it’s not as if he’d mind one bit. actually, he likes the idea of his clothes with yours, spinning around and getting tangled together in the washing machine. it’s domestic, soft, and intimate in a simple way. maybe that’s why you asked, he wonders; intimacy makes you a bit timid at times.

with that, his jacket is placed inside your laundry basket. it’s dirty from a hunt. sam wanted to stop by your apartment first thing when it was over by mid morning and he wasn’t too far away. he thinks he flustered you, though, because he forgot to text beforehand. but, you also looked very happy to see him, so he’s sure it’s okay. you had melted right into his kiss, though your hands remained chastely resting on his elbows as he sweetly cupped your face.

now, you’re walking out of the bedroom with your laundry, met with a fond look from sam on the couch.

“i’ll be right back. i just need to get this done by tonight,” you explain as you head to the door to head down to the washing machine in the building’s basement.

“i’ll come with you,” sam says, standing, still wearing his pretty smile. he imagines he’ll have to leave in a few hours, and he’d like to spend every moment until then with you if you’ll let him.

“there’s no need, i’ll only be gone a minute,” you say, only because you don’t want to make him get up and walk down, then back up all those stairs.

his long legs take him to the door in less than a few seconds anyway. “i want to,” he says simply, and you feel silly that it sends your heart pumping extra hard.

“if you insist,” you smile, taking it in stride. sam notices and resists the urge to just sweep you up in his arms and kiss you for a long while. he hasn’t kissed you again since he arrived, but he doesn’t think you’d have as much ease dealing with that without being greatly flustered. he’d probably like to see that, but he’s not a cruel man. you’d argue that he’s the gentlest of them all. he follows you down the stairs because you refuse to let him carry the laundry basket. he’s already silently promising he’ll carry it upstairs once it’s all washed and dried. he’ll help you fold it too, if you’ll let him. he’s not sure if you’ll be alright with him catching a glimpse or two at your underwear.

that makes him think about the time he was about twenty three and madison not-so-subtly showed off her panties to him while folding her laundry on the first day they’d met. she’s a sad memory. a guilty one, too. but he has you in front of him, softly chattering about what you did this morning, and he lets her be a nice memory for today. you give him plenty of nice memories, and he thinks about how he likes the way the two of you take things slow.

you don’t seem to think about the fact that sam can see what you’re putting in the washing machine, and he finds it cute, for no particular reason. he finds it cute when you’re nervous about something you needn’t be or when you aren’t about something he predicted you might. maybe he just finds everything about you cute.

he leans against the drying machine and watches happily as you put the washer to the right settings and start the cycle.

“so,” you say, turning your head to look at him, “do you have–” you’re cut off by the loud rush of water in the machine as it begins soaking your clothes—and his jacket—and you shake your head because you momentarily forgot just how loud it is. it’s the loudest washing machine you’ve ever used, you told him once. he himself is almost startled by it; you really weren’t kidding. he gives a little laugh and you can’t help but laugh a bit too. neither of you have to say anything to agree to go back upstairs.

he holds the basement door open for you and one of his big hands that you’re secretly so fond of hovers by the small of your back as you pass him and start up the stairs. only you think it’s a secret. he can tell how much you like to hold hands and fiddle with his fingers. you stare sometimes, too, but he’d never tell you that for fear of rendering you too flustered to function properly for the rest of the night.

“you were saying?” he says, encouraging you to continue now that he can actually hear you.

you can’t tell if it’s a blessing or not that he’s asked you to keep going while walking up the stairs. you sort of wanted to be watching his face when you asked, but you’re also thinking you might be grateful that you won’t in case it helps you feel less nervous. he’s just so handsome and sincere and lovely that it makes you nervous. you don’t know how to be casual around him. everything just feels so special and new and nerve-wracking.

“i was just wondering if you had another case lined up for tomorrow,” you tell him, hoping that you’re succeeding in sounding laid-back like you wish you could be. once again, he thinks it’s sweet you don’t always know how to act around him. “or, you know, anything like that,” you add on. you don’t want to ask without knowing if he has somewhere to be in the morning.

sam feels a spark of hope and a little bit of youthful giddiness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time before you. “i don’t,” he says simply, “i don’t have anything tomorrow.”

you chew lightly on the inside of your cheek, considering your options. there’s still another flight and a half of stairs until you get to your floor and you’re thinking, despite how nervous it makes you, you really would like to be facing him as you ask. it’d be obvious and awkward if you wait until you’re back in your apartment, right? but it’s silly to ask in a stairwell, you think.

then you realize you're probably overthinking it. maybe neither of those things are true. maybe it doesn’t matter at all how you ask, so long as you do it. you know he’ll say yes, you know he’ll like the idea of it, and you’re pretty sure he’ll like the fact that you’re the one to bring it up first. and you’re pretty confident that you love him and that he really, truly cares about you too. that gives you a burst of confidence.

you turn around, right on the steps with your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and a little, likely nervous looking smile on your lips. “do you want to sleep over tonight?” you ask, somehow able to make yourself sound more sure of things than you feel.

his lips curl into a happy, almost proud smile. it’s very obvious how much he adores you. all you have to do is look at him and see the way his adoration pools in his eyes and his dimples and shows in the lightness of his eyebrows and the showing of his front teeth. his hands that you love so much drift up to hold your waist, moving slowly so you can anticipate it. the touch still makes you draw in a steadying breath.

“i would love to. are you sure that’s alright with you?” he says. he’s trying to sound casual too, but it comes out more reverent than anything else.

your smile isn’t so nervous now. “mhmm,” you hum. “i’m sure.” this time, you really are sure. though, you still have to grip his shoulders for support when he kisses you, right in the stairway like he’d probably kiss you anywhere.

172 notes · View notes

nmakii · 2 days ago

Text

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for rhi. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock sae #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk sae #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae itoshi #sae itoshi imagines #itoshi sae imagines

253 notes · View notes

urstruly-ghst · 3 days ago

Text

i think he knows !

in which you're hiding two things from your friend, romantic feelings and the bunch of cupcakes you made for him. will he accept it?

wc: 1.7k (edited)

author's note: what if i told u im back?!! have a holly jolly christmas xoxo ghst

ace trappola

Ace was someone you fell for gradually. It was unexpected. You liked him as a friend, then it progressed so naturally. How could you not? He was undeniably a charmer and just… He had this aura, as Cater would say, “totes cutie throughout.” After coming to terms with your feelings for him, the next step was to confess– it didn't need a reciprocation. You just wanted some closure to your feelings. The grand plan was to be outright, give the cupcakes, and get an answer.

You enlisted the help of Deuce and Grim, though they don’t know why you needed help with baking. However, a bribe was never out of the question! The simple bribe was enough to grab their attention and cause havoc in your kitchen.

Yet, in times like these, you wished you had asked for help from someone else; being covered in powdered sugar and two rascals fighting over the batter spoon was enough to deter you. Deuce and Grim quarreled as they had different objectives with said spoon. Honestly, why didn't you ask Trey for help?

However, even with the trouble, you can't help but smile. They knew of your feelings and didn't tease you… Instead, they immediately insulted your tastes in men. When you dropped the bomb, you liked Ace, and they had to do a complete stop.

“ACE? THAT ACE?!” Both yelled when you first admitted your true feelings for the other part of your friend group. Grim was faster to judge, and his paws slapped your face with disbelief.

“You can't be serious?! Ace? There are plenty of people here, henchman! What about Jack? He’s literally right there?!” Grim groaned as he couldn't believe his henchman was dumb enough to fall for that redhead. There were plenty of suitable candidates, but they chose Ace, resident troublemaker?!

Deuce shook his head and tried to help you unclaw Grim from you, but he was no less judgemental. While he finds it cute that the two of his friends have fallen for each other, though you weren't aware, he still judges your taste. Ace? The man who has done nothing but tease and even get all of the group in trouble?!

“Grim, come on, you can't force a heart to love and choose who to love. That's why love is messy,” Deuce said as he tried to placate Grim so he would not slap you with his paws. You felt loved in that moment for your feelings to be accepted (exclude Grim; that little monster would come to terms with it).

You sighed and sat on the floor, exhausted. Who knew baking with love was exhausting? Deuce sat next to you and smiled while patting your head for encouragement, which made you feel slightly energized. He gave you that classic “You got this” smile. It was his trademark, the classic encouraging Deuce Spade. Before you can thank him, the rapid knocking was on the door, followed by that painfully sweet voice.

“Prefect! Hellooo! I heard you invited Deuce?! The hell, you hang out with Juice without me now? Just say you hate me!” It was Ace, his whining reaching to the kitchen. You panicked and immediately hid the cupcakes and tried to look presentable. Deuce and Grim also helped, panicking as Ace couldn’t be patient; his knocking was about to break down your new door!

“In a bit!” You yell out, embarrassed as you see how messy you look. Why is Ace even here? You remember you asked Cater to distract him! Then again, Cater could be busy, too. You cursed the world as it couldn’t time things the way you wanted.

“Fu-nya! Stop breaking down our door, Ace!” Grim yelled out, annoyed, and shot you a look. He was judging you. Deuce and Grim tidied up and finally opened the door for Ace. He was in his dorm uniform, with a glare and pout. He looked at Deuce and you before dramatically sighing.

“How could you do this? I thought we were OGs here! Is this the duo in a trio moment?!” Ace said as he plopped on the couch with a hand over his chest. You sighed and shook your head, laughing before hiding your face.

“I was bribing them to do my work, Ace. I knew I couldn’t bribe you, so I went with Deuce.” Pandering to his ego, Ace looked at you suspiciously. It made you sweat. Does he know what you plan to do? Ace was glaring before shrugging and showing off his signature smirk.

“Hell yeah! You can’t bribe me; Juice here can be bribed, though!” Ace points at Deuce, cracking his knuckles. He is ready to roundhouse Ace to the next dorm. Ace laughed at his threat before saying, “Hey, don’t look offended!”

You can’t help but feel flushed as Ace's laughter fills the dorm lounge. How dare he make you feel this way? You want to say it now, but that felt rushed. While your friendship with Ace was an adventure, your feelings were not something you wanted to rush to; it felt right to take it slow. Amidst your thoughts, Ace looked at you, and you panicked. Oh, were you staring too much?

Unknown to everyone, Ace had an idea why you were hanging out with Deuce. (He doesn’t.)

“Anyways, I know why you guys hang out without me. Hurts, though.” Ace shrugs as Deuce, and you look confused. Though, your heart was in your stomach at the moment. You were cursing internally as Ace smirked.

“You and Deuce, you’re dating, huh?! Come on, the cat’s out the bag. Hey! I’m happy for you two!”

Oh, thank the Sevens. He’s an idiot. You thought as you paused, trying not to laugh. Deuce looked confused before shaking his head. Grim deadpanned at you and Ace, feeling the hopelessness seep in.

“No. We really are just friends. There is no duo in a trio moment here, Ace,” you explain as Deuce shakes his head and Grim just sighs. Both can’t believe how you fell for Ace.

“Whaaa? Okay, darn, my vibes must be off.” Ace said as he groaned. He was so confident, hoping for some drama too. He sighed before shrugging and acting as he usually would. You sighed in relief as he dropped the topic, and Deuce and Grim whispered amongst themselves.

[Next Day; Lunch]

You sat anxiously on the table alone, and the other friends were leaving you alone because today was the day! Though, can’t Ace come to the table any sooner? He’s taking his sweet time on the lunch line. You were fidgeting, and you couldn’t help but glare as the rest of the group were cheering awkwardly on the sidelines.

Except for Sebek, he’s cheering as loud as he can. He was saluting and clapping while giving a thumbs-up, too. Ace returned to the table, confused, as you sat alone. He teased you,

“Why are we alone? What? This a date?” Ace joked before looking away. Unknown to you, Ace was flushed at his own joke. Sevens knew that he was wishing it was a date. You stammer and try to make the atmosphere light.

“I mean, could be?”

“Wha–?!”

[Two Days Earlier…]

Ace was sulking in his room while sighing loudly as the night seemed to drawl. The hangout you

had earlier went by too fast. Ace was longing to be in your presence. He knew why, and it scared him to admit that. His phone's bright screen annoyed Deuce, who was forced to room with Deuce for a night. Deuce woke up and glared.

“Dude, you’re being loud, and your phone is so bright!”

“Deuce, I need your advice,” Ace said thoughtfully as he looked at the disheveled boy. Deuce faltered and pinched his skin to knock him out of his dream state. Ace's tone was so sincere that Deuce momentarily doubted that he was still talking to his friend. He gaped at Ace and straightened himself before gesturing for Ace to continue whatever melodrama he was experiencing.

“So, our dear friend. You know, [Name]? Yeah, so… Uh…” Ace stalls as Deuce tries to make sense of what Ace is implying. Deuce looked at him, encouraging him just to finish because there was no judgment here. Ace and Deuce are quite literally bonded for life at this point.

“I like them. And not the “Oh, they’re cool” type of liking. Sevens… I want to date them, okay?! I need… Why am I even asking this from you? Ugh,” Ace grumbled as he hid in his pillow. He was flushed, the tip of his ears peaking with red, while his hands were shaky. Deuce never saw Ace this way. It was almost laughable/

“Ooh! Someone’s got a crush.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Listen, man. There’s no hope for me here. [Name] is way too good for me!”

“Heh, you got that right,” Deuce joked as he looked at Ace, who was staring at the ceiling longingly. He never looked this vulnerable.

“Oi! I’m trying–! You know what, good night!” Ace glared as he flipped Deuce off. He grumbled as he tucked himself back into his blankets and glanced at Deuce, who was laughing.

“Wait, come on! I’m listening!” Deuce laughs as he tries to coax Ace to confess what he is about to say. Ace grumbled and threw a pillow at Deuce, resulting in a pillow fight.

[Present Day, Lunch Time]

“I said… This could be a date!” You find the courage to say it. Ace flushed deep red as he tried to play things cool. You finally brought out the cupcakes with a nervous smile. As you offered the baked goods, the proud look in your eyes made Ace tremble and melt.

“If you only knew how much trouble I went to making these,” You say as you laugh to make things less awkward. Ace was shaky as he accepted it; the usual smirk he did was gone. He looked so shy it made you wonder if you were still with the Ace Trappola.

Ace grabbed the small box and smiled, flaunting his charm, before closing his eyes to steady his heart. He winked at you before smiling.

“So, I’m guessing there will be a duo moment in a trio?” He joked, making you blush when you realized what he meant. Oh, Sevens, is he?? “I think I know what’s gonna happen next,” Ace whispered as he sat beside you.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twst #twst ace

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purpamint · 18 hours ago

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Even after two years this is still one of my favorite comics I’ve made, and since it’s the holiday season, here’s the text version of it I wrote for it today that has some fun bonus details that I’m pretty happy with:

Back when Kris and Noelle back were both kids, they were opening presents while sitting by a Christmas tree. Kris is wearing their red horns that they supposedly wore a lot as a kid. Kris opens their present and reveals a green and yellow striped sweater. After Kris opens their present, Noelle cheerily says, “Merry Krismas! Dess and I worked together to make you this sweater!!”

Kris looks in awe, exclaiming, “WOAH!! so cool....”

Noelle gives Kris a thumbs up with a happy expression, saying “why don’t you try it on?”

“ok!”

Asriel and Dess are both looking at Kris now that they’ve tried on their new sweater. The sweater is visibly way too big for Kris.

Asriel is smiling, but his expression betrays the fact that he is a bit worried that the sweater doesn’t fit Kris, however he is still trying to stay on the bright side.

Asriel expresses, “It’s a bit oversized…”

Dess, focusing more on Kris’s enjoyment of the present than the size, looks to Asriel and assuredly states, “They seem to like it!” She proudly stands with her hands on her hips with a satisfied smile.

Kris wears their sweater with a delighted smile as if they were as content as one could be. It was as if in nothing the world could be better than as small as sweater made just for them. It was as if they would be fine if this one moment lasted forever.

Dess, continuing what she was stating earlier, laughs, “Hah! It doesn’t matter if it fits as long as they like it!” Clearly pleased at how much Kris seems to enjoy their present, she remains unbothered by the minor issue of the size. Asriel, less concerned after realizing Kris’s genuine joy at the sweater, finally agrees with Dess, albeit still reserved “I guess so!”

Many years later…

The world is completely black. It feels as if so much time has passed. The darkness only brings back those warm distant memories. The darkness feels like daydreaming with eyes closed. Those dreams feel real yet so fragile…

Noelle sees Kris while at school

Casually starting a passing conversation with an old friend, she laughs, “Woah Kris… talk about a flashback!! Fa-ha!”

It was like she was suddenly propelled millions of years back in to the past, reminded of both the embarrassing and the bittersweet moments.

Caught up in the moment of remembrance— almost as if all the years of distance between the two teens had suddenly melted away to potentially forge some sense of reconnection— she continues, “You haven’t worn that since…” Quickly trailing off.

Reality comes back like a tsunami of ice water over a blacksmith’s freshly re-heated piece of iron. The once re-shapable metal is now chilled and harder to change.

Now, the darkness has faded out.

Noelle couldn’t help but wonder about Kris sometimes. Why wear that sweater…? Not that it’s a bad thing, but it hasn’t been worn in ages…

With an inquisitive expression, she politely asks, “Any reason why you’re wearing it?”

Kris sits at their school desk slightly leaning forward laying their chin on their right hand. Their other arm lays on their desk as if they were partially crossing their arms. They do not look directly at Noelle. They almost appear as if they are not looking at anything at all— or at least not towards anything in particular. They have an introspective expression. Like they are thinking about old friends, old memories, old dreams… at least that’s what it seems.

��I guess I have been feeling nostalgic lately…” Kris replies. An indirect response like that from them was not unusual.

…but…

It seemed like that they were being honest.

It’s generally hard to read them, it was even hard to read them back when they were more open…but Noelle is so familiar with them that it is almost natural, even if the skill has a little bit of rust.

Kris looks softly at their sweater. It’s been so long since they’ve worn it, but they still remember the day they got it. They wished that day would last forever back then. Sometimes they still do. It felt so big back then, but now it matches their size much closer, even if it is a bit baggy in some places. But it’s honestly more comfortable that way… they never minded oversized clothes anyways.

They loved it so much because it was made with care, just for them.

It’s their favorite sweater…

It fits almost perfectly…

Little deltarune comic for the holidays! (About the Holidays too, wow) This took a bit longer to make than expected because I chose to make it on paper, so I had to do a bit of color adjustments to make it look right in the photos. Despite it’s lateness hope y’all like it! :D

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robinsgrl · 16 hours ago

Text

FEARLESS

chapter three. boobs and beers

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 4.7k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, mention of a panic attack, boobies lol, uhmmmmm shopping as a fat girl, heather should be her own warning, daddy issues, mentions of alcoholism.

authors note ⇢ heyyyyy….. im sick and i am soooo fatigued but i wanted to release this, i’ve been spoiling the kildare nights readers and i needed to give fearless some attention. sorry for any mistakes queens, love you guys! gimme ur thoughts!!

“Why are we here?” You ask as he plops down onto the seat across from you at the mall food court. He slides over a cup of fro-yo at you. A frown falls to your lip when you take a peek in it. “You get plain fro-yo?”

His eyebrows furrow, shrugging. “Yeah?”

You scoff in pure disbelief as you glance into his own cup. Plain chocolate. “That’s… like… a crime.”

Getting up off your cold metal seat, you pick his cup as well and walk back into the frozen yogurt shop. The cute worker behind the register has a bored expression on her face until she spots you. A bright smile falls onto your face, as does hers, as you meet each other. “Heather.”

“Gorgeous!” She squeals happily as you walk over to the register with the tall guy trailing after you, watching the two of you curiously.

“My friend here, he doesn’t know the art of fro-yo. Is there any way we can add some toppings? Promise I’ll pay for every cent.” You ask her sweetly. The red head nods happily, ushering you to go on in.

You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you walk over to the toppings station. A wave of embarrassment flushes through you as you realize something. This makes you look fat. You are. You are a big girl but you try and hide it. With big sweaters, baggy jeans, eating small portions when out— not showing others that you come to the fro-yo place so often that the cashier knows you by name.

“My dad and I come here all the time.” You don’t mean for your words to sound so defensive but it’s what you’ve had to do most of your life. Defend yourself. “It’s the one thing he can afford.”

His eyebrows furrow, head tilting gently. You realize he’s not one for many words but his looks say a lot. He’s curious about you. And confused. “Isn’t your dad rich?”

You take a quick peek at him and feel a weight lift off your shoulders when you see his eyes have moved to scour the toppings. “Anthony isn’t my dad.”

He nods, ahh-ing. “Right, he’s your step-dad. What about your real father?”

You shrug lamely, not really wanting to talk about him. “Nothing. We just like fro-yo. Are you seriously putting Graham crackers in your fro-yo?” You ask, eyes wide and with a glint of disgust at his choice.

His eyes squint with annoyance as he looks up at you. “What’s wrong with Graham crackers?”

“Everything.” You reach over the toppings and scoop up a spoonful of gummy bears. “Graham crackers are like… green peppers on your pizza.”

This gets a reaction out of him. “You don’t like green peppers on your pizza?”

You scoff out a laugh, “I don’t know how we’re gonna get along with all these differences between us.” Your tone is playful as you speak this. You reach over and grab a few maraschino cherries and plop them on your fro-yo.

“Now that, I can get behind.” He scoops up the cherries and loads them into his cup. He’s scooping up Oreo crumbles beside you as you take him in. There’s a slight stubble growing on his jaw, a green baseball cap on top of his head. He's a lot more laidback than you’ve ever seen. He's usually in khakis and polo shirts. Today, he’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie, with thick sneakers that you’re sure cost a fortune.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment, his eyes turning to you. You can’t make eye contact, eyes looking everywhere but his eyes. “We’re twins.”

“What?”

You point to his clothing and yours. You’re wearing baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie. “We’re dressed alike.” The two of you are done and back at the register, weighing your cups for the price. Heather begins ringing you two up and you’re about to swipe your credit card when he beats you to it. “I had that.”

But he ignores you as the payment goes through and Heather wishes you two a good day. “First things first,” you’re walking down the mall side by side, eating your fro-yo. “You need to stop dressing like me.”

“Hey, this is comfortable.” You defend yourself.

“Comfortable won’t get you anywhere. You have to show some cleavage every now and then.”

This offends you, a scoff leaving your mouth. You’re glaring up at him but he doesn’t seem to care, eyes moving to and fro, checking the mall out. “Why do I need to do that?”

“Real talk?” He asks you, eyeing you as if trying to see if you’ll get offended or not.

You take a deep breath in and nod. “You look like a little boy.”

You should be offended. But you can’t. Instead, a laugh bubbles out of you and you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “N-no, no I don’t.” But you don’t believe your own words. You sigh, eating another spoonful of fro-yo. “Okay thine.” If your mother were here you’d be getting a scold for talking with your mouth full.

Rafe simply rolls his eyes at the sight and hands you a napkin which you happily take. You chew on your cold gummy bears for a moment before speaking again. “Fine. I’m guessing that’s why we’re here?” You look around the mall with a soft and annoyed huff. “Where to first, sensei?”

You can see he’s visibly holding back a smile when he says— “Victoria Secret.”

The store is unbelievably pink. But your eyes flicker about the store and the mannequins with a sparkle to your eyes. You’d never stepped foot in this place unless Scarlett was at your side. Nothing about you ever felt sexy and she came here to feel sexy. So you never found your footing in the store. And now, with Rafe at your side, you feel even worse. Surface level, you only see undergarments for skinny people. Smaller people. And the idea of not finding anything and Rafe watching you get shut down makes you dread the rest of your day.

“Never seen someone look at mannequin boobs and frown.” You’re brought out of your painstakingly insecure thoughts at the sound of Rafe’s voice. You peek up at him and are surprised to see a softer look to him. Well, as soft as Rafe Cameron can get. “Seriously, it’s just bra shopping. And pantie shopping. I thought girls went crazy for this shit.”

“Okay, misogyny.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. To anyone else, it would look like a natural pose but you’re hiding your chest, as if that would stop this from happening. “I’m just… shouldn’t I do something else before shopping?” You hope he understands what you mean.

But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, “nah.” His nonchalant response sends a twinge of annoyance through you, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He starts making his way into the store, too much interest in his face when you call out to him.

“Seriously, Rafe, I’m too big for this.” This stops him in his steps turning to you with a look on his face that you can’t decipher. Not that you ever can, Rafe Cameron is an incredibly hard person to read.

“There’s a plus-size section.” Are his words and you feel a wave of heat come over you. Your mouth twitches as you try to hide the shame you’re feeling. But it seems you and Rafe don’t have that in common— you wear your feelings on your face.

“Look before we… I should probably, I don’t know… lose some weight.” Is your response to him, eyes refusing to meet him at all.

He sighs loudly, and you sneak a glance at him to see him rubbing the inner corner of his eyes with what you think is annoyance. And this only worsens your intense feelings of insecurity. And he speaks, “you don’t need to lose weight to be hot, ___. You’ve got a stunning body, you just have to know how to work it.”

Your eyes widen as they meet him for the first time in a while. And oddly enough, you can see he’s telling the truth. You wanted to see a lie on his face. You wanted to be proved right and know that he’s just as disgusted by you as all the boys in your school. But you can’t find it. “Now, are you gonna keep fishing for compliments or are we gonna find a bra that makes your boobs pop?”

You bust out laughing at this, covering your face with your hands in a shy manner. “Fine, but you have to promise to never repeat the word Boobs to me. Like, ever again.”

“How about breasts?”

“Gross.”

—

One of the kind ladies in the shop finds a few pieces for you that fit well. Surprisingly, you have a good time. The lady is unbelievably kind and finds you matching sets. And you come to realize you’ve never had a positive female shopping experience.

Most of your shopping was done with Scarlett and your mother at your side. And they seemed to be the unstoppable duo that knew just how to put you down. Your mother would grab at your stomach when you tried on a shirt that didn’t fit quite right. “This is where you need to focus,” she’d point at the spots that she felt needed to be fixed. “Next time you’re at the gym, focus on this. Talk to my personal trainer, he’s there all the time.” You went to the gym the next day. Apparently, she had spoken to her trainer and he grabbed you in the same way your mother did. You never went back again.

Scarlett. She’d make it a competition. If you found a top that made your eyes crinkle with the thought of wearing it proudly, she’d find the smallest size there was and try it on. Once you’d see her walk out with a top you were carrying on your arm, you’d set it down. She puts you to shame every single time.

So, now that you’re in a new shop, wearing a new push-up bra that fits like a perfect corset for your chest, you feel anxious. Beyond anxious. There are people everywhere. Chats coming from every single direction. But the last thing you need is to have a panic attack in front of Rafe. You barely know the guy.

“Okay… so what now?” You ask, clearing your throat to push away the bad memories of the store.

“Now, we shop.”

It takes an hour. A long hour to walk throughout the store and have him pick out outfits for you. Having him know your size was absolutely terrifying. But he didn’t bat an eye as you told him and he jumped right into it. Every now and then, he’d find an ugly shirt and hold it up to you and he’d mutter a joke. Jonah would love this one, is his go to. And before you know it, you’re no longer on the verge of a breakdown.

You’re in the dressing room and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about how you look. Or how the jeans fit you a little too snug around your hips. You don’t feel panic at the thought of trying clothes on in the stuffy dressing room.

You come out in the first outfit and Rafe immediately busts out laughing. The green jeans are ridiculously long and the top is a corset top with blue hand-drawn flowers on them and ridiculously large bows at the shoulder straps. You knew it was a joke outfit but it was nice to mess around.

You jokingly strut, pretending the room is a runway. “Keep it in your pants.” You laugh as you give him a spin and this only makes him laugh some more. You feel a sense of pride for making Rafe Cameron laugh. Sarah’s text flashes through your mind. A man who hasn’t smiled in years. And yet, he’s holding onto his side as you strike another odd pose.

“Alright, alright,” his smile is pretty, you notice. And contagious, unable to hide your own as you listen to him. “We need to get serious.” But he’s still chuckling. “Try on a real outfit this time.” So you do. He likes them all. A few shirts ride up over your belly a bit too much and some jeans don’t fit over your thighs but you leave the store with eight new outfits.

Usually, you leave with hurt feelings and nothing but.

You two are on the ferry back home when your day together is over. It’s a forty minute wade back but neither of you seem to care. He’s sipping his Big Gulp drink and watching as you try and balance the water bottle lid on your nose.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.” There’s a tinge of amusement to his tone.

Your head is thrown slightly back as you keep trying but it’s to no avail, it keeps toppling over. With a huff, you pick the cap up and shove it into your pocket. “It’s a trick my dad usually pulls. It’s better with a quarter though.”

Avoiding the topic of your father is a skill you take pride in. Your mother always turns into a sobbing mess when you bring him up. Your step-dad isn’t ever really home and when he is, it’s awkward. The only person you could share him with was Scarlett. That was the one topic she never snarked at you over. Not to your face, at least.

“Can I ask?” You turn to him, criss cross on the bench that you two are sitting on, wind blowing your hair. You tuck a strand, nodding. “Where is your dad?”

“The cut.” You answer honestly. Your mother hides him from her new rich friends. She hides her past from all of her new rich friends. Her story isn’t as compelling as Ward Cameron’s. He built his way up. Your mother caught the attention of an older man and married him. She’s ashamed about it.

This seems to shock him but he’s not Rafe Cameron if he doesn’t try and hide it. “And you’re close?”

You shrug, turning to the cloudy sky. It’s easier to talk about hard things when you don’t have to look at anyone, you find. “We’re… we definitely have a relationship. But… it’s hard to build on it when my mother doesn’t know I’m talking to him.”

You can feel his eyes on you, mouth slightly parted as he takes your words in but you can’t turn to him. “She forbids you from seeing him?”

You hum a small ‘mhm’. “He’s a stain in her perfect life.”

“Not in yours?”

“He’s a…” you pause, searching for the proper words. “An escape. Like… in Coraline. The door. He’s my door to a… less suffocating world. Without the buttons, of course. And alcoholism.” You try to joke. He doesn’t find it funny, the look on his features softened and taking you and your words in. Letting them settle. “He’s not perfect. I get why my mom left him. Why she wanted better. He’s a drunk who can’t keep a steady job. When we go out, I buy us dinner. He couldn’t take care of my mom or me so…”

“So she found the next best thing.” He finishes off for you. You turn to him at this, nodding as your hair keeps blowing in the wind. You don’t feel exposed in the way you do when speaking of your father to anyone. Rafe’s not judging you or figuring out how to use it against you. His eyes are sincere. Face stoic, but his eyes are sincere. You hate eye contact but if it means getting a better grasp of Rafe, you’d never look away. And you don’t.

“What about you?” You ask with sincerity. “I heard the rumors. The Cameron men butting heads.” You admit sheepishly.

He sighs, turning away. It’s his turn to look away while speaking of the hard stuff in his life. He lays back on the bench seat, long legs stretched out and kicked back up on the rail. “Well… you know… fathers…” it doesn’t take much to see he doesn’t want to speak of it.

Instead, you nod, a small and sad laugh leaving you. “Yeah… fathers.”

The ferry stops at the port a while later after thirty minutes of talking about your classes to him. He’s dropping you off at home, bags of clothes at hand. “By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.” And he drives off, leaving you stumped.

—

Debut one of your new outfits. What the fuck does that mean? You can’t picture yourself going to a party in clothes that aren’t your comfortable ones. Your comfort hoodie and sweats are what you spend most of your time in when out of school.

Getting ready without a friend is depressing. Usually, you’d have Scarlett at your side fluffing up your hair and helping with your makeup. Not that you wore it often but on the rare occasions that you needed to go to an event with your family, she was by your side. And it was during those moments that her honest side shined the brightest. She was careful with you. Honest but not brutal.

You shake your head to get yourself to stop thinking about her. You don’t want to be affected. You don’t want her to have this much of a hold over you. You need to stop loving her.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Anthony’s voice is heard as you make your way to the door. You freeze in your step, not wanting to see him. Your mother had gone on a so-called spiritual retreat in Puerto Rico without telling you so now, you were under Anthony’s care. But he didn’t have kids of his own and you came to him when you were twelve years old, he never had to take care of you.

You turn in your spot, a stiff smile on your face. “Uhm… nothing. Just… going out… to watch a movie…”

He gives you a bore expression, hand in a bag of chips. “You don’t put on a mini-skirt to watch a movie. You’re going to a party, aren’t you? God, you’re a baby, you shouldn’t be wearing that.”

You scoff, “bye, Anthony.” You open up the door and slam it as he’s telling you to be careful.

Rafe’s truck is in your driveway and he’s standing out of it, leaning up against the hood. His eyes are closed and he’s bopping his head gently, singing a quiet song. The sound of your shoes hitting the gravel of the driveway catches his attention, eyes immediately opening and on you.

Your smile is shy as you hold your arms out, showcasing your outfit. It’s a black mini skirt matched with a simple black and low cut top, a leather jacket over it. Simple. But extravagant for you. “So… how do I look?” You really, really want to know.

His eyes are taking you in. Starting from the shoes you picked out, to your thick thighs, your hips, your waist, your chest (which you’re proudly wearing your push-up he bought you), your neck. And he settles on your face. Done up in makeup, hair let loose in its natural form. He gets up off the hood of his car and walks up to you. “You look…” he pauses, eyes flickering across your face again. He's lost in thought, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue lightly ghosting his dry lips. You nervously put your weight on your other foot, and this awakens him. “Fine. You look fine.”

“Oh.” You didn’t expect much. But you also didn’t expect very little. “I mean… like, if Jonah were to see me do you think he’d be… starstruck and completely in love.”

This gets something out of him, a small snort of a laugh. “Give a girl a push up bra and she thinks she’s a goddess.”

“Hey!” You laugh with disbelief as you walk after him, the two of you making your way to his truck. “You told me I need to be more confident!” He opens the passenger door with no qualms and helps you in. He closes your side of the door and hops into the driver's seat. “Okay, so what’s the game plan?” You ask as he starts driving out of your driveway, hand stretched behind your seat and looking back for any other cars.

“The game plan is,” he turns the wheel, the veins in his arms popping slightly but you have to force yourself to look away and straight at the road as he starts driving off. “Act nonchalant. People are going to notice the style change but you’re going to ignore it. If they ask, you simply wanted to try something new. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So… if they compliment me, I… ignore it?”

“You’re hopeless. No, I mean, accept the compliments but brush off other comments.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

He huffs and before you know it, the two of you are bickering. Back and forth. What he means. What you mean. It’s almost hard to remember that just last week you two weren’t even in the same world. Now, you’re in his truck, wearing the new clothes he bought you and bickering.

The walk into the party is nerve-wracking and all you can think of is how your thick thighs are in the wind. Which means you’re much colder than usual you’re not used to being cold outside, always so wrapped up in your warm clothes. You stop at the patio of the raging house, looking up at Rafe. “So… this is where we part ways?”

This visibly confuses him. “What? Why would we part ways?”

You shrug, “I don’t know… I didn’t come to parties often but the few events I went with Heather… we would part ways.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid. I’m here with you.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick.”

“That’s you being a dick. I’m not stupid for—“

“I’m not calling you stupid, god.”

“You’re here!” A loud squeal pulls you out of your mini argument with Rafe. Your eyes meet a pair of familiar brown ones. Sarah rushes to you immediately and practically jumps into your arms. You laugh happily as you hug her right back.

“I’m here!”

She pulls away from you with a small pour. She’s drunk. Kiara comes out from behind her, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Guess who else is here?” Sarah’s voice is loud as the four of you walk into the home which is blasting with music.

“Who?”

“Scarlett.” This makes your blood run cold. That little piece of confidence that you carried vanished. You weren’t feeling yourself anymore. She’d see you in your new outfit and would make fun of you.

“We’ve got your back.” Kiara’s arm wraps around your shoulders as you walk side by side. “You won’t have to deal with her alone.”

“By the way, you look so damn good!” Sarah squeals as you all make your way into the kitchen where Kie grabs a few beers and tosses one each to the group. Rafe catches his beer easily and when he notices the slight panic in your face, he catches yours next, opening it quickly for you. You take the beer mindlessly, listening to Sarah drunkenly babble. Kiara’s entertaining her, laughing when she says something she shouldn’t say far too loudly. And you find yourself enjoying it.

You always dreaded parties. When a kid went around inviting everyone, they’d stop with you and Scarlett but only invite her. They would barely spare a glance at you. And at the time, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You’d rather be at home and cuddled up in bed with your cat, binge watching a show. But this… you like this. You like that Kiara and Sarah are bringing you into the conversation even when you’ve been quiet for minutes. You like that Rafe’s by your side like a scary guard dog. Well, you don’t really like that part so much. People are staring. They aren’t used to the Rafe Cameron not having a baddie on his arm.

Kiara and Sarah are in the middle of dancing a silly dance in the kitchen when you turn to Rafe. “No ones even noticing me.”

He snorts out a scoff of a laugh. “I’ve caught like eight guys since we came in, looking at your boobs.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not anyone noticing me. That’s them noticing my girls. And second, I told you not to say boobs to me.”

“Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.”

“God, shut up. You’re gross. There’s no need to— stop!” Back to your bickering, a laugh leaving you when he just won’t quit it.

You’re both in a comfortable space when a shrill of a voice cuts you two off.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Time stands still for a second at the sound of Scarlett’s voice. You and your new friends immediately turn to look at her. And your eyes widen. You’re wearing the same skirt. A laugh bubbles out of Sarah and Rafe’s big hand covers her mouth to shut her up

“You know what I’m wearing.” You retort with a roll of your eyes. Heather angrily puts her red solo cup down, stomping closer to you.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is? You need to change!”

Kiara laughs at this. “Girl, get over yourself. It’s a skirt.”

Scarlett is very clearly exasperated. And upset. It’s weird seeing her so put off. Your eyes don’t leave her as she keeps throwing her tantrum. “It doesn’t even look good on you! You’re… you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Rafe is watching with an amused look to his face. He hadn’t seen the fight, only a few clips that were taken last minute. But he’d never seen them go head to head. And you know he’s been dying to. Rafe is many things but dramatically inclined was not one you had added to your list until recently.

You're about to answer. You’re about to fight back. You wouldn’t let her embarrass you in front of your new friends. Loud gasps and yells erupt when a drunk splashes onto Heather. “Dumb bitch!” It’s Sarah. She threw beer right at Heather’s face which is now dripping down to her clothes.

Scarlett, quick on her feet, grabs her own cup and tosses it. On you. You gasp for air as it falls in your nose. “What the fuck, Scar?! I didn’t do shit?!”

“For not fighting your own fucking battles!” She yells, so angry that her face is red. Which you’re sure is from embarrassment as well. “You’re weak! Always have been and always will be!”

Kiara gets in between the two of you, “back the fuck up.” She hisses. “She’s with us now.”

Scarlett laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She looks behind Kiara and glares harshly at you. “Hanging with the pogues? Seriously? This is a new level of trashy. Even for you.”

“Alright, alright,” it’s rafe now that grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. “You guys are very dramatic.” He tells you as he takes to the other side of the house in the living room.

But you’re frowning. It’s hard not to be upset. And you’re dripping with beer. “My outfit…” you pull your arm from his, stopping. In turn, this stops him and he turns to look down at your sad figure. “It’s ruined…”

He’s quiet. And you’re about to tell him it’s time to call it a night. His hand grabs your chin, making you look up at him. There’s a look of determination on his face, which shocks you greatly. “You’re not giving up. I’m gonna make sure Jonah sees you for the hot piece of ass you are, alright?”

His words send a hot flush through your body. You hate how shy you get when he’s nice. Or when he’s trying to be nice. Even during his kind moments, he’s abrasive. But you’re learning to take him as he is.

“Now, push those boobs up and be confident.”

“Stop saying boobs!”

—

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco0

#rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron texts #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #obx x you #obx x reader #obx x y/n #obx smau #obx social au #obx social media au #drew starkey

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ruruumin · 1 day ago

Text

take my body back.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x childhood friend! fem! reader.

⤷ swapping bodies with isagi was not on his things to do, but loving you is.

this might have been either the worst thing imaginable, or the most humiliating. he is looking at himself in the mirror, eyes twitching. he brings up one hand to pull down the underside of his lower eyelashes.

after crashing into each other during a practice game, isagi and rin had mysteriously swapped bodies. with stifled laughter from the rest of their team, they had to stay within the same infirmary until things settled down. ego chalked it up to being a very rare malfunction in their suits. while he works on a solution with anri, the two were dismissed from practices all together.

isagi was the more panicky of the two. he was looking at himself frantically in the mirror, shaking bachira by the shoulder in a frenzy. he couldn’t go home. not like this, he kept saying. even though isagi’s wish of being taller and physically stronger, he did not mean he wanted to be in rin’s body.

“what is so wrong with my body?” rin asks, albeit in isagi’s voice, coming off higher pitched and squeakier to his ears.

“nothing!” isagi instantly shuts his mouth. he raises both of his hands, waving them around as he looks in all sorts of directions. being in the wrong body felt so weird. hearing rin’s voice come off as shy and embarrassed was the last thing on bachira and nagi’s bucket list. and god did they take pleasure out of their torment.

“its just that—how are we supposed to go back to our normal lives like this?” he confesses, scratching the back of his neck, “if i show up to my moms doorstep she’ll get the wrong idea!”

rin blinks slowly, a dull look casting over isagi’s body. “stop making such a big deal out of it. it’ll be fixed soon.” throwing a towel over his shoulder, rin is about to leave the locker rooms (in his body) before isagi reaches out to stop him.

“what about your girlfriend, what is she going to say?”

now this is the unfortunate reality.

he has no idea how you will react to him going back home in a completely different body. and although you knew isagi in passing, he can’t just show up to your shared apartment like this. its a sick and cruel joke, he thought to himself. rin glances over to isagi with a hardened gaze.

him and his six foot body, long lower eyelashes and scowl are now being flipped inside out and upside down. seeing it as a different person and not just a reflection confuses him on unimaginable levels.

whatever he’s suggests next comes off like acid on his tongue.

.☘︎ ݁˖

you are shocked when you open the door. seeing two men, one of which is your boyfriend, and the other his rival, with opposite expressions. isagi is staring at you with a deep grimace while rin looks happy and relieved to see you.

“let us in.” isagi, no, rin commands.

“why is isagi here?” you ask, pressing your lips together as you step to the side. they shuffled out of their shoes, dropping them next to the cubby beside the door. “you should have told me if we were going to have guests over, i would have tidied up a little.”

rin’s eyes scans over your figure. you were wearing a plain t shirt and shorts, your hair was a bit of a frazzled mess, a clear sign that you had just woken up from your nap. he has half a heart to hug you right then and there, but touching you in isagi’s body is going to feel like poison.

to his horror, you’re by isagi’s side, helping him take off his jacket. rin immediately reaches over to stop you, giving you a deadly glare.

“don’t touch him.” he warns.

this leads you to push him off to the side, frowning. “what are you doing?” in an accusatory tone, you peel off the jacket, “what has gotten into you, isagi? you used to be so polite.”

“a-ah, well-” isagi bashfully looks away, “the thing is, i’m actually not rin.”

“huh?”

rin pushes isagi away from you (god forbid he touches you in isagi’s body), huffing as he does so. feeling his chest through isagi’s hands is horrifically gross and he swears he will rip ego in half if he doesn’t find a solution quickly.

after some short but confusing explanation from isagi, the two of them were seated on the couch while you stood over them. with a hand on your hip, you mumble something underneath your lips, trying to wrap your head around the strange phenomenon.

“so my boyfriend is in...your body,” you point at rin’s body, dragging it over to isagi, “and you’re in rin’s body.”

“that’s what we’re trying to tell you.”

you flick rin’s forehead, causing him to deliver a sharp exhale, “this is your fault for not being more careful during practice matches. what happened to taking care of yourself? did it go in one ear and out the other?”

“of course not,” he huffs, brushing through his hair but noticing how much shorter it is now that he isn’t in his actual body.

“this idiot over here was the one who got the yellow card.”

“huh?”

isagi shoves a finger at rin, “you’re the one who rammed into me!”

“can it!”

the two of them start to bicker with one another. as serious as a head injury might be, you’re honestly flabbergasted seeing them together like this. it almost cracks a smile on your face when you see rin’s body soften. but you awkwardly clear your throat, breaking up the argument with a sigh.

“do you need a place to stay for the night?” you turn to isagi, “we can give you the couch to sleep on if you’re not comfortable going home right now. i think its the least i can do since rin has been so much trouble for you.”

before the man could protest at your words, isagi beamed with happiness and relief, “that would be great (name). i don’t want to overstay my welcome so i’ll leave tomorrow morning to see ego.”

“i can’t believe my rin rin can look this peaceful,” you say, swooning a little bit.

“shut up,” rin claps a hand over your mouth, “all this nonsense is making me tired.”

despite his harsh and seemingly cold words, you can read him too easily. the subtle touch on your shoulder is enough for you to decipher his wants, and what he wants right now is to unravel in your arms.

placing a hand on his lower bicep, you guide him into your shared bedroom, not before waving to isagi to tell him that you will fetch a warm blanket later. he nods and gives you few kind words. it makes you want to laugh at how obvious it was that they swapped bodies. rin can be polite to you, but never this polite. it makes the situation all the more entertaining when you feel your boyfriend drag you into your rooms.

away from isagi’s prying eyes, he is leaning his head against your shoulder, slowly exhaling. his chest moves up and down, shoulders racking down with shivers. you bring up one hand to pat him on the back, pulling him down from cloud nine. anymore of your warmth and he thinks he is about to sink into you. he has to hold back the urge to squeeze you because the body he is in is not his.

its killing him inside how he wants to love you.

you, his childhood friend and biggest fan, his light and first (possibly only) love. standing so cute and comfortable in front of him with eyes so warm it could melt his cold, popsicle-self into a pool of sticky wetness. he doesn’t mind that you aren’t dressed up. he thinks its even better, seeing you like this.

he doesn’t like how much shorter he is now. he used to be able to press a kiss on the top of your head with ease. now he’s...fun-sized, as he would put it. he lacks the arm muscles hes so used to having. he doesn’t have the confident suave he was born with (something you’ve always told was a birthright of the itoshi family).

it could have been worse, he tells himself. imagine he swapped bodies with igaguri or shidou. he would have thrown himself into the nearest river if he had to come home to you in shidou’s body. the thought alone makes him want to gag.

but with you in his arms, it makes his heart grow bigger. like the christmas grinch, he has finally found his happiness and the whimsical joys that come from being your boyfriend. its seriously killing him inside, he wants to kiss you with his own lips, hold you with his own arms, and carry you off into the distance in his body.

you wipe away a string of tears that dribble down his cheek. he didn’t realize he was crying until he heard your gentle whispers. even though he no longer looks like sae, he misses his own body. he yearns to see the scowl on his face that he has grown to slowly love, only because you kept pressing kisses to his cheeks and dimples. he wants to see his hands on your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counters to hold you even closer to his chest, to kiss you at the same height.

he didn’t realize how much he has taken for granted until he was in someone else’s shoes.

when you brush his, or isagi’s hair, he just wishes he could turn back the clock and kiss you stupid. steal the air from your lungs that he swore belongs to him, and him only.

that night might have been the most strangest yet sweetest experience in the world. with isagi taking the couch and you and rin sleeping on the ground next to him (he didn’t want to sleep in an empty bed without you, and vise versa, he promises he wouldn’t let you be alone as long as he was here).

hes holding onto your hand with his pinky, a subtle touch that sends warmth down his spine. even in a different body, you still love him.

and he loves you, so much that it hurts.

#₊˚ ᗢ ruruumin #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 3 days ago

Text

chance of showers

pairing: leon x reader

cws: piss, p in v, pee in v, ddlg

a/n: yeah, it was bound to happen, wasn't it? the double sin of ddlg and piss

wc: 1.5k

These days, Leon bids you adieu in the threshold between your typical affection and your faux-innocence facade that comes with a side of fuck-me eyes. That’s when Daddy takes over.

When he comes home from work, he can sense the desperation threatening to boil over into teary-eyed, delirious begging so he gives you an offer you can’t refuse: he’ll be your chauffeur to the not-quite-luxurious sex-filled sanctuary of your shared bedroom. That is to say, he’ll carry you across the hall where he can fuck you stupid without all the back pain that a couch rendezvous would give him.

You greet him with a hug and a heart-eyed grin, immediately discarding all previous activities for his attention. You’ve been gorilla-glue stuck to the TV all day due to the once a week chance to watch all the High School Musical movies on cable — which Leon still pays for — one after the other. He can tell by your antsy legs, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s not nerves– daddy makes you relaxed. No, it’s a cute little pee-pee dance.

“Do you need to do something before we go have some fun together?”

“Uh-uh. I wanna have special time with daddy now.”

“Are you sure? If you need to go pee, daddy can wait for you.”

“I don’t need to go.”

Leon doesn’t need a polygraph test to know that’s a fucking lie.

But, you’re a big girl, or, at least, you’ve insisted that you are whenever Leon challenges that silly little ‘fact’ you’ve tried to manifest into reality.

The reality is: you need daddy’s help, particularly when you’re in this state.

Leon should take you by the hand and lead you to the bathroom, he should tell, not ask. But, it’s like letting your toddler touch the hot stove just once – they’ll learn their lesson and they’ll never do it again.

You’re an adult who has the reasoning skills to know that you should pee. Plus, it’s not like pissing yourself is anything more than an embarrassing moment and a bitch to clean up.

So, Leon doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he has you how he wants you. All fucked-out, your pussy stuffed so full you can see his dick in your abdomen and your brain completely empty of all thoughts (and your bladder so full he could make you burst if he pressed on your stomach with enough force).

As he often does, Leon makes you ride him because he thinks it’s cute to watch you struggle, and he inevitably takes over the job of gripping your hips and pulling them back down to meet his. Over and over again until you think you’re going to pass out.

Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is occupied with your constant moaning – until you have an ‘uh-oh’ moment. Leon can see it flash across your face.

“Daddy,” you manage through a shaky voice. “No more, no more.”

The thing is: No more isn’t your safe word. No more is usually what you say when everything feels so intense that you’re overwhelmed and need Leon’s reassurance. He rubs your back and showers you in praise while he continues to fuck you as the unwritten protocol says he should.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“No, no,” you protest, shaking your head vehemently. “Have to go pee, daddy.”

“Baby, we’ve been through this before, remember? The first time you squirted, you thought you were gonna pee, but you didn’t. You liked that feeling, right?”

It’s true. You were absolutely convinced you’d pee yourself the first time Leon made you squirt, but you both suspect this time is different.

“No, I’m really gonna pee this time.”

You’re clenching around him, he can feel it. Maybe you are going to squirt, he thinks.

Piss is hardly the worst thing Leon’s been covered in – he’s 40 years old, old enough to give up on giving a fuck about this kind of thing. And, God, he’ll take any chance to tease you.

“Didn’t Daddy ask you if you needed to go pee earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you say?”

“No.”

“Was that a lie? Did you lie to Daddy?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, since you made your choice by yourself and didn’t want daddy’s help, you’re not gonna get it. You can hold it until I’m done with you.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Then, I guess you’ll just have to let it out.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to. I wanna hold it.”

Go right ahead, he thinks, as he continues to fuck you, completely disregarding your desperation. He wants to see you break and at this point, you’re doing anything to hold back, on the verge of tears.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you start to cry as warm liquid trickles out of you, coating his cock little by little as pee continues to flow from you. You only leak a little in the grand scheme of things, but you’re humiliated, full-on crying to the point where it’s worrisome.

Finally, he slows his thrusts.

“Hey,” he rubs your back soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I told you you could do it. I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s so embarrassing.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I bet it felt good to let go. Didn’t it?”

“A little bit… but I still have to go more.”

“Then, go, baby. Let it out.”

Because, one, it doesn’t matter at this point – he’ll have to change the sheets anyway. And, two, he finds the whole ordeal a bit more arousing than he suspected he would.

When you dare to make eye-contact, you’ve got doubt written all over you, like you think this is some sort of trap or a sacrifice of his comfort for yours.

“Go ahead. It’s gonna feel good.”

Nervous, but desperate, you have to let go.

Leon praises you as you finally allow yourself some relief, releasing short bursts and then a steady stream.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Let it all out.”

When the torrential downpour slows to a leaky faucet, his thumb finds its way to your clit and he resumes his thrusts, gaining momentum steadily.

Your next revelation is not an ‘uh-oh’, just an ‘oh’ in a series of incoherent moans.

“Daddy, daddy, I’m gonna-”

“I know you are.”

Neither of you can be sure if your next release is pee or squirt but what matters is that you came, squeezing Leon’s cock so perfectly that he’s barely hanging on by the time you’re coming down from your high.

Usually, he asks you where you want it, makes you beg for it inside, and he finally gives it to you, but now, his face is already buried in the crook of your shoulder as he’s given into the pleasure.

He fills you to the brim, ruins the bed a little more for the sake of a heavenly orgasm. It’s totally fucking worth it every time.

After a moment of silence, he pats you on the butt and says, “hop up, baby”.

“No,” you protest, wrapping your arms around him.

“Baby, I’ll come right back, but I gotta pee.”

He laughs a little at the irony. It feels cruel in a way to make you piss yourself while he gets a more dignified experience.

You’re ready to even out the score, quick to turn the tables.

“No,” you insist. “You can either hold it or wait until I’m done with you.”

Leon should’ve anticipated your smartass move.

“You really want me to piss inside you? ‘Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t let me get up.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s a plea for you to let him go.

“It’s only fair,” you say.

“Fine,” he concedes, repositioning you so that you’re on your back. Yeah, he could get up, he could win now that he’s on top, but maybe there’s a part of him that wants to do this. To make you regret your attitude when you find out what it feels like for Leon to piss inside you, to prove something to you, to punish you – there are so many excuses, but the truth is: the idea excites him.

“You ready?” he asks – though the question is more directed at himself as stage fright begins to creep up inside him.

“You can do it, daddy,” you say, voice full of genuine encouragement rather than your previous taunting tone.

So, he does. The release is double the relief with your warmth surrounding him as he lets go. You look awfully curious, almost in awe of the fact that it’s happening, especially since you can’t exactly see it – at least, not yet. But Leon’s feeling the type of relaxation that less obstinate people get from meditation.

“All done,” he says, knowing that’s a fucking lie, but pulling out anyway, letting the last droplets hit you on the stomach.

“Daddy!” you say, amusement barely hidden behind your mild vexation.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug and a smirk that says he’s anything but.

“I think it’s time for a trip to the bathroom. We really need to shower,” you say.

“Hey, I just gave you a little bit of a shower, baby. If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

But that kind of shower will have to wait until next time.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 21 hours ago

Text

Welcome to the neighborhood

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22

Prompt: Santa

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Single Dad Steve; Single Dad Eddie; Steve is Dustin’s dad; Eddie is Max's dad; Neighbors; Christmas

Steve presses the doorbell for the third time, secretly wishing he'd put on his coat - or his outdoor shoes at least. Nobody has bothered removing the snow from the walkway leading up to the door, and it's seeping into his slippers and socks.

“Maybe they aren't home,” Dustin says, voice slightly muffled from under his scarf.

Steve scoffs, mentally cursing Carol for talking him into this. “I saw the car pull into the garage, they're here.”

He's just trying to decide if he should rap his freezing knuckles against the milk glass pane or tell Carol to go fuck herself when the door swings open, revealing a girl around Dustin’s age. She's sporting a vicious scowl and a shock of violently orange hair.

“Oh hi,” Steve says. “Are your parents home?”

She gives them a long, pointed once over. Steve in his slippers and too-thin shirt and Dustin in his knitted Minecraft hat.

Then, without turning, she hollers, “Dad! It's the hottie from across the street.”

Somewhere in the house, somebody drops something. There's a barrage of swear words that makes Steve wanna cover Dustin’s ears, and then a whirlwind of black clothes and frizzy curls descends down the stairs and almost barrels into the stack of half unpacked boxes in the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, Maxine! Sorry about that, I dunno what she's on about.”

The girl rolls her eyes.

“You said it. Own it.”

The man glares at her. She grins.

“Hi,” Steve says again, bravely ignoring the heat rising under his collar. “Nice to meet you. I live-”

“Across the street. She just said it,” Dustin provides helpfully. “Hi, I'm Dustin, this is my dad.”

The girl gives him a lazy wave. “So, what do you do for fun around here, Dustin?”

He shrugs. “I was about meet some friends, throw snowballs at cars. You wanna come?”

“Ew, lame,” she says, grabbing her coat off another box. “Let's go.”

Steve watches them disappear down the street, already deep in conversation about something or other.

“Well, then.” The other man extends his hand. It's adorned in clunky rings and covered in paint stains. “Do I get a proper introduction, or are we doing that thing where we refer to each other as Max's and Dustin’s Dad until it gets awkward, but by then we're too embarrassed to ask so we just skirt around it and say ‘hey, you’ for several years?”

Steve is snorting a laugh before he remembers he's supposed to be mad.

“Steve,” he says, taking the offered hand. It's pleasantly warm after the frosty air. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Steve,” the man repeats, and something about the way it rolls off his tongue makes a different kind of warmth settle in Steve’s chest. “Hi, I'm Eddie. What brings you here on this fine- oh shit, should I ask you to come inside? My kitchen is still very much a work in progress, but I got the coffee maker running yesterday, so I could fix us-”

“It's fine,” Steve lies. He's starting to lose the feeling in his toes. “I just wanted to- … I'm here on behalf of the Home Owners’ Community.”

Eddie tilts his head at him. “There's a Home Owners’ Community?”

“Um, yes,” Steve says, raking a hand through snow-soaked hair. “Didn't you get our welcome pamphlet? It has this chees- … um, cheery picture on it. Happy family in their yard with their dog?”

“Oh, that!” Eddie’s mouth goes round. “Yes, I got that. Threw it out. Looked culty to me.”

Steve gawks at him. He smiles.

“Culty,” Steve repeats. He fucking told Carol the fucking photo was too much, but did she fucking listen to him?

“Yup,” Eddie confirms cheerfully. “Why?”

Steve laughs weakly. “Nothing, just- … I think that's pretty damn bold, coming from someone whose idea of a Christmas decoration is this!”

Eddie follows his sweeping hand gesture to take in his own front lawn, like he's seeing it for the first time. The giant, inflatable Santa swaying cheerily in the snowy breeze. The grinning crowd of plastic skeletons dancing by its feet. Some have pitchforks.

The whole spectacle is rounded off by a wooden sign, hand-painted in bright red letters.

It reads HAIL SANTA.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You see, we didn’t get around to doing anything for Halloween this year, what with the move, and it's Max's favorite holiday, so-”

“Yeah, great,” Steve says. “But the Homeowners’ Community has rules, and they clearly state that Christmas decorations must be-”

Eddie pats his cheek. His hand is even warmer on Steve’s face than it was against his fingers.

“But I'm not part of your little club, unfortunately.” His tone is all honest regret, but the quirk of his mouth and the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes tell a different story. “And I'm not gonna join, so there's nothing you can do to stop me. And if she has an issue with that, I suggest chairwoman Carol Hagan come over and say it to my face, instead of hiding behind your back. Not that I blame her. It's a nice back.”

“But you said-” Steve sputters. “So you did read it!”

“You should go home now,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “Don't wanna be seen getting friendly with the likes of me. Plus, you might lose a toe if you stay like that.”

He nods down at Steve's soaked slippers - they may be unsalvageable by now - then starts to close the door in his face.

“Wait,” Steve says. Eddie does, peering out from behind the door with large, hopeful eyes. “Does that offer for coffee still stand?”

Eddie’s eyes light up. So do the led flames surrounding Santa's ghastly entourage.

Carol can mind her own business, Steve decides. He'll get friendly with whoever the hell he pleases.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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sweeturavity · 1 day ago

Note

Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

𝓒𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

you loved your husband dearly—even though his attitude sometimes felt like wrangling a feral cat, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. katsuki was a great husband and an even better father. somehow, he managed to juggle being the number one hero, a title that came with endless demands, while still making time for you and your little family.

and then there was kanji. your six-year-old son who was, quite frankly, a miniature katsuki in every sense. the same fiery attitude, the unshakable stubbornness, the sass that could cut sharper than any blade. even the way he’d glare at people—it was uncanny. sometimes you’d swear you were looking at a younger version of your husband.

it wasn’t just his personality, either. kanji’s wild blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, and even the way he crossed his arms when he was annoyed? all bakugou. it was as if the universe had taken katsuki and hit the copy-paste button without consulting you first. you couldn’t help but feel a little robbed—after all, you were the one who carried him for nine months, dealt with the swollen feet, the cravings, the mood swings. and yet, kanji turned out to be a walking, talking katsuki replica.

but honestly? you didn’t really mind. even when kanji’s temper flared, or when he mimicked his dad’s bossy tone, it made your heart warm. because as much as katsuki’s attitude could be a challenge, you loved everything about him. and seeing those same traits in kanji, no matter how chaotic they made your days, was a reminder of the love the two of you had built.

you always knew how much your son looked up to his father—it was written all over kanji’s face. every little thing katsuki did, kanji wanted to do, too. he’d follow katsuki around the house, mimicking his movements, copying the way he crossed his arms or the gruff way he’d say, ‘tch’. kanji’s biggest dream, even at six years old, was to be the number one hero, just like his dad. and katsuki? oh, he ate that up.

“when you’re older, kid, i’ll show ya all the tricks.” katsuki would say, ruffling kanji’s already messy blond hair. “i’ll make sure you’re better than all those extras out there.” kanji’s eyes would light up every time, and the two of them would launch into some over-the-top conversation about training regimens and hero rankings. their bond was undeniable, built on the same fiery ambition and drive that katsuki had passed down to him.

but with that bond came the attitude. katsuki’s attitude. and you swore sometimes it was your curse to deal with two versions of the same fiery temper under one roof. kanji had inherited more than just katsuki’s looks—he had the same sharp tongue, the same unrelenting sass, and the same way of glaring at you like you were personally ruining his day when he didn’t get his way.

you loved your son to pieces, but oh, how your patience was tested.

you swore sometimes you could feel your eye twitch when your six-year-old son had the audacity to sass you. “kanji, clean up your toys.” you’d say, only to be met with an exasperated; “ugh, fine, mom. i’ll do it later, jeez!” complete with an eye roll so dramatic it could win awards.

“watch your tone, kanji.” you’d warn, and from the next room, katsuki would shout, “oi, don’t be talkin’ to your mom like that, you little brat!” and yet, you’d catch him stifling a laugh when kanji wasn’t looking, because deep down, katsuki knew exactly where the kid got it from.

there were days you swore you were outnumbered—two bakugous against one you—but deep down, you couldn’t help but love it. kanji’s sass, as frustrating as it could be, was just another reminder of the fiery, headstrong family you’d built. even if it meant you’d occasionally lose an argument to a six-year-old.

and that’s how you ended up in this situation. you were just trying to get through the grocery trip without any chaos. that was the goal. in and out—grab the essentials and avoid anything that might set off your six-year-old son, kanji. but, of course, life had other plans.

everything had been going smoothly until you turned down the toy aisle, rookie mistake. kanji’s sharp gaze zeroed in on a display of action figures, specifically a limited-edition hero toy that looked suspiciously like dynamight himself. his tiny hand grabbed your sleeve, tugging with determination.

“mom! mom! look! it’s dad’s toy! i need it!”

you gave him a soft smile, crouching down to his level. “kanji, we’re not getting toys today, baby. we’re just here for groceries. you already have tons of toys at home.”

big mistake.

his bottom lip jutted out, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “but i don’t have this one!”

before you could reason with him, he dropped to the floor in a dramatic fashion, kicking his legs and letting out an ear-piercing wail that had heads turning from all directions. your cheeks burned as you tried to calm him, murmuring soft words that fell on deaf ears.

“kanji, stop this right now.” you whispered, glancing around at the growing number of onlookers. “you’re making a scene.”

“i don’t care!” he shouted back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i want it!”

just as you were about to give up and let the earth swallow you whole, a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

“kanji.”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. katsuki’s voice was low and sharp, the kind that made grown adults flinch—and it had your son freezing mid-tantrum.

before you could say anything else, katsuki—who’d been a few steps behind grabbing something off the shelf—appeared, his towering figure and unmistakable presence shutting down the entire aisle’s noise. his crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at kanji.

“oi, brat. knock it off.” he barked, his voice low and firm, the same tone he used as pro hero dynamight when things got serious. kanji’s sobs faltered for a moment, but he looked up at his dad with that same fiery determination katsuki himself had mastered.

“but daddy! i need it!” kanji tried, sniffling dramatically.

“you don’t need it.” katsuki shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “what you need is to listen to your mom and stop actin’ like a damn spoiled kid.”

kanji’s bottom lip quivered. “but—”

“no buts.” katsuki interrupted, crouching down to kanji’s level. his tone softened just slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. “you think screamin’ and cryin’ is gonna get you what you want? not a chance. that ain’t how it works. you don’t get somethin’ just ‘cause you throw a fit. you gotta earn it, got it?”

kanji blinked up at him, his tears slowing as the weight of his dad’s words sank in. he mumbled something incoherent, and katsuki tilted his head.

“what was that?”

“got it.” kanji said more clearly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“good.” bakugou said, ruffling the boy’s spiky blonde hair before standing back up. he glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay, mama?”

“yeah.” you muttered, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from the scene. “thanks for stepping in.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “you’ve been dealin’ with his crap all day, huh?”

“you have no idea.”

bakugou glanced back at kanji, who was now holding onto your leg, looking thoroughly chastised.“now quit the damn tears and help your mom with the list.” katsuki stood up and ruffled kanji’s messy blond hair, his version of an apology for being so harsh.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. katsuki turned to you with a smirk, his tone lighter now. “what?”

“strict dad mode, huh?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“damn right. kid’s gotta learn. can’t have him thinkin’ just ‘cause his old man’s dynamight he can get whatever he wants.”

later, as you loaded groceries into the car, you noticed katsuki handing a small bag to kanji, who lit up with excitement.

“you bought it for him anyway?” you asked, raising a brow.

katsuki shrugged, smirking. “don’t get used to it, kid.” he said to kanji. “this doesn’t mean you get what you want every time.”

kanji nodded enthusiastically, clutching the action figure like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

you rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “strict dad, my ass.”

“hey.” katsuki shot back, pulling you closer. “i can be strict and still spoil my kid. he is a bakugou, after all.”

#this is so cute #sigh.. i need my man right NEOWW #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsukibakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #mha bakugou #mha x reader

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