#i think i need to throw this in the washing machine for a week or so so that this idea loses its shape

[rottenpumpkin13]

A long time ago, you received an ask about what languages the Firsts would like to learn. It went something like "Zack wants to learn Spanish because of -insert reason-" "Sephiroth wants to learn Latin totally not because of One Winged Angel" "Genesis wants to learn French to sound better than everybody". But the one I actually remember is Angeal:

Angeal: "If I had to learn another language, I would like to learn English, because nobody understands when I say to PUT. YOUR DISHES. IN THE DISHWASHER. PUTTING THEM ON THE COUNTER BY THE SINK DOES NOTHING."

I would like to counter this response by saying I put all the dishes neatly in the dishwasher for years until a new member of my family straight up refused to learn how to do it right. If the bowls aren't balanced the right way, they won't get washed. If you put things in the wrong location, you waste a lot of useful space. But this man flat out said "I refuse to learn how to do this right because I don't care".

So out of SPITE, dishes now sit on the kitchen counter because I refuse to be bothered when no one else gives a shit. What does Angeal think about this if this is something one of his fellow Firsts did?

Angeal may try to project an image of humility and honor, but he combats petty with petty. If he realizes people who have the privilege of owning a dishwasher are being disorderly out of spite, he'll do things to be even pettier. This includes:

• One time he witnessed Sephiroth dump a perfectly good mug of coffee down the drain, and made it his personal mission to mess with him. Over a month, he methodically swapped all of Sephiroth's coffee with decaf and watched Sephiroth slowly descend into madness.

• When Genesis couldn't be bothered to wash his dishes in the break room, Angeal turned it into an art show. He'd collect the dirty dishes and created elaborate display outside Genesis' office, complete with angallery-style label like "Exhibit 17: A Study in Neglected Responsibilities"

• Changed all the settings on Zack's computer so it would autocorrect "SOLDIER" to "SHOULDER" in his official emails to Director Lazard. Lazard received three reports about "SHOULDER Second Class performance reviews"

• Orchestrated a three-week psychological campaign to convince everyone—including Sephiroth himself—that he was allergic to coffee. Every time Sephiroth took a sip, Angeal would squint and ask about non-existent rashes until even Sephiroth started second-guessing himself.

• Loves cooking extravagant meals just to send photos to his friends with captions like "Made your favorite dish… Not for you though" or "This could've been yours."

• Claims everyone's preferred spots, especially Sephiroth's cherished right-side aisle seat in their usual mess hall booth. He'll sit there with a straight face while watching Sephiroth's internal blue screen. (punishment for the coffee)

•Steals Sephiroth's favorite coffee mug, making it mysteriously appear in increasingly bizarre locations around the 49th floor. like inside the copy machine, balanced on top of the water cooler, in the middle of board meeting tables, and once inside the vents.

• Changes Zack's training sessions into "essential SOLDIER skills" that suspiciously look like chores, like organizing the filing room, polishing all the doorknobs in the building, alphabetizing Angeal's spice rack, and putting coffee beans in the air vent in Sephiroth's office, so that Sephiroth constantly smells coffee whenever he's working.

• Weaponizes his infamous lectures. Once subjected Genesis to a 45-minute lecture on "proper pizza etiquette and the spiritual implications of throwing out the crust." Gives Sephiroth an hour-long lecture about resource conservation whenever he spots him with coffee. Sephiroth is in hell

• Takes malicious delight in creatively misinterpreting Sephiroth's requests:

Sephiroth: The coffee maker needs cleaning. Angeal: *Completely disassembles the coffee maker and spreads all its parts across Sephiroth's desk and cleaning supplies* Sephiroth: *visibly fighting the urge to cry*

• Maintains a detailed "incident log" where he documents everyone's minor transgressions. Once pulled it out during a board meeting to remind Genesis about "The Great Stapler Misplacement of Last Tuesday." Adds a tally mark under Sephiroth's name every time he spots him with coffee.

• Started a rumor that his office plant can sense irresponsibility. Strategically moves it around the office to "watch" people. Zack is completely convinced it's judging him.

Zack: I swear it droops when I forget to hand in my reports! Angeal, watering plant: The voice of nature speaks the truth.

• Sephiroth has quit coffee.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

i was rereading the start of the 17th for the genderbend AU, and uh. i gotta say. it's kind of funny how surprised i was at how seemingly stable and cheery tesilid is once he got his memories back.

[klipkillakai]

Connie and bae getting into an argument about his friendship with his ex Sasha and she walks out mid argument because he was tryna defend their friendship. She leaves and doesn’t show up until like two weeks later because she knows he’s crazy about her and she wants to test his loyalty (basically seeing if he would come look for her or not) I’ll leave the rest up to you

inner peace 🎋

“i keep telling you about that bitch connie” you spit while throwing clothes in the washing machine with a harshness as your fuming with anger, your not a jealous person.. never, you respect boundaries and you think it’s reasonable for your man to have friends within the opposite sex, within certain bounds, but sasha.. sasha clearly likes him, the way she finds any way to touch him, the way she brightens her voice when talking to him, the way she looks at you when he’s not paying attention, and the way you know she’s had the pleasure of being all over you man’s dick at some point..

you hear connie’s heavy footsteps walk down the hall, knowing he’s looking for you—

“you say that every time she comes over mama, i keep trynna tell you we just friends”

you roll your eyes “please connie.. she be all over you, “oh connie you so funny” “connie remember when we was together and we did this” “connie remember the time i did a split on it” you say pissed as hell can’t believing she actually say that..

you hear a sigh “she’s just joking, you know that—

you look up “don’t tell me what i fucking know connie, cs your really starting to piss me off” you push pass him and start walking towards the living room

“bro you need to relax alright, your acting like a bitch right now..”

you stop walking and you turn around to face him, “i’m acting like a what?”

he smacks his teeth “man you heard me”

you just stare at him, feeling the anger of all those times, you watched her flirt with him and he seemingly flirting back, the small touches.. the whispers and the stank looks caught up to you in that one moment until now, does he even want you? why is he fighting so hard for her? does he have that same loyalty when it comes to you? i guess we gon find out..

“fuck you connie” you spit out with a potent venom, you make a show of climbing up the stairs and ripping open the hall closet to grab your suitcase and duffel bag

connie’s heart sinks knowing he fucked up, he quickly runs up the stairs and follows you, he sees you packing up your stuff and his heart stutters

“where you going?” you don’t say anything, shoving all your clothes in your bag, opening the drawer and discreetly grabbing your passport and stack he had left in there and you shove it your duffel..

“you must not want this like you claim” you say calmly “your willing to call me a bitch over your ex who i say clearly makes ME uncomfortable” “where is your loyalty to me connie? why aren’t you defending ME?” you say and stare up at him with unshed tears in your eyes.. so guess what.. i’m going away and i’m gonna let you think about where your loyalty lies..

connies mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say, he never thought this what happen, he never thought you would leave him like this, “imma fix this jus don’t leave” he starts stuttering out, he watches you grab all your bags and walking down the stairs “baby- FUCK please don’t leave” he says rubbing a hand down his head, at this point panicking over the thought of not seeing you again..

you don’t care, you’ve had enough and you need him to see, you slip on your crocs by the door and you walk outside, connie closely following, you throw all your shit in your car and you get in quicker than connie can catch you and you lock it so can’t get in, he banging on the door, pleading for you to not leave—

“please baby don’t” “don’t fucking do this y/n”

“GET OUT THE FUCKING CAR” he starts pulling on the door—

you start the car and you pull out, as connie starts following, trying to run with the car, but you speed off not giving a fuck..

connie stands in the middle of the road, yelling profanities, loosing his shit, he walks back in the house, and punches the wall, leaving a hole..

the first night you spend at your friends house, crying telling her what happened as you head you phone buzzing constantly, flooding for texts from connie and his friends, you didn’t care tho, you decided you was gon book a trip to costa rica, you have the money and you just want to get away..

a week has passed and connie wakes up, with a massive headache, he’s drunken and cried himself to sleep more than he wants to admit, he misses you, his baby, he misses waking up next to you and getting food with you, he misses your mind, your laughter, the peace you give him, and your gone

he’s reflected this passed week and he realizes his relationship with sasha is inappropriate, and it was confirmed when he called to cut her off, she called you all types of bitches and insecure and he realizes he been the biggest fucking idiot, and how much grace you’ve given him.. now he doesn’t know where you are, you blocked him and your friends refuse to tell him where you are, he stands up from the bed and decides to shower, he knows he should clean up the room but.. he needs to clean himself first,

—music floods the house soon after, and connie is shirtless fixing the hole in the wall, fixing the drywall with a white paste, he gets a ding cutting his music off for a second and he looks at his phone hoping it’s you, it’s eren and he reads the texts “this yo girl?”

connie’s brows furrow and watches the friends only story and sees you on a beach somewhere, just glowing, eyes looking brighter than he’s seen in awhile, your humming along to some song in spanish and it your with a group of people, someone says something in the background and you let out a soft giggle before the video ends..

connie feels his heart sink, not because you’ve done anything bad or anything like that, but he’s sees your thriving, you look better, you’ve gained a little weight, you look well rested and that makes him look like a shit person, had he been that draining? was his relationship with sasha stressing you out that much? why didn’t he listen to you? why didn’t he believe you?

he slams his phone down, climbing up the stairs abandoning, his project, just wanting to roll up that point and sleep—

-two weeks later-

you sigh as you walk off the plane, neck pillow around your neck and headphones over your ears, you can still feel the sway of the water all over your body, you can still feel the warmth of the sun and you can still taste the sweetness of the fruit on your tongue, you unblocked connie on the plane and watched all the texts pop up on your phone, you’ve forgiven him at this point and now you think about him, you miss him, you miss his smile, his jokes, him dancing around the house.. his dick, everything..and your glad to be back home..

connie hasn’t seen you in three weeks and at this point he’s lost a bit of hope, the only peace he finds is when he wakes up early and heads to the gym, he hasn’t been much of a gym rat, he has been here in there but he’s started taking it more seriously, to distract himself, he drops the weight finishing his set, he gets a notification from his phone and sees its from ring, thinking it’s a package or something he almost clicks out but then he realizes it says door unlocked and his heart skips a beat, he grabs his bag and water and almost runs out the gym, he gets in his car and speeds off, hoping it’s you, hoping your finally home—

you walk inside and set your bags down, looking around “connie?” you yell, looking throughout the house and quickly realizing he’s not home, you walk downstairs and open the fridge grabbing a coconut water and sipping on it as you tap on your phone, you had gotten a fresh set of a acrylics before you came home and you love them so much..

30 mins pass and your listening to music as you cook some sausages in the pan, your stomach grumbling with hunger, you hear the door unlock and you slightly jump, heart skipping a beat.. you put down the spatula and quietly walk towards the foyer, hearing keys jiggling and shoes being kicked off..

you stand there, his back turned alway from you, a duffel on his shoulder and flowers in his hand and he finally turns towards you and your quickly met with a look of shock that morphs into a soft smile

“hi” you whisper, he slowly walks towards you “hi” he whispers back..

you run towards him and jump on him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms wrapping around his neck, he drops everything in his hand and wraps his arms tightly around you, he presses kisses all over your head and cheeks, whispering “im so sorry” and “i love you so much” “please don’t leave me again” you press a kiss to his lips and he walks further in living room and sits on the couch with you in his lap..

“how was your trip?” he whispers, staring at you like a hawk, trying to capture your face, in a way he never forgets anything about you again..

“peaceful” you whisper and softly wipe the tear slowly gliding down his cheek, you squeeze his arms and notices there firmer and stronger than usual and he jus smiles “i’ve been at the gym” you smile amused and nod “i like it” he softly grabs your cheek and kisses you..

you both know that you’ve changed and that your relationship will be different than before, but for the better, you guys are stronger than before and that gives you the peace you both have been looking for, inner peace..

——————————————————————————

|a/n|

chile i don’t think i’ve ever written angst before, i definitely think i could do a little better but, i didnt want it to be too depressing fr, but lmk if you want a part two for some smut 🤭, also sorry girl for taking so long to reply, school be kicking my ass fr!! but guysss send me more requests this was sooo fun!! i know for me that i want to see very specific things in fics or like smut, and the best way to make that possible is when you inbox the writer, so inbox me fr!!! i don’t bite 🩷

[a-killer-obsession]

Hiii !! Can I request Killer + somnophilia for the event that you're doing? And also wanted to say that I loooove your writing 💗💗 I hope you have a great day!

Combining a couple of requests that I think work well together!

Panty Raid

Prompt: Masturbation + Somnophilia

Additional Tags: afab reader, no reader pronouns used, panty kink, killer is a perver, dub-con, potentially read as non-con but it works out in the end, fingering, p in v sex, cum in panties

WC: 2.4k

Event Masterlist

Killer's obsession with your undergarments started in a totally innocent manner. A lost bet over a bad hand of cards had him doing your laundry for a month, a bet you never would have made with half the crew, knowing how perverted most of them could be. You thought Killer was more mature than that, but you should have known better than to tempt a grown man when it had been so many weeks since the last island, and most of the crew was in desperate need of a sexual outlet. The first few loads of laundry were done with little fuss, your dirty clothes disappearing from your room and reappearing the next day in neatly folded piles on your bed, freshly washed and dried. Killer had even ironed some of your items, the ones that tended to wrinkle in the wash. It was an extra step you appreciated, but it didn't surprise you; Killer had always been one for details.

It wasn't until the third load of laundry that Killer's more depraved thoughts began to win out. He knew you wore lacey panties, he'd seen them plenty of times before during sparring and in brisk winds, you were someone who was unashamed of your body, like most of the Kid Pirates, and you couldn't care less who saw your panties. The first time he'd seen your dirty panties in your laundry, he'd been quick to throw them in the machine. The second time, he hesitated, looking over his shoulder for prying eyes before holding them up to look at delicate garment better, imagining how they looked on you. He'd spent the next several hours with a half hard cock, much to his own shame. But the third time, that was when something really switched in his brain.

He looked over his shoulder to check he was alone before holding up the panties. They were a pale blue, the crotch still slightly damp, only recently removed. You hadn't even thought about Killer seeing them when you threw them in the laundry basket after touching yourself, not at all considering that they would still be a little damp when he found them. He ran his thumb over the damp spot, feeling the slick discharge still sitting on the fabric, his dick twitching as he realised what he was looking at. Without a second thought he brought the fabric to his face, pushing his mask up a little to press the panties to his nose, stifling a groan as he smelt your sweet arousal still on them. He shoved the panties in his pocket and hurried to load the rest of your laundry into the machine, switching it on and fleeing to his bedroom before the bulge in his pants became obvious to anyone.

As soon as the door was shut and locked he was unfastening his pants, tearing off his mask and throwing it to the floor as he collapsed on his back on the bed, bouncing a little as he landed. He pulled your panties from his pocket as he started to fist himself, bringing the panties to his face and taking deep inhales of your scent, letting himself groan out loud now that he was in private. Precum leaked from his cock, and he gathered it with his fingertips, and spreading it down his shaft to use as lubricant as his pumped his cock hard and fast, imagining you were sitting on his face so he could smell your sweet scent straight from the source.

Needing more stimulation, he shifted your panties to his cock, wrapping the fabric around his shaft and rubbing it up and down, his precum soaking into the fabric and making the satin slippery. His other hand travelled up, running under his shirt and tugging at his sensitive nipples. His hips bucked, fucking up into his hand, enjoying the texture of your panties against his erection. His other hand travelled down again, tracing over his stomach and running over his thighs, the coil in his abdomen pulling tight. He grabbed his balls and fondled them, putting himself over the edge, moaning your name as he spilled out over his fist and ruined your pretty panties with his cum.

Post nut clarity hit him like a truck as he looked down at your ruined garment still wrapped around his cock, accidentally torn from the pressure he'd put it under, and he flopped back against the bed with a guilt ridden groan. Later he would tell you the machine had chewed the pair up so he'd thrown them out, deciding it was less suspicious to be up front about it rather than wait for you to realise the panties were missing, and you would accept his excuse without question.

The next washing load he was more careful with your panties, making sure to not tear them as he fucked himself with the fabric before cleaning them and returning them with the rest of your laundry, no hint at all that he'd done anything untoward with them. He felt dirty, but it'd become an addiction, and he found himself smelling each pair he encountered, pocketing whichever was the most fragrant. Sometimes he even pocketed two at a time - one to smell, and one to fuck. Every time he finished he felt disgusted with himself, but he couldn't help seeking that rush again, knowing full well he was doing something wrong. It only served to turn him on more, especially when he'd cum over your panties, only to see you wearing the same pair a few days later when you sparred on the deck.

It was a particularly sweltering day on the Victoria Punk, with scalding temperatures as the ship travelled towards a hot summer island. With no cool wind to bring down your temperature, you'd retreated to your room as soon as your chores were done, stripping down to your underwear and promptly falling asleep on top of your bedding, spread out like a sweaty starfish. At this point, Killer never knocked before entering your room, he came and went often as he grabbed and returned your laundry. You had a wordless agreement, and usually you weren't even in there, since he usually came during the middle of the day while everyone was doing chores. He was surprised to find you in your room today, as he entered with an armful of ironed and folded clothing, even more surprised to find you face down in nothing but a pair of navy panties.

Killer felt all of his blood rush directly to his cock, putting down your pile of clothing carefully on your dresser. He knew for a fact that you were a heavy sleeper; much like Kid, you could probably sleep through a buster call if it came to it, and you'd absolutely slept through entire naval battles in the past. He knew he should turn around and leave, but his cock simply wouldn't let him, and he was feeling so pent up that he couldn't bring himself to deny his throbbing erection. Slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, he unzipped his jeans, lowering them just enough to free his erection. He bit down on his lip as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it slowly as he admired your round ass and thick thighs, laying so deliciously on your bed, so close he could touch you if he wanted. He shouldn't though, he shouldn't touch you. Oh fuck he wanted to touch you.

His hand moved like it had a mind of his own, hesitantly breezing over your thigh. He held his breath as he waited for you to react, releasing the breath when you didn't even twitch and letting his palm rest fully against your skin. He stroked your bare thigh tenderly, precum leaking from his cock as his hand slid towards the inner side and ran close to your centre, his thumb breezing over the lace trim that ran over the round of your ass. His hand moved to your ass cheek, giving an experimental grope, fingertips sliding under the hem of the panties and playing with the fabric.

Feeling bold, his hand slid further down. Your legs were already spread so beautifully for him because of the heat, so it was easy for him to trace his hand down under the fabric, brushing over your folds. You shuffled in your sleep slightly, but made no sign that you were waking, so he pushed his luck further. He couldn't contain his moan as his fingers slid between your folds and found you wet, slick coating his fingertips. He gathered as much of it as he could, switching hands so he could spread your juices over his shaft to use as lubricant, mixing it with his precum as he pumped himself slowly. His thumb ran over the outside of your panties, pressing the fabric into your folds as he pushed against your clit. You made a soft moan in your sleep and his cock twitched in response, feeling how your panties got slicker as your arousal began to soak through the thin fabric.

His fingers slipped underneath again, and this time he couldn't help but take it further. At this point if you woke up there was no saving himself, no excuse could cover his ass with the way he was jerking off and touching you. He was already breaking the boundaries of what was right and wrong, so he decided to go all in. His finger slid inside you easily, making you whine in your sleep as he pumped you slowly, trying not to wake you. His second finger slipped in just as easily, begging to stretch you out. The idea that he was inside you without your knowing was making his cock weep as he fisted himself, biting back moans as your gummy walls fluttered around his digits. He pulled them out carefully, sliding his fingers under his mask and whining as they entered his mouth, sucking your slick from his fingers and tasting your sweet arousal coating his tongue. He entirely removed his pants and shoes and slowly slid onto the bed, trying not to shift you as the mattress moved under his weight. He knelt between your legs, groaning to himself as he pressed his cock against the grove of your ass, shivering at the feel of your smooth panties against his hard shaft.

He slipped his cock under your panties, rubbing his cock between your folds, soaking his shaft with your arousal and feeling the head of his cock butting against your panties with each short thrust. You made soft moans in your sleep, your legs spreading a little further. He was sure you would wake up soon, so he took one final risk, pulling your panties to the side and lining himself up with your entrance. The thick tip of his cock slid in easily, and he made shallow thrusts as his hands came to rest either side of your waist, biting his lip hard enough to break skin as he struggled to not just push all the way in and fuck you silly. Slowly he slid further in, trying his best to keep his sounds muffled as your pussy sucked him in, but as his base met your ass he couldn't help himself, making a deep groan that was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Killer froze as you started to wake, your face nuzzling against the pillow as you laid it on its side, eyes fluttering open and blinking at him as you saw him hovering over you with the one eye that could see him.

“Kil?” You asked sleepily, not quite awake enough to register what was happening. Killer was balls deep in your cunt, and said nothing as he struggled to find an excuse for his actions. Your hips rolled on their own as your body registered your fullness, making a confused, breathy moan as you realised he was inside you. “K-Kil… fuck.”

You rolled your hips more purposely, fuck he felt so big inside you, filling you so well, and he whined under his mask as you started fucking yourself on his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” you groaned. You were just as pent up as he was, and his cock felt so fucking good inside you. You should have been mad, but Killer was fucking hot, and you felt unbelievably turned on that he'd taken advantage of you. “Fuck me, please.” you whined.

Killer didn't hesitate for a moment, pulling his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back in and knocking the air out of you. You clawed at the pillow as he grabbed your hips and made harsh, fast movements, grunting and cursing under his breath at each thrust, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Killer growled as he used your body, grabbing handfuls of your ass and using them as anchor points as he fucked you mercilessly. It didn't take long for his rough treatment to pull your coil tight, your orgasm bubbling over as your cunt squeezed him tight, soaking your panties and making him throw back his head and groan as he got close. He pulled out, pulling your panties back over his shaft and grinding against your cunt, and you felt the hot flood of fluid as he came against your pussy, making your panties sticky with it as he pulled away and snapped the fabric back into place. He collapsed against your back, his helmet nice and cold against your bare skin as he panted, his hands apologetically running up the sides of your torso and touching you tenderly.

“Sorry,” he said softly, stricken with guilt, “I didn't… I didn't mean to. You were just so fucking sexy I couldn't help it. Do you hate me?”

“Killer, baby,” you sighed, “if you wanted to fuck me, you should have just asked.”

“Huh?!” He startled, “you would have let me?”

“Absolutely, are you kidding me?” You laughed, “have you seen yourself? Use me like a fucking cocksleeve whenever you want. You're fucking lucky I'm into you though, or you'd be fucking dead right now.”

“Sorry…” he apologised again, “can I make it up to you?”

“You're doing my laundry for a year,” you huffed.

“DEAL!” Killer replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

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Taglist: @daydreamer-in-training @chairmanraph @florcxo @luvnisstuff @nocturnalrorobin @fanaticsnail

[reiderwriter]

NSFW Prompt Requests - I’m in dyer need of 127 or 150 if you’d be so kind?🥵

A/N: I feel like I say "I got a bit carried away" in every single one of these authors notes, but this one I think I really did...

Word Count: 3k

#127: "I can taste myself on you."

#150: "Stop clenching, baby, you're already tight enough as it is."

Summary: You're hot for teacher. So is every other girl on campus. Your Professor, however, is absolutely oblivious until you spell it out for him...

Warnings: Professor x Student, age gap, oral (M receiving), face-fucking, no birth control/ condoms, creampie, male whimpering and moaning mentioned a lot, PinV sex, both of them are Switches idc idc 18+ MINORS DNI

Check out my other stuff on my masterlist!

You had been in his class for around three weeks when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to keep up your GPA and progress in your grad programme, you were going to have to either drop the class with Professor Reid, or persuade him to put you out of your misery. 

You’d been intrigued by the course to start with, of course, which is why you’d picked up the criminology elective when it wasn’t a required class. But it was only available this semester as he was only Guest Lecturing while on leave from his job at the BAU, and getting that kind of insight from an actual industry professional rather than an academic really couldn’t hurt, right? You’d thought that until you’d seen him. 

Expecting some older man with a stuffy tone and a disdain for modern technology, you’d been roughly awoken when he walked into the lecture hall on the first day and you found yourself hanging on to his every word as he read through your syllabus. You were spot on with the technophobia, but for everything else, you were blissfully incorrect. He was, quite possibly, the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. You weren’t secretive about your thing for older men, joking all the time about your “daddy kink,” but you’d never had a thing for one of your actual professors before, and it was driving you insane. 

It didn’t help that the word had travelled around the entirety of your campus as well, with multiple girls turning up to audit the class after the first week. You’d been green with envy since you’d seen them mooning over the man, and you’d felt disgusted with yourself almost instantly. He was your professor, he was damn good at his job, but he was so deliciously tempting that you couldn’t find it within yourself to actually pay attention in his classes. You knew it was only a matter of time until the man, who you realised was obviously blind to how attractive he was to a bunch of twenty-somethings with a penchant for danger and a willingness to try all kinds of new things, would catch on to how many of his students were openly lusting for him.

You hoped that you had learned enough in his classes on behaviour that you could accurately hide your feelings and thoughts, however sinful and objectively obvious they were. Your hopes were crushed on that fateful day three weeks into the semester. 

You’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed already. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, your clothes were all still wet inside the washing machine in your apartment meaning you had to throw on a short skirt and pray you didn't flash anyone, and your roommate hadn’t closed the fridge properly the night before, so the milk you wanted to use in your morning coffee had spoilt. After dragging yourself into class, the last thing you’d wanted to see was twice as many students auditing the class as the previous week. 

To give it to the man’s obliviousness, he hadn’t noticed until about two thirds of the way into the class, when he asked a student why they weren’t taking notes.  He’d seemed confused. You were almost furious that he didn’t know what effect he was having on you, on every girl in the vicinity, but, more importantly, you. Unable to help yourself, you let out a scoff that gained his attention. 

“Is there something wrong with the class materials Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for you to supply your name to him. 

“Oh, no, uh, Y/N. My name is Y/N, there’s nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as you replied, but he went on with his class, as you sunk into your chair in shame. You were going to have to drop the class now. He must hate you, or think you were stupid, or think that you hated him, and your thoughts were spiralling so out of control that you hadn’t noticed the class had ended, and he was calling up at you from the lecturing desk. 

“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and his goddamned eyes were filled with such concern you hated that every part of your body was screaming with desire for him. Unable to respond, he tried again. 

“If you have the time, would you like to come talk to me in my office? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” You should’ve said no, just based on the ridiculous scenes filling your mind, but you didn’t hesitate to nod your approval. You picked up your bags and made your way down the steps to where he was waiting with all of his stuff near the front door. He opened the door for you, and you felt your heart race as you awkwardly slid by him in the doorway. He had to be a fucking gentleman, too, right? 

You followed him as he made his way to his office, staying silent the entire way. He looked like he wanted to make small talk but didn’t know how, choosing instead to just mirror your silence. When you reached his office, he apologised for the mess and showed you inside, letting you take a seat on the couch whilst he put all his things away. The room was littered with books of all sizes, and you noticed that the titles didn’t seem to have one common subject linking them all, or even, in fact, seem to be written in the same language. You spotted a beaten up copy of War and Peace on his desk next to an obviously used coffee mug, and some paper files that looked to be the reading from that morning’s class. 

“Sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on having guests, uh, make yourself comfortable?” He asked it as a question, and loosened his tie as he said it. You stared at the small patch of skin on his neck, your eyes lingering just a moment too long before you remembered you were in a room with an actual FBI Profiler, and that if your thoughts were any louder, he’d handcuff you himself. As tempting as that was, you really didn’t want your Professor knowing about all the ways you’d imagined him fucking you. 

“Professor Reid, I’m sorry, I have to leave, and- and I think I have to drop out of the class.” You stood up suddenly, and he stood up too from his place at his desk, shocked at your sudden anxious outburst. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, is there something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked taking a step closer to you, but you took a step back again, accidentally pressing your back against one of his many bookcases in your haste to avoid him. 

“Yes! I mean no, it’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable. I’m not uncomfortable, really!” He had the look of a kicked puppy on his face now, and you realised this man would be the death of you. You weren’t even sure what it was about him that entranced you enough to stay and continue the conversation.

“I can’t focus in your classes, Professor,” you sighed out, letting your eyes drop with the embarrassing confession. 

“That’s perfectly fine, many people struggle to pay attention in college classes. Is there anything I can do in my lectures to accommodate to your needs?” Your eyebrows screwed up in frustration with his obvious professional kindness. 

“No, Professor, I’m sorry, unless you stop looking like that there’s nothing you can do.” You ran a stressed hand through your hair as you begged your mouth to shut and stay shut. 

“...What?” The confused tone in his voice let you know that he had no clue at all what you meant by your words, but he didn’t go further. You chanced a glance up at his face, and were met with a small blush rising to his cheeks, as you watched the words process in his brain. 

“Professor, every single person in that class that is attracted to men would kill to do absolutely sinful things to you. You’re like the campus’s collective wet dream right now. You had to know that, right?” You sigh out, finally putting the man out of his misery.

“Oh. No. No, no, I didn’t. Know that, I mean, I didn’t…Is that why there are so many people auditing the class? They want to…. Do that with me?” 

“Fuck you, Professor. They want to fuck you. You can say it, we’re both adults.” You resigned yourself to the fact that this conversation was probably going to haunt every waking hour for the rest of your life, and just let it happen, pushing through the cringe to help him come to certain realisations. 

“And that’s why you want to drop the class?” he asked finally, looking back up at you. 

“Yes.” 

“Because you want to…fuck me?” 

Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you desperately tried to back track, but all that came out was hot air and blubbering sounds as you felt your brain short circuit like his had just moments before. 

“I mean… I guess,” you finally stuttered out, your fight or flight instinct begging you to just run, but something deeper, something carnal planting you in position and making movement in that moment impossible. 

“Oh…. right.” He nodded at you, his lips spread in a thin smile as he nodded at you awkwardly. You stood there together in silence for a minute, but it became clear soon that the logical part of your brain was no longer in control of your mouth. 

“Can I?” you asked, almost startled at your own boldness. 

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising higher in tone at the incredulity of your statement. 

“Can I fuck you? If I do, maybe I’ll be able to, you know, pay more attention in class. Get it out of my system, you know.” Growing emboldened by your own words, you took another hesitant step towards him, reaching your hand up to gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched at the contact, but he didn’t move away, didn’t suggest you stop right there and forget this conversation ever happened. 

“Please, Professor Reid. Please fuck me,” you trailed the hand up his arm and back down his chest as he stood there just watching you beg for him. You discarded your bag on the chair, and keeping your eyes focused on his, trailed both of your hands down to his belt, slowly enough that he could push you away at anytime. 

“Do you know what you’re doing, Miss Y/N?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, finally happy to get a reaction from him. The smile had dropped from his lips and there was something suddenly dark in his tone that had you clenching around nothing. 

“Yes, Professor,” you said, letting your hands start working on his belt, undoing it agonisingly slowly as you watched him control his breaths. When you finally had it undone, you finally looked up at him again, and gave him a smile as innocent as you could muster. 

“You have my permission,” he whispered into your ears as he gently put a hand on your head and pushed you down to your knees, perching himself on the edge of the desk. You wasted no time then, desperate to live out each and every single one of your fantasies with him. Reaching into his pants, you found him already hard and pulsing, and you released his cock from its confines quickly. Spitting into your hand, you gave him a few quick strokes as you watched him grow even bigger under your touch. 

Letting out some sinful breathy moans, you looked up at him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as you finally reached your tongue out to lick at the tip of his cock. He twitched at the contact, and you felt the warmth pooling between your legs as you watched his each and every reaction. Finally wrapping your lips around him, you decided to put him out of his misery, sinking down on his dick an inch at a time until he was hitting the back of your throat. He was delightfully vocal the whole time, moaning and whimpering so much that you almost pulled off him completely and begged him to fuck you raw. But the taste of his cock was intoxicating and you wanted more and more of him. After a few minutes of your agonisingly slow pace, you felt his hips beginning to buck up to match your pace as he began to face-fuck you. He grabbed a handful of hair, and you did your best to relax your throat, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his thigh and sinking deeper into your open hips on the floor. 

His eyes were still screwed close, but he was moaning out your name now, with a few expletives thrown in too, having done a complete 180 from the few minutes earlier when he’d hesitated to even say the F word in conversation. You felt he was getting close when he started thrusting deeper, sloppier in his movements and more breathy in his moans. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and lifted you to your feet, bringing you face to face with him. 

“We didn’t… we didn’t say where I would, um…” he tried to say but you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, your tongues quickly twinning as he returned it in kind. You stood there, lips locked and breathless in that space for quite some time, neither of you caring about the lack of oxygen you were getting. Finally, using the hand that was still fisted in your hair he pulled you away from his lips, and you whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact. 

“I can taste myself on you,” he panted into your neck as he held you close, the words sending a shiver down your spine and forcing another moan out of your mouth. The pain from his tight grip in your hair only heightened your pleasure as he moved his lips back to your exposed neck and continued his ministrations. 

“Please, professor….” you begged again, desperate for his attention. “Please fuck me.” 

Without removing his lips from your neck, he quickly moved the two of you back to the couch you’d been sitting on before, guiding you into his lap, his cock still hard and free from his pants. Your skirt spread open, and your hard landing meant you could feel all of him pressed against you. You thanked the gods for your suddenly well-timed laundry efforts as he grabbed the base of his cock and started teasing you through your panties. You were sure they were soaked through as you sat in his lap, grinding down on his perfect cock, his mouth still pressed into your neck. 

“Fuck me, please fuck me,” you moaned, and he complied, finally hooking a finger under the seam of your panties and moving them to the side as he pushed up into you with another throaty moan. 

“Yes, thank you. Thank you Professor, thank you.” You moaned out in bliss as you sank further and further down on him, pushing further than any man had been. before. 

“Stop clenching, baby, you’re already tight enough as it is,” he ground his teeth in a hiss, and you moaned at his words, the pervertedness of them shooting straight to your core. 

“Can’t…help myself. You feel so good, sir.” He started moving then, holding your waist as he started lazily thrusting upwards. After having your mouth wrapped around him, he knew that too much too soon would mean that this wouldn’t last long, and you had begged him nicely, so he wanted this to feel as good for you as it did for him. Gripping one of your hips tightly in one hand, he let the other fall under your skirt, and started pressing into your clit. You threw back your head at the contact and started riding him, matching each of his upward thrusts with a downward thrust of your own, letting his thumb gain speed as it followed you up and down. 

“Fuck, professor, thank you…I’m gonna cum, fuck, thank you so much,” you stuttered out as you could feel your orgasm rip through you, collapsing into his arms as he thrust quicker into you now. 

“Y/N, where… where should I….” His voice trailed off, and after a few seconds regaining your sanity after your climax, you finally answered the question he’d been desperately trying to answer.

“Inside… Inside me, Professor Reid, it’s okay…” he whimpered at that, at each thrust he pushed into you, his head falling to the crook in your neck and your hands stroking the hair at the base of his neck as you clenched around him again, finally pulling the desire out of him. He came noisily, even with his face buried in you, moaning so delightfully you knew the sound would be your new distraction for the next three weeks. 

When he finally regained his composure, he let his hands drop from your waist, his head rolled back on the couch, and you fell with him, wrapping yourself around him as if  you never wanted this coupling to end. You stayed there, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and drifted to sleep. 

You awoke an hour later, but there was no sign of the Professor. He’d cleaned you up somehow, because there was no unpleasant feeling between your legs, and he’d wrapped a blanket around you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable. Collecting your things and making to leave, you almost convinced yourself that it had all been another fantasy, and that you were becoming seriously delusional about the man. As you approached the door, however, you spotted a small note taped to the handle, and quickly pulled it into your hands. 

Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for visiting me today. I hope you decide to stay in the class, I certainly could learn a thing or two from you. 

- Spencer Reid. 

P.S. You’re lucky I’m an MIT Graduate with a job in the FBI. There’s a security camera in my office. 

[b3ach-bunn7]

THINGS TO DO

You have chores you need to get done. Touya and your daughter won’t leave you alone. 

noquirk!au, domestic, fluff

inspired by @moodyvoid :P

——————————————————————

“How are you doing that?”

You look up at Touya from where you’re cross-legged on the floor. He’s only wearing black boxers and his robe, your daughter’s pudgy legs around his neck as she fiddles with his hair. Mizuki’s not reached the age that she can talk yet, but Touya assures you the gurgles she makes is actually conversation. You’ve walked in on him enough times, bent over her crib conversing with her, that you have no choice but to believe it. She grabs a handful of his hair and tugs. He winces, hand reaching up to untangle it from her grasp.

“Doing what?”

You’re currently sitting in front of the dryer while Touya leans on the washing machine. You’ve put off the laundry far too long, and the pile of clothes in front of you is a testament to that. The washing machine shakes beneath Touya and you curse the second load you’ll have to deal with later. 

“The folding thing. Takes me ten minutes to do that shit and it never comes out looking like that.” 

“Practise. And patience you don’t have.” 

Touya scoffs. “I so have patience.” 

You laugh at that. “You so don’t! Don’t you remember when you tried to make cookies last week? You ended up eating them raw because you couldn't wait for them to chill in the fridge.”

Touya rolls his eyes and kicks the shirt in your hand away with his foot. You tut, smacking it out your way.

“That’s different. I was hungry.”

“Fatty.”

“Hey! Not in front of Zuki.” He leans his head forward so he can reach up to grab her. He plops down on the floor in front of you and places her in his lap.

“Okay. Time to learn how to do laundry.”

You snort a laugh. “She can’t even talk, babe. How’s she gonna fold laundry?”

“No time like the present.” 

She giggles as Touya places the pile of socks you’d been leaving until last in her lap. Her hands grab random pairs and Touya nods.

“That’s my girl. Look, this one and this one. Roll it like this.” He demonstrates with one hand, the other holding onto her waist so she doesn’t fall.

“Wow. She’s really getting it.” You drawl. Touya throws a sock at your head.

“None of that talk. Only encouragement. Just think about it, if we train her from now she’ll grow up to be a machine.” 

You sigh heavily, moving another stack of folded shirts away to make some more room. “You really want our daughter to be a machine when she’s older?”

Touya ponders it for a moment. You watch as Zuki sticks her fist in her mouth. “Maybe not. I’m not seeing much potential.” 

You lean forward, moving her fist away from her face. 

“Open, baby.” You say, quickly checking around her gums. “You think she’ll start teething soon? She’s that age, no?” 

Touya hums. “I don’t know. She has been biting stuff more often though.” He drops his hand into her lap and she grabs his finger, sticking it into her mouth.

Your finger is covered in spit and you wince. “Ew.” You wipe your finger on Touya's leg. “Baby drool.” 

“Ugh, don’t rub it on me.” 

“Your finger’s literally inside her mouth.” 

“That’s different.” 

Touya watches you fold the next pile of clothes, and then the next. It finishes quicker with him there, telling you about work, you telling him about Mitzuki. He gives you his hand so you can get up and you groan, placing them into the laundry baskets so you can put it all away. You feel yourself ageing despite the fact you’re both young, and you huff, annoyedz

“I hate being an adult. Let’s hire a maid.” You grumble. You stretch, wincing at the crack your back makes.

“No.”

“Yeah, well I’m the one that has to do all the chores all not you, so I should decide.”

Touya gapes. “Fuck off with that. I offered to help you, you said no!”

You turn your back on him and walk out the laundry rooms basket on your hip. “Shut up.”

It’s true, in all honesty. You feel too bad to make Touya do any chores. You still have a couple weeks left of maternity leave, and while you’d been at home caring for the baby,  he’d been picking up extra shifts. You see the exhaustion that grips at his bones, the bags under his eyes. He insists on helping around the house whenever he’s home, but you refuse to let him do it. You’d rather he spent time with his daughter, relaxed a little. Touya, however, takes the ‘no help’ rule to mean ‘follow me around the house like a lost puppy’ instead. He does so now, Mizuki back around his shoulders. He hums a song you don’t recognise under his breath, fingers tapping against her legs. They follow you to each of your bedrooms, watching as you fill drawers with socks and shirts and incredibly small onesies. You kick one of Mizuki’s toys out your way. 

“You think she’ll start talking properly soon?” You ask suddenly, looking at Mizuki as she babbles.

Touya shrugs. “Beats me. When are kids even meant to start talking?”

“I don’t know.” You bite your lip anxiously, discarding the now empty laundry basket to the corner of the room. You walk over to Touya and grab Mizuki, holding her at arms length.

“You don’t think shes behind, do you? Like- Should she be talking? Or walking? She can’t even stand up without our help, and-”

“Baby.” 

Touya grabs Mizuki.

“Chill. It’ll be fine. Shoto didn’t start talking until he was like, four.” He says, scruffing up your hair with one hand. You huff, reaching up and holding his hand in ur own. You rest your face on it, eyes shutting as his finger soothes against your cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Don’t worry, baby. You’re the best mum around.”

You roll your eyes. You tap Mitzuki on the nose.

“I don’t think she agrees. She’s so obsessed with you.” You grumble.

Touya grins lifting her up so he can kiss her on the forehead. “Daddy’s girl.” 

You sigh dramatically. “I used to be Daddy’s girl.” 

“Ew, that’s fucking weird.” Touya frowns as you giggle, reaching up to kiss him quickly. 

The three of you move to the kitchen, and you stand in the middle, hands on your hips. Touya places Mitzuki in the middle of the counter and mimics your stance. “Okay. I’m gonna make dinner. What are we feeling?”

His arms drop. “Uh. Food?”

“Ha ha. So funny.”

Touya sticks his tongue out at you. “Zuki thinks I’m funny. Right, sweetheart?” He tickles under her chin and she giggle. He looks back up at you, eyes shining. “See.” 

God, he’s so cute when he’s with her. Touya had been quite monotone when you met him. Never emotionless, but he never really seemed to care about much. You started dating and he opened up much more to you, and by the time you two were married, he was an open book. You knew everything there was to know about him. But this, the way he seems to light up whenever he’s with Mitzuki. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before, a part of him you knew existed. You’re sure that Touya was always meant to be a dad, had to be with his good he was with her. 

And you knew he was scared. He’d whispered to you in the nights you were trying, warned you what his father was like. That he was scared that he would be like that. And you whispered back that you knew he never would, that Touya would be the best father to whoever the two of you ended up with. That night had ended very well.

You smile softly. “At least somebody does.”

You shuffle over to the fridge, eyes scanning over the leftovers and ingredients begging to be used. You huff. “God, I’m going to have to cook, aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to. We can get takeaway.” Touya grins.

“No. We have to be responsible adults.” You speak over Touya’s incessant booing.

“Come on. I want pizza.” 

“I want to use up all the food in our fridge.” 

“You’re so boring.”

“One of us has to be. Now go, get out so I can cook.” 

Touyas eyebrows furrow. “Uhm, why? I’ll be lonely.”

You start pulling out pans from the cupboards and vegetables from the fridge. “We’ve literally been together all day.”

“I’m your husband. You have to let me annoy you.”

“Go sit and watch TV, or something. Football. Isn’t that what men do?” 

He groans again, reaching over to grab at your waist, dropping down to his knees. “Why. Why won’t my wife let me love her.” 

You run a hand through his hair. “I do let you love me. You’re roots are coming in, by the way.” You tug his hair a little bit and he makes a sound deep in his chest.

“Mhm, just like that, baby.”

“Touya. You’re such a freak.”

“For you, yeah.” He looks to the side, squinting at his reflection in the mirror.

“Are they really coming in? Will you dye them for me?” 

You nod. “I always do, don’t I?”

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Now get up and out. You’ve abandoned our daughter on the kitchen counter.”

Touya mumbles something under his breath, sighing heavily as he gets up to his feet. “Come on, Zuki. We’re not wanted here.”

You click the kettle on. “You need to rest, you’ve been working so much. No point standing in here with- Touya!”

“What?”

“Don’t hold our child like that!”

Touya’s head tilits. He has the nerve to act casual as if he hasn’t got your daughter under one arm like she’s a fucking football. 

“What?”

“Hold her properly!”

“Why? She loves it.” He turns to the side and she peeks her head round to grin at you, hands grabbing at the air.

You smile despite yourself, shooing them both away. “Get out before you give me a heart attack.” 

You decide on making soba, something quick and easy you know you both like. You utilise the veg in your fridge you’re sure is going bad soon, dumping the expired leftovers in the trash. You come out the kitchen half an hour later. Touya’s feet are propped up on the coffee table, some old Disney movie playing on the TV. Mitzuki is laying across his chest, his hand rubbing up and down her back slowly.

“Is she asleep?” You ask, sitting down on the couch next to him.

He hums quietly. “Nearly. Is it okay if she naps right now?”

You nod. You shuffle down on the couch, until your legs hang off the edge and your head rests on Touya’s shoulder. You wrap you arm around his.

“Yeah. She’ll be more of a hassle if we wake her up, anyway.” Touya huffs a laugh. 

“Why are you watching Tangled?” You mumble.

“It’s a good movie.” 

“Weirdo.”

“Shut up.” 

“I made soba, by the way. We can eat whenever.” 

“Fuck yeah.” Touya kisses the top of your head. “Thanks, baby.”

“I’m so happy your favourite meal is like, the easiest thing to make.” 

“I’m easy to please.”

You reach a hand forward and touch the hairs on Mitzuki’s head. They were the same colour as yours. You think that might be the only thing she took from you, because when she blinks at you lazily, you could recognise those bright blue eyes anywhere, the tilt of her nose. 

“She’s so beautiful.” You murmur.

“Takes after her mother.”

You sigh. “No. You’re a liar. She looks exactly like you.”

You don’t need to see him to know Touya’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “You think?”

“Shut up. It’s not fair. I lugged her around for nine months, she should take after me a little.”

Touya runs a hand up and down your back. “Don’t worry, baby. The next one will look like you.”

You sit up, eyeing Touya. “Next one?”

Touya kisses the tip of your nose. “I want three minimum. How do you feel about that?”

“I feel like I agree. But let’s chill out, it’s not even been a year yet.” 

“Fine. I guess.”

“You guess. Shut it and turn the TV up.”

“You hear that Mitzuki? Hear how your mother speaks to me?”

“She’s asleep and also she’s a baby.”

Touya shakes his head. “You don’t get us.” 

——————————————————————

domestic Touya I yearn for you like a wife who’s husbands been at war and my only memory is your photo in my purse 😔

me personally the Todoroki family lore is the saddest like it actually makes me wanna cry and sob.. so I will only ever write them happy idgaf

a knee ways I hope u enjoyed :P this is shorter than what I normally write but I just had to write it.. also not me being so consistent

[katsukiizmoon]

bodyguard or bestfriend! katsuki who practically lives in your personal space, he's only "looking out for you" and "making sure you're okay" he definitely isn't dependent on feeling your warmth against him, he definitely doesn't get antsy when you're not near him, not at all

Second time writing this, tumblr ate it the first time 🥴 but no because I bet he leaves his shit there and then forgets.i have so many thoughts on this

Katsuki has practically raided every square inch of his apartment. He’s checked every basket, drawer, nook and cranny of the place— and he’s found four pair of boxers. Total.

There’s no way.

A frustrated groan leaves his lips when he notices missing sweatpants. His face twists into a scowl while he shoves the last of his dirty laundry into the washing machine. He snatches the detergent and tosses it in, pressing the button and turning on his heel.

He storms out of his apartment and shoves his keys into the door, locking it. And you know something’s off the moment he arrives. He huffs and puffs like he’s going to blow your house down. All the while, you sit perched on the couch with a basket of laundry and a no-brain-needed show on.

“I’m goin’ fucking insane.” Katsuki grits, carmine eyes peering into your ceiling.

You hum and toss a pair of panties into a nearby basket. A sigh leaves him as his chest sinks beneath the black tank top.

“You always are— but why now?” You raise a brow at his glare, resisting a snicker.

Your fingers lay purchase on a pair of his sweats. Effortlessly, you begin to fold and separate the rest of the laundry. Another pair of his sweats are in your hands as you pause to look at him.

“Searched the damn place top to bottom,” a sigh “- can’t find my shit. Got four pair of boxers. I’m losing it.” He grunts with an exasperated groan.

Katsuki peels his gaze from the ceiling to meet your own. You begin to chortle and snort.

The pair of sweatpants in your hands meet his face with a dull thud. Without thinking, katsuki yanks the offending fabric away and growls.

“Oí, asswipe-“ The second pair meets his face before he can finish and it takes all of three seconds for it to register.

“.. why d’you got my shit?” He takes a deep breath, just like his therapist told him to, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“You always leave your shit here— I’ve got an entire drawer. You’ve even got a toothbrush and face razor in my bathroom.” You challenge, holding up a pair of boxers you’ve just found in the basket.

Katsuki blinks. He has been over a lot. But it’s only because you can’t take care of yourself— you’d die! The blonde runs through memories of cup ramen and expired snacks in your fridge and pantry. His eyes roll.

“Well, I need my shit, brat.” He chooses to say instead.

You glance at the TV to see two of the girls arguing over what food to have at a party. Typical, there’s always that one bitch who wants fruit at a candy land themed party.

“Go for it, it’ll end up back here anyways-“ you chortle and toss a pair of clean boxers his way “-you’re over five days a week.”

Ruby orbs narrow, brows furrowing as he takes playful offense to your statement. A grin plasters across his face and he leans in.

“Wouldn’t have to if a certain shithead could take care of herself, now would i?” Katsuki taunts and assumes victory. He looks proud of himself.

Your brows shoot to your hairline and you laugh wildly. The task at hand half forgotten, fingers reaching into the basket to grab a random article of clothing and throw it at his head.

“Oh please, you come here for back rubs and head scratches.” The teasing tone of your voice has his eyes rolling. Hard.

Katsuki looks down at the fallen fabric and snorts. Big hands put the pink, scallop trim panties in the basket to your right while he formulates a good answer.

You’re not completely wrong.. but you can’t know that.

“Nah I c’mere cause’ you’ll get a scurvy if I don’t.” He lies, grabbing a towel to fold.

Banter continues on and off through the night. He talks shit on the show you’re watching but gets invested anyways. Like always. A plate of steaming curry is served for dinner and afterwards you show him to the stash of his items stored away in your bedroom.

He grumbles and flushes a peachy tone, throwing most of the items in his bag. He leaves two or three pairs, though.

You get lectured again on groceries even though he’s the one that cooks. And, now? There’s a grocery list on your fridge that says “k: bringing order on Monday” in not too-pretty handwriting.

Katsuki finds himself basking in the warmth of your hands later. Pretty fingers rub his taut muscles and tug at the roots of his hair. Nails drag up and down, up and down his shoulder and back casually. He’s out like a light in minutes.

He wakes up and chooses to ignore that he’s already left another set of clothing in your laundry basket.

[realcube]

ASKING THEM TO CHOOSE A BATHING SUIT FOR YOU

characters ♡ (all aged up) midoriya, todoroki, kirishima & kaminari

request for ♡ anon

tws ♡ implied sexual content - minors dni!

IZUKU MIDORIYA

♡ so flustered by the request

♡ no matter the circumstances

♡ like y'all could be going out for a couple weeks or you could be married for ten years with children, homie still doesn't know how to act

♡ and he is so apprehensive to ask why you want him to pick it out for you because on one hand he's curious about the implications and wants to explore that further but the LAST thing he wants is too ask too many questions for you to then turn around and be like "you know what, nevermind. i'll just buy it myself."

♡ so he will try to get information out of you covertly

♡ "well i think you'd look great in anything.. maybe something floral. unless you are dressing for a specfic occasion?????? 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "you know i like the red one you have. you should wear that if i get to see you in it 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ "oh you like the orange one? ... orange like the colours of pro hero dynamight ? 🤨🤨🤨🤨"

♡ he somehow manages to spiral and come to the conclusion you are having an affair

♡ but then he remembers he's with the most faithful partner in the world and moves on

♡ he also so believes that this is like.. a relationship milestone

♡ like "omg we are dressing each other now ow 🤪"

♡ if it turns out y'all are going to the beach or pool or something he will ask you to choose his bathing suit too

♡ but yeah he just thinks its so sweet you let him choose what you wear and he gets a strange (temporary) power trip from it

♡ whenever you get changed next he'll silently be praying you let him pick your outfit for you

♡ the power trip doesn't last long though because when he actually has to pick the outfit he is lowkey kinda nervous especially if you are gonna wear it out in public

♡ he is so afraid of making the 'wrong' choice

♡ like he doesn't want to be held responsible if you go out in a ugly fit and people give you funny looks

♡ overthinks asf

♡ it takes him like 10 minutes of pinterest surfing and coordinating to decide and eventually he goes with the same bathing suit you wear almost every time

♡ if you guys are staying indoors though, he is too respectful to say it aloud so he simply blabbers on for ages in hopes you get the hint

♡ "uh well i mean me personally i just don't see the point of going to all the effort to put on a whole new bathing suit after taking your clothes off if it's just going to get wet anyway i mean it's just a waste of washing machine power, pro hero wash doesn't risk his life everyday for people to just throw things in the laundry when they don't need to , right —"

♡ there's more

♡ like he goes on for ages but you pick up what he trying to say after two sentences

♡ and you give the man what he wants 🤷‍♀️

SHOTO TODOROKI

♡ so confused

♡ like he is genuinely baffled; he just doesn't understand why you would want him to choose for you and why, out of all the outfits you wear, it's your swimwear you want him to pick

♡ he is going to ask a million questions before he even tries and i wear he's not doing it to be difficult or defiant , he is just so incredibly curious and WANTS to know what thought process led you to entrusting him with your ootd

♡ you explain that it's just a cute thing you wanted to try, so you could see what colours and designs he prefers on you

♡ he still doesn't fully get it because he's made it inexplicably clear by now that he loves the way you look in virtually anything — you could have rolled up to your wedding in crocs and he would've still been completely enamoured. in fact he'd fall for you even harder for making practical footwear choices.

♡ (not that he's a fan of holes in shoes , he thinks it defeats the purpose. but he'd find something positive about them if you were to wear them)

♡ but after being with you for so long and being a pro hero in an evolving society , he has learned to be open-minded and entertains your idea

♡ he is naturally quite stylish , so it likely goes into your wardrobe and picks something very understated and minimalistic

♡ anything you own that happens to all be one colour; a boring colour too like beige, grey or off-white

♡ even if it happens to be a skimpy piece he truly pays no mind to it, he's more focussed on the design and colour (or lack thereof)

♡ so likely he'll end up handing you a two-piece that is essentially just two pieces of thread on a hanger , and of course you will think there are implications behind that and start eyeing him 👀

♡ but having been married to him for x years, you recognise the blank expression he wears when there is not a thought in his head and you quickly realise that he wasn't suggesting anything by handing you such a provocative outfit

♡ he just likes the colour and fabric lol

♡ "it will really bring out your eyes"

♡ (doesn't know what that means; heard someone say it on tv once and now it's his go-to fashion compliment) (what he really means is "fashion fashion style bags purse clothes purse")

♡ it's only when you actually put it on and show him when he realises what he has done lmao

♡ standing there and staring at you like 🙂 "cute. where's the rest of it?"

♡ it looked a lot bigger when he was holding it and he didn't take into consideration how it stretches

♡ tries to subtly get you to change without admitting its revealing

♡ "very pretty. but i heard jean shorts are in season, why not try those?"

♡ "oh— is that a loose thread? hmph. i think you'll have to throw bathing suit away since it's ruined."

♡ "it's nice but i doesn't bring out your eyes like i originally thought. more so your chin."

♡ tbh he does not want to even admit to himself he has a problem with you wearing revealing clothes because there is no rational reason as to why he should have an issue with it but he just does and it hurts his brain

♡ even if other guys are checking you out that shouldn't matter bc he knows you're loyal and would never cheat so WHY does the thought make him want to freeze an entire city ???

♡ anyway you can tell just by looking at him that he's conflicted and fighting internal battles so you put him out of his misery by just changing into a different one

♡ (after that chin comment tho , he did NOT deserve your compassion 😞)

♡ once he has successfully styled you into a cute outfit he feels so proud of himself lk??

♡ also he still has a hard time understanding why you wanted him to pick your bathing suit 'just because' so in his head he rationalises that dressing each other is just something all long-term couples do and you guys have reached a relationship milestone

♡ similar to izuku except todoroki takes it WAY more seriously

♡ like randomly when he is getting ready, he'll ask you to pick the tie he is going to wear or even his shirt

♡ and if he is getting ready in the morning and you're not awake yet , he will literally make you help him plan his outfit the night before

♡ even for super formal pro hero related events where he is likely being styled by professionals, he will ask you to choose his cufflinks or belt or something like that

♡ just so he has a piece of you on him at all times ( besides his wedding band ofc 🤪)

♡ and yeah this isn't a temporary thing either. unless you ask him to stop, he will be asking you for your input on his clothing for the forseeable future

♡ he'll even start asking other people ( who he knows are married ) stuff like "what did your wife choose on your outfit?" or "oh nice watch, did your husband pick it out for you?" and he gets weird looks every time

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

♡ he's probably the most normal about it

♡ like he doesn't see it as any sort of test so he isn't nervous or confused

♡ and he is able to aknowledge that it is only an outfit for one day so even if it isn't his best work, at least he tried ??

♡ but yeah he thinks it's sooo cute that you want him to pick your bath suit , makes him feel like he's putting his own mark on you (in a wholesome way) and he finally gets to dress you in his favourite colour

♡ RED!!!

♡ if you don't have any red swimwear he will fr go out and buy you some because that is all he wants to see you in lol and he would LOVE to match with you

♡ red bikini + red truncks combo question mark

♡ if you don't own any red or you don't want to match with him , he'll probably choose a top and bottom from two different sets and pair them together and think he is some sort of style icon for pairing neon pink and sage green but in reality it such a crime against fashion

♡ but you wear it anyway just to see the big dumb smile of his face when you walk out wearing his "creation"

♡ oh and be warned that after you let him style you once he is going to be obsessed with giving his input on your outfits for at least the next six months or until you tell him to stop

♡ it'll be like "kiri, i'm gonna wear this white blouse to the dinner tomororw. does it look better with these black trousers or this brown skirt?"

♡ you'll show him the two options and he'll STILL reply, "hm, have you considered jorts ?"

DENKI KAMINARI

♡ wants to be nonchalant about it sooo bad but is internally screaming dancing and doing backflips

♡ like he is THIS close to blowing a fuse when you ask him

♡ and like you've been married to him for this long so you knew it would drive him crazy and that is exactly what you wanted mwahaha

♡ yeah he tries to play this off casually like a cool , reserved guy who couldn't care less

♡ but we both know that is NOT who he is , in fact that is the furtherest thing away from what he is in this moment

♡ "i- i get to choose?" he stammers, pointing at himself before he clears his throat. plastering a confident grin on his face, "yeah, duh. i'm your husband of course i'm going to choose what bathing suit you wear."

♡ pro hero chargebolt recently saved a politican from a very life threatening fajita incident so naturally your household has come into a lot of money and thus had a pool built in your back garden so he assumed you wanted to take it for a test run

♡ you've both been so busy with work that the pool has been finished for over a week and neither of you have tried it out yet

♡ so he saunters over to the warbrode and shoves his arm in and rummages around

♡ less like he is sifting through clothes; more like he is pulling out a prize from that mystery bag filled with random treasures at the carnival

♡ after a couple seconds of searching, his face lights up as though he has found the perfect outfit for you

♡ he pulls out his arm; lo and behold he has his hand in the air with his fist wrapped around... nothing

♡ literally nothing

♡ he still looks at the air where a bathing suit SHOULD be with wide eyes and an impossible grin, "this would look great on you !! you've not worn it in so long. try it on!!"

♡ he throws it towards you and of course you 'catch it' despite there being nothing there because you are plenty familiar with his antics and have learned by now exactly how to deal with them

♡ you 'hold it' in your hands and nod along, "yes! i forgot about this old thing. i'll go put it on right now." you muse, walking out and towards the bathroom, "i'm sure the dads at the beach will love this one."

♡ denki nods confidently, chuffed with how awesome and fly he is .. until he caught that last part

♡ "(Y/N) WAIT !!!"

[synthetickitsune]

Minghao (SVT) | Washing your hoodie comfort | 0.6k | gn!reader

Minghao’s wearing the fond smile that’s reserved only for the people closest to him. Mostly you. You know it without looking at him. And you won’t look at him, even though that smile is a sight you’ll never tire of. It’s a masterpiece honestly, the epitome of love you think. Yet you don’t turn his way, not even when you feel his finger poking at your cheek softly.

“I already apologized,” he whispers, his voice dripping in that damn smile, in that adoration of his that only ever belonged to you, “Even though there was nothing to apologize for.”

He’s right - logically you know it. But you’re feeling irrational and emotional. Not really upset, but you think if you were a different kind of person, you might’ve been. Anyway, it’s not about whether he apologized or not. 

“I really wanted to wear that hoodie, Hao,” you grumble quietly, curling further into yourself. His hand cups your knee. By now you think his lips will be gently curled into an amused smile. He moves closer and you don’t put the distance back between you. “It’s really comfy.”

“I know, darling,” he acknowledges, “But you already wore it so much this week that it needed washing.”

He’s right of course, you know it. Honestly it’s a little embarrassing that you didn’t immediately add it to the laundry and that he had to be the one to throw it into the washing machine just before you shut the door. He started the cycle before you could protest. Hence why you’re sulking like a child who had their blanket taken away.

“Still… Just once more…” you murmur, trailing off. There’s really nothing more to say. 

“That’s never how it goes.” He says it kindly, without judgment. And again, you know he’s right. He knows you too well for your and his own good. “Are you really upset?”

You think about it. You know you’re not, and you think he knows it too. Even if you were, him genuinely checking on you would probably make you not be anymore. So you shake your head. He hums, fond, loving. Minghao told you once before that he likes the quiet and simple life with you. That he likes he doesn’t have to worry about you being upset with him for every small thing. Not that you believe that would be possible with a man like him. And that he likes the small quiet bickering that sometimes occurs, as if just to add a little spice to the relationship - a neat sprinkle of cinnamon on a whipped cream on top of your favorite hot chocolate.

You haven’t noticed how close he moved, haven’t noticed when his arms enveloped you and pulled you into his body, but here you are now. Still curled into a ball, but now Hao’s curled around you too, your calves bent over his thighs, your ear right above his soothing heartbeat. It makes you think. It’s always so calm. Whenever you’ve listened to his heartbeat, it was so even, so steady. There are times when it races under your fingertips, his chest as sweaty as your palm, but those are not times when his heartbeat is on your mind.

“Better?” he asks, softly, like he doesn’t want to startle you awake from whatever daydream you drifted off to.

You nod with a small noise. You nuzzle closer. He smells like the fresh laundry he hung just before you put in the next load and your subsequent sulking session. You hide from him further. His lips press against the top of your head before he rests his chin there. He envelops you so completely you can easily imagine this is all there is to the world - just his warmth, his nice scent, and the safety he provides. Comfort personified.

[samkerrworshipper]

i will wait for you | leah williamson x reader & barcelona team x reader

INCOMPLETE SPOILER !!!!!!!

i’m so sorry i’ve been inactive this weekend i’ve been trying my v harfest to catch up on my course work ☠️

haven’t written anything or even had a chance to look at my reqs so thought i’d bless y’all with a little draft that i can’t even manage to complete so enjoy a little spoiler of a req that i got x

it’s just pure pain, angst and probably going to end in smut but we’ll see 👀

You knew that this time when you went down it was different. All you’d been doing was sprinting up the sideline, your eyes focused solely on Alexia as she shot the ball a few feet in front of you. It was a good pass, a good line that had you heading straight for goal, hopefully it would secure your first in the Champions League final against Wolfsburg. It took a mere split second before you collapsed on the ground in complete agony. The umpire's whistle had blown almost immediately, your teammates huddling around you to give you some privacy whilst the medic made their way over to you, everyone trying to figure out what had happened. You were writhing against the pitch, screaming in pain that no one knew the source of. All you could do was sob and reach for your ankle as the medics tried their hardest to assess you and get you loaded onto a stretcher.

You were in unfathomable pain, resulting in the team's medics making the executive decision to pump you full of pain meds before they wheeled you off to the x-ray machines. You were a sobbing mess, the realisation kicking in that you were in so much pain and the realisation that your Champions League dream was over.

The x-rays confirmed your suspicions and you watched from the medical room as your team secured three goals against your opponents and when the whistle finally blew, they all became Champions. You watched as they all fell to their knees on the pitch, they were back to back champions, you were bedridden.

Instead of being out partying with the rest of the girls, you were put on the first flight back to Barcelona, you were in Bilbao, so they loaded you directly onto a medical helicopter and flew straight back to Barcelona. You passed out on the ride their, with the mix of disappointment and drugs mixing in your system to send you into a discomforting slumber.

When you woke up you were in a hospital in Barcelona. A series of doctors outlining to you the severity of your injury and what the coming weeks looked like for you. You tried your hardest to listen to their drawl, but it all went in one ear and came out the other. After they were done you insisted on being discharged, even with their warning words about the fact that it would be best if you stayed for another day or so, just before someone returned to take you back to your apartment and look after you whilst you were on such intense pain meds. You ignored their pleas, insisting that you go home by yourself, you didn’t want nor need their pity.

You got yourself home, in an uber, high off of the pain meds that were the only thing keeping you on your feet. You’d never liked crutches, found them extremely awkward and hard to use. You’d never believed that statement more than right now, as you attempted to crutch your way up the stairs of your apartment so you could make it to your bed. You were woozy on your feet, the drugs you were on making you sway as you tried your very hardest to focus on the step in front of you.

It took everything you had to make it to your bed, the pain, the tears, the pure need you had in your soul to just do it by yourself. You’d never felt more alone in your life, your team was too busy celebrating, your family was too busy doing other things to even think about you. By the time you made it to your bed you were completely spent, throwing yourself down into the sheets and falling into a deep sleep.

You awoke a horrific amount of times during the night, trembles of pain washing across your body directly from your ankle. It was gut wrenching pain, but you’d left your pain meds downstairs and you hardly trusted yourself on crutches during the day, let alone in the middle of the night. So you stayed in your bed, writhing in pain all throughout the night, willing for the sun to arise so you could finally get access to the medication you need so heavily. You knew there were people you could call, even if your teammates were in a different part of Spain. You knew that they would do anything to make you feel better, but you just couldn’t manage it, the guilt of taking away from their win was too much for you to bear.

When the sun finally did rise you tried your hardest to push yourself out of your bed and onto your crutches, but your legs felt like jelly. So instead of doing the rash thing and calling somebody, you pushed yourself down onto the floorboards of your room and started the gruelling process of pushing yourself against the floorboards and towards your stairs.

If crutches managed to hurt your ankle, then scooting yourself against the floors of your house was gruelling, a true struggle. Getting down your stairs was a nightmare, every single bump or nudge against the boot your ankle had been secured in was agony. The clunky thing was no help, it weighed down your ankle and made it a far bigger target for lodging itself on the edge of a stair.

Eventually, with tears flowing freely down your face you made it down the stairs and scooted yourself into the kitchen of your house, where you’d left the medications given to you by your doctors the day before. You reached up to your kitchen bench, clawing whatever you could reach for off of the ledge and brushing them down onto the floor beside you. It took all of your energy to get the medications down on the floor next to you, so you were relieved when you saw that you’d managed to scoop up the oxycodone pills from above you, which you knew would be enough to dull some of the pain you were feeling. You dry swallowed three pills, popping them into your mouth and forcing them down.

You looked across at the staircase in your apartment, your eyes were slowly becoming hooded and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it back up the stairs, plus your apartment floor wasn’t that uncomfy right now?

You couldn’t help but slump against your kitchen bench, sleep and pain overwhelming you as you passed out on the floor of your kitchen.

“Y/n/n, babygirl, wake up for me.”

It was the feeling of a hand shaking against your face that brought you back to the world. In your drug induced haze it took a few seconds for your eyes to focus on the person responsible for your awakening.

“Ale, what are you doing here?”

You pushed her hand away from you, feeling a little bit vulnerable in your current position as she looked down at you from her position standing above you. Alexia was frowning down at you, and just as you’d finished taking her in you began to realise a lot of your team was piled into your apartment, you couldn’t make out everyone though.

“Bebita, we haven’t heard from you since the game, we’ve all been worried sick, you haven’t been answering anybody’s calls or texts.”

I tried my best to work up whatever courage and dignity I had, which was hard considering I was dressed in an oversized Barcelona champions shirt and whatever shorts the hospital must have been able to find to put me in.

“I’m fine, you can all leave, go back to celebrating.”

They all looked some form of hungover, they should be out partying, celebrating the win, instead they’d congregated in your house, which was honestly making you feel so much worse.

“I won’t have that tone pequeño, you clearly aren’t fine, if you were you wouldn’t be passed out on your kitchen floor after ghosting everybody for the last two days. I know you are in pain, but that does not warrant you pushing everybody out.”

Alexia’s voice was harsh, the voice she reserved for when she was making orders on the pitch, a voice that would normally have you quivering under her, but the mixture of the pain and embarrassment you were feeling was enough fuel for your drugged up state to use.

“Joder! I’m fine, go party, go celebrate, Estoy Bien, Déjame en paz.”

Your tone wouldn’t go over well, you knew that but the confidence from your statement was apparently fuel for you to stand yourself up from the ground on your own. You felt the shooting pain going up your leg almost immediately, as you struggled to balance with only one functioning foot. Alexia knitted her brows together, clenching her jaw as you watched her try to keep her composure, you never pushed a hungover Alexia, it never had a good result.

“I understand that you are in pain and that you don’t want to acknowledge. You need help though, and we have all come to give it, so please just let us.”

I looked at Alexia, she was standing a foot away from me, pure anguish and concern on her face.

“I’m fine, leave me alone, I know you all have celebrations to get back to, so please, go.”

I took a step on my injured foot, a big mistake that had me groaning in pain and Alexia’s arms coming up to my sides to stop me from going any further.

“Bebita, you are a part of that winning team, you deserve to be out celebrating with us, you clearly aren’t fine and we are all here to support you through that, however you need.”

You shook Alexia off of you, trying your very hardest to balance on a foot that wasn’t working,

“Vete a la mierda. Leave, get out of my house.”

You were getting annoyed and aggressive fast and quickly, something that your teammates seemed to pick up on.

“Leahhas called me, probably a 100 times, she’s worried sick about you, you can’t push everybody out forever, just because you are injured does not make you unlovable.”

Alexia’s words echoed against the walls of my house, her voice having risen to meet mine.

“Get out of my house, right now, before I call the police.”

Alexia exhaled deeply, she shooed the rest of the women that had piled themselves into my house out, leaving just you and her. You leant back against your kitchen bench, needing the assistance to keep you on your two feet, the pressure on your ankle becoming too much for you to be able to handle.

“You need help, I don’t care whether or not you know it but you do, we found you passed out on your kitchen floor and if that isn’t a big enough indicator then I don’t know what is. You can push us all out till the cows come home but it’s not achieving anything. You're going to let me take you up the stairs and back to bed, I’ll set you up with your meds and ice packs, I don’t care how much you hate it but I am going to be here for you whether or not you want me to be here.”

You glared at Alexia, your jaw set as a stone as the older women that had quickly become your adoptive older sister at Barca looked at you pointedly. There was no room for argument in her voice, like a drill sergeant.

Alexia walked towards you, taking you in her arms and letting your silent tears drip onto her shirt as she lifted you up, removing the pressure from your foot and carrying you up your stairs and to your bedroom. You cried silently into her, annoyed by the loss of your dignity so openly in front of your teammates. She helped to tuck you into your bed, elevating your ankle onto a pillow and very gently easing it out of the boot it was strapped into. The doctor’s had wrapped it up in bandages to keep it secure, so you were able to remove it from the boot to ice it. Alexia pressed an ice pack to your ankle, before procuring your meds and a drink bottle out of nowhere and leaving them on your bedside.

“Anything else you need?”

You glared straight out at the wall in front of you, lying back in your bed and refusing to look at Alexia.

“Leave.”

Alexia tried her hardest over the next week to get you to let her in. You pushed her out. You refused to leave bed besides going to the bathroom, which was not just detrimental to your physical health but also your mental health. You weren’t on your phone at all, refused to even look at it because you didn’t want to see any of the pity that was being thrown your way. Alexia tried her hardest, she came into your room at 7am every morning, prepped with breakfast that you never ate and your meds that were the only thing keeping you pain free at the moment. She tried her hardest to get you out of bed to go to your recovery appointments, but you refused to leave. Alexia was at her wits end. You needed surgery but a part of your surgery prep was that you needed to do some kind of recovery, that you needed to be strong enough to withstand that kind of toll on your body. You were depressed, something that was detrimental to your wellbeing going into surgery, if you asked the Catalan, you needed a kick up the ass, but nothing was working. Eventually, after day seven, you’d become mobile enough that she didn’t have any excuse to stay in your house anymore, you’d been very vocal about that so she’d left, apprehensively, unsure about what more she could do for you.

“Alexia, I’ve told you to fuck off.”

The sound of somebody's shoes scuffing against your doormat downstairs and your front door closing behind you was enough to make you unhappy. After seven gruelling days you’d finally gotten rid of Alexia, but now she was back and it was making you stir crazy. You could just make out the sound of her bare feet trudging up the stairs, nearing your bedroom door and opening it up.

“Leave me alone.”

You buried your head further into your pillows, pillows that were now beginning to smell a little bit too much like your. You pulled your head as physically close to the pillows as you could, twisting your body as far as you could without dislodging your ankle from its spot elevated on your bed.

“I’m not Alexia, if that helps?”

Your head shot out of your pillow and for a split second you wondered if the oxy delirium was getting to you. Alexia had been weaning you off the hard drugs, giving you less each day and replacing it with ibuprofen, which had the reverse effect on you, making you more delusional than you had been on the full strength drugs, you had more energy now though then you had a few days ago, so you could have just blamed it on you being more awake and present.

“Leah?”

You’d been avoiding your phone for a number of reasons, but number one on the list had been your girlfriend. For some reason, she was always the last person you wanted to talk to when you got injured, it made you feel guilty, ungrateful, especially considering she’d just missed out on playing you in the final this year.

“Hey baby girl.”

She looked exhausted, like she’d just gotten off a plane and it made you feel bad. Leah had spent a lot of time in your home in Barcelona, international breaks, time off, injury time, every time was enjoyable, but this time felt different.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Leah made her way further into your room, walking over to your shades and opening them a little bit, allowing more light then the very little amount that was peaking through the bottom of your shades.

“Alexia called, she said that you were in bad shape, that you needed someone and that someone had to be me. So I got on the first flight I could. She said that what you’d done was serious, full ankle ligament tears, all four of them and that you were struggling, so I got here as soon as I could.”

You let your bottom lip worry in between your teeth, as you watched Leah make her way around your room, picking up the loose articles of clothing that were on your floor, memories of Alexia fighting with you to get changed ran through your mind, a daily battle that always ended with you crying and screaming at her. Leah flung it all into your laundry basket, a little task that she always gave herself, always scared that one of us would trip and fall on a piece of clothing in the middle of the night, that fear now having escalated with crutches being brought into the picture.

“I’m fine, I would have called if I needed you, you're supposed to be with the team, they need you now more than I do.”

Leah turned back around to you, shedding her hoodie and slinging it into the laundry basket before addressing your sentence.

“Would you have? Because you didn’t and you seemed to be struggling pretty hard, Alexia called me, balling her eyes out because she was so scared that you were going to never leave bed. The girls need me, but you need me more right now, whether you know it or not, so I’m here, whatever you need, I’m here, for as long as you need.”

Leah sat herself down on the opposite edge of my bed, the one that was cold and empty. You looked at her anxiously, trying to decide whether or not you could fall into her right now, if she would catch you.

“I’m fine.”

[cosmerelists]

How Cosmere Characters Would React to Having Roommates Who Leave Dirty Dishes in the Communal Sink

As requested by @angelofmusings :)

Per angelofmusings' request, Cosmere characters are in a dorm-type situation with a shared kitchen....and SOMEBODY keeps leaving dirty dishes in the sink! How will they respond?

1. Shallan

Let's just say you do NOT want to get into an "ignoring things" competition with college-age Shallan.

Shallan: [humming to herself as she sits at the kitchen table, drawing] Roommate: Uh, Shallan...? Is that....a good place to be drawing? Shallan: [Looks up. Behind her is a tower of dirty dishes higher than a human person, teetering ominously and casting a shadow across the table where she works] Shallan: Hmm? What do you mean?

2. Sarene

Uses weaponized incompetence until her roommates get their act together.

Roommate: Why are all of my bowls chipped? Sarene: I did your dishes for you since you don't have time! <3 Roommate: Y-You did a bad job! Sarene: Did I? Huh! I tried really hard to help since you seem to be way too busy to do any housework! Sarene: Anyway, I'll get back to doing your laundry! [prepares to dump an entire cup of bleach into the washing machine] Roommate: NOOOOO

3. Vin

Vin only has one solution. And that solution is MURDER. D-Dish murder, I mean.

Roommate: Um, why are all of my dishes in a garbage bag? Vin: Well, you left them in the sink for a week so I threw them away. Roommate: You can't throw away my dishes! Vin: It's either that or throw YOU away in a trash bag. Vin: But my boyfriend said murder wasn't the answer. Vin: Yet. Roommate: ... Roommate: I-I'll do the fucking dishes!

4. Elend

Elend convinces all of the roommates to vote on who does which chores.

Elend: ... Elend: ... Elend: I can't believe they voted for me to do ALL of the chores.

5. Renarin

Rather than confront the situation verbally, Renarin opts to leave anonymous notes when nobody is looking.

Roommate (reading): This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 2 days." Roommate: This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 3 days." Roommate: This one just says, "4 days." Roommate: This one just says "5." Roommate: ... Roommate: Why is this so ominous???

6. Steris

Ha ha! As if Steris didn't set up an extensive roommate contract and force everyone to sign!

Steris: The arbitrator will be here tomorrow at 4. Roommate: Arbitrator...? Why? Steris: To discuss the dishes issue, per Section 9c of the contract we all signed. Roommate: I ONLY LEFT THEM OVERNIGHT. Steris: 4:00pm. Be there!

7. Dalinar

Let's just say that the roommates of college-age Dalinar "Blackthorn" Kholin are not going to risk pissing him off.

Roommate 1: Dude! Don't just leave that in the sink! Roommate 2: My coffee mug? Why? Roommate: 1: Dalinar gets out of class soon! Roommate 2: So? Dalinar doesn't care about dishes. I've never seen him using any other than that one steak knife he carries around. Roommate 1: Yeah, the knife he used to STAB a guy in the LEG after which he KEPT EATING HIS BURGER Roommate 2: Whoa he did that??? Roommate 1: I'm just saying he seems like the type. Wash! Your! Dishes!

8. Marsh

Marsh just does all the dishes himself because he's the RESPONSIBLE one.

Marsh: (grumbling to himself while carefully washing the dishes) Stupid roommates out having fun with girlfriends, getting into trouble, doing stuff. Marsh: While I'm here doing what needs to actually be done... Marsh: ... Marsh: Makes me want to stab myself in the eyes sometimes.

9. Tress

Tress just does all the dishes herself because she is too nice to do otherwise.

Roommate: I can't TAKE it anymore! Tress: ??? Roommate: You're always making us dinner, you always do the dishes, you fixed the air conditioner last week even though that's not even your job! Roommate: Your power of friendship is TOO STRONG and I think I'm going to have to become a better person now! Tress: I'm happy for you! Roommate: YOU WOULD BE

10.Kaladin

At first, Kaladin performatively washes the biggest, heaviest dish he can find while everyone watches, hoping to inspire their better natures. But when that doesn't work...

Roommate: [Woken up suddenly as Kaladin drags them bodily out of bed at 5:00am] Roommate: What! What's going on??? Kaladin: [dragging him toward the kitchen] You are the biggest, meanest roommate I have and I'm going to MAKE you wash your dishes as an example to the others! Roommate: D-Does this make sense in a roommate situation?? Kaladin: I don't know what you mean. Kaladin [glowering at full power] Get. Washing.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 4)

Summary: The iron cage has slammed shut and you will never leave it.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, humiliation, smut (finally :D), dubious consent

Word count: 2601

Finally, after a while, I was able to finish part 4. Perhaps I will write part 5 with the daemon prince, but I need some time for it. Updated the images (what I love about Tumblr is that you reblog the old version of the post, but by going to the original you can see the new version, it's very convenient). Specifically re-read The Hammer of Olympia for this one. I hope you enjoy it, it was a lot of fun to write.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

You still remember the first time Perturabo kicked you out because you mentioned Dorn. For two weeks he did not meet with you and did not have a heart-to-heart talk, moving away as far as possible. You thought that the primarch would do the same now, but the very next day he summoned you to his chambers.

You felt awkward for the first hour, but gradually relaxed. But still wondered why the Iron Lord behaved so strangely in the baths. Of course Perturabo was hard pressed by his responsibilities, but his sudden rage was unusual. You haven't done or said anything wrong.

Maybe he changed his mind about you? He realized that he became attached to you when a primarch should not have weaknesses. Does he see you as more than a mortal friend? Does he think of you as a sister or... something more?

These thoughts made you blush, and you hid your face in the book while Perturabo worked on the drawings. No, this is unthinkable. Of course, you knew that the primarchs had families on their planets. Parents, adoptive siblings and friends. But could they have romantic feelings for mortals?

And did you want to become his lover?

You could barely restrain yourself from jumping out of your chair and rushing around the room due to the abundance of thoughts. Feeling a strange sensation, you raised your head and with a gasp saw the attentive gaze of the primarch. You swore he could hear your heartbeat.

“Very exciting poems” - you tried to justify yourself by telling half-truths. You really liked these verses and it would be better if the lord did not know your thoughts. - “I never thought that I would love Olympic poetry about love so much.”

The primarch continued to glare at you and you shifted nervously in your chair. Did you say something bad? Since Perturabo called you, it means he is not offended or angry. But why does every minute with him last like an hour? Why is the room so hot, and the mere sight of a man makes you tremble?

“You can call me Bo.” - the primarch said quietly before turning to the table. - “During this time, I became attached to you almost like a sister. So why not make our communication even more... close.”

You smiled softly, accepting such a wonderful offer with all your gratitude. Your heart was happy. Enough time had passed to experience grief and yet you missed your parents and brothers. It was nice to feel part of the family again. Even if it is so unusual.

You involuntarily rolled your shoulders, throwing off the recent strange hot sensations. It’s as if you felt someone else’s emotions and desires that are unusual for you. But as always, you tried to brush aside the annoying thoughts and continue living in your “dome.”

***

You continued to live carefree, not knowing the sorrows of mere mortals, from time to time forgetting about the monstrous actions of the primarch. He was terrible in anger and did not value people, regarding them only as a piece of meat. He despised the weakest sons, “covered with rust” and unworthy to bear the title of Iron Warriors. He pumped out all the resources from the planets that came his way.

He had told you about his deeds before, but only the tiniest bits. Enough to frighten you and force you to obey him in everything. But you spent much more time talking about more abstract topics. Beautiful and creative. But Fulgrim's betrayal and journey into the Eye of Terror took their toll.

Now the primarch began to pour out his soul to you more and more often, sharing the terrifying methods of the art of war and enslavement. He spoke about the crimes of other legions and the warp space that you recently visited. Perturabo didn't seem to care what you thought about what was happening in the galaxies. You are just an ordinary mortal girl who will not survive in this world without him.

But you were truly frightened when the iron lord told you about the betrayal of Horus, the demons of the warp, the World Eaters and the daemon prince Angron, with whom Inron Warriors would go to their greatest battle. Siege of Terra. The man saw the horror you were in, watched as tears flowed down your cheeks and how awareness gradually came.

“I understand how difficult it is to find out all this. But nothing can be done. The False Emperor must be overthrown, and we will rule the Imperium as we deserve.” - the primarch, grinning darkly, stroked your head. - “I promised to take care of you. And I will continue to cherish you. Nobody cares about you except me. You would have become a slave or fodder for fuel in the hands of my brothers or continuing to live under my father's rule. Without me, you are a mere mortal girl, one of trillions. You are nobody. Nothing."

The man’s words hurt painfully, and yet you pressed closer to him. Thoughts swirled in my head. Your home world was far from the Solar System and yet your life was quite acceptable. You had a loving family, you did not live in poverty, and working as a chronicler was your long-time dream. Rogal Dorn brought your world into harmony, improving life on the planet and you were glad to become part of the Imperium.

But now it was just a dream. A deception. No, the primarch could not lie to you. The Imperium is rotten and sooner or later an unenviable fate would await you. The world was full of dangers and you could not resist these horrors. You would have been torn to pieces, gutted and eaten alive long ago if it weren't for Perturabo. He saved you. If he didn’t need new personal slaves, if you weren’t noticed, then you would... you would...

“Bo,” you whispered chokedly, swallowing tears and trying to calm your breathing. Fragile fingers squeezed the iron lord's tunic with force. - "I'm scared."

The man stopped stroking and you held your breath until you felt the touch of fingers on your chin. The primarch gently lifted your head, forcing you to look straight into your eyes. You could only gasp in horror and the feeling of safety next to Perturabo.

“You mortals do not obey me. You don't know what's good for you. There is no peace and kindness in this world. Only violence.” - your lips trembled and you let out a strangled squeak, feeling the grip on your face intensify. Almost possessively, the man held you close to him, never breaking eye contact. - “You promised that you wouldn’t leave me. So continue to listen to me. Love me and I will build a perfect world for you.”

You cannot stand the excess of emotions and, sobbing, bury your face in the primarch’s chest. Some part of you knew he was fooling himself. He wants to destroy and recreate everything anew just for himself. And you were part of this vast plan, a chaotic and terrifying dream, recreated from the darkest feelings of a primarch.

But the world around you was disgustingly cruel and merciless. You won’t be able to take a single step, the monsters will immediately destroy your body and mind. You didn't have anyone. No family, no friends. There are no enemies left, and the strangers have disappeared. There was no human warmth around you and you didn’t notice how you were left alone in an iron cage. Only Bo was with you. You only had him.

And if Terra must fall for the Iron Lord to be happy, then so be it.

***

He lost. The opportunity to rise was taken away from him. He was deprived of his greatest triumph. The Solar War ended in victory only thanks to Perturabo. He alone bore on his shoulders the responsibility for the entire success of the traitors while the rest of the legions indulged in senseless violence and debauchery.

But the worst thing was that Horus did not allow him to storm the Imperial Palace. He was not allowed Dorn's creation to be destroyed. He was not allowed his once beloved father to laugh in the face, who preferred another son to him. The warrior turned out to be a slave of the Chaos Gods, having lost his power and strength. And his brothers would not have been able to contribute to the war if not for the Iron Lord.

He's so tired of it. Complete disappointment. Retreating to Mars, Perturabo continued to oversee the ongoing Siege of Terra. Rage and resentment overwhelmed him and he destroyed everything that came in his way. He did not spare his creations, nor his slaves, nor his sons. He was humiliated. Again.

He hated them all. And the Emperor, and the loyalist brothers and traitors. They all mocked him. No, that will not do. The Warmaster may win this war, but he won't be celebrating for long. Perturabo will not let them rest on his laurels, oh no. He will rise above them all. The Primarch was humanity's greatest creation, but that was not enough. He needed more strength, more power. He will become a deadly deity who will crush everything in his path. All galaxies will obey him. Everyone will fear and respect him.

He will rule over everyone. And with him his Legion. And with him...

The man stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath and slowly lowering the hammer. Containing his emotions, he slowly walked towards her chambers. How long had he been trying to drown out his feelings, to deceive himself? How long and unsuccessfully have he tried to suppress this desire?

She was a fragile mortal, unworthy of his attention. But she had been a part of his life since his childhood. Crafty and smart, so kind and beautiful. She was weak, but so pleasant and sweet to the taste. Only she was allowed to see his soul hidden behind the iron. He told himself that he almost loved her like the Emperor... No, he loved her much more than his father. And the whole world.

The primarch slowly opens the door and sees you cowering next to the bed, trembling in horror. Of course, you now know about what is happening in the world and what sacrifices Perturabo makes to make your life enjoyable. Besides, you probably heard him raging with anger. Well, now you just have to calm him down.

“Bo?” - your voice trembles with surprise and you almost sigh with relief. You rise to your feet, but you can’t even take a step from the tension. - “Is it over? I-I heard how angry you were. Are you-”

“Take off.”

It's that simple. No confessions of feelings, no long conversations. The primarch did not want to wait any longer. He let you close enough to him. Why use unnecessary words when you can strengthen your connection in such a primitive but intriguing way? You freeze and open your mouth in surprise. Hands tug at the dress, unable to remove the fabric stuck to the body.

The primarch notices a blush on your cheeks. Embarrassment is an unnecessary quality, but he likes to see you in this state. It's quite charming. But he doesn't want to waste another minute. With sharp steps, the man approaches you and with one hand, forcefully tears your dress, exposing your body. You scream and try to cover yourself, but Perturabo grabs your hands, not letting you.

The man swallows, looking at your perfect forms. On your femininity. This is an ordinary human body, nothing special. He had seen naked people more than once, and females too. But you aroused him. The Emperor removed such base desires from the Astartes, but the Primarchs were a different matter. They experienced a greater range of emotions than mere mortals. They knew and saw more. But the war for humanity and service for the Emperor did not give them the opportunity to experience carnal pleasures. To become attached to mortals in a different way.

But now Perturabo no longer serves anyone but himself. And he could do whatever he wanted. With these thoughts, the man begins to touch you, no, caress you. That's what it's called. His hands on your shoulders and waist. Touching your lips, kissing your breasts and stomach. Listening to your breathing. Lower and lower until it reaches your thighs. Primarchs grew up in flasks; they were not born naturally between their mother's legs. And you... you would have been a wonderful mother to his real sons.

The man throws you on the bed and takes off his clothes. It’s good that he took off his armor first. He couldn't stand waiting that long. The primarch climbs on top of you and is displeased to see the fear in your eyes. Because of the difference in height? Women can endure even more than that, and sharing the bed with a primarch should be the greatest honor. Especially with him.

Or is it because of the blood of slaves and sons that got on his face? Still fresh, it dripped onto your body and you shuddered every time. In truth, he doesn't care. Now you are afraid, but soon you will dissolve in him and thank him for this.

Perturabo abruptly enters you, tearing you apart and looking with ecstasy at how your face stretches out in pain. He feels your blood and cannot wonder if he is your first or if your tender body is simply not intended for a primarch. Even if it's not meant to be, you have to accept it.

“Be quiet. Control yourself. I don't want to hear your screams. I don’t want to see you hurt.” - He wants it in some way. Make you suffer for what you did with him. The man moves his hips and you bite your lip. - “I just want to hear your moans. You have to beg me for it.”

The Iron Lord continues to slowly fill you, peering into your face until he notices dramatic changes. How your mouth opens slightly and your eyes close from the rush of feelings.

“Bo, I”

"You were right. I crave love. I want love. And you have to give it to me, you have to.” - the primarch accelerates, not allowing you to get a word in. “They underestimate me, but it only makes things worse for them. I am the grandest, sister. I am superior to everyone in this world. I'm not a boy, I'm a man. And now you see it. You see it.”

Perturabo leans down with difficulty and begins to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys. He remembers the sound of crunching, he remembers blood and dead eyes. It wasn't you. It was a decrepit old woman who called herself you and dared to condemn him. Daring to mock him. And you, crying with pleasure, know your place. So continue to remain at his feet and he will show you a perfect world.

The man groans and pronounces your names, continuing to whisper about his grievances and shout about imminent divinity. Until he finally fills you and sinks onto the bed with a sigh. Burying your small figure with his massive body. Completely unaware of your tears and misunderstanding in your eyes. How a drop of love mixes with true horror.

But if he saw it, it wouldn't change anything. You belonged to him. You were his and only his. The iron cage was finally closed. And now the bird will sing only to him.

[mangoshorthand]

Senseless | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader 1.3k words, Rated T/M (Steamy but not explicit).

Hello lovelies. Not a request but a little something I whacked out in a couple of hours after listening to a certain song. I will give you a cookie if you can guess which one😉. We have angst and a slightly toxic relationship. I'll warn you know, like the song that inspired it, this fic is kinda campy...

He was an unstoppable force and you an immovable object; it was fire and ice; you were each the red rag and each the bull. Static always crackled between you, even in the quiet times, the lightning ever ready to strike. 

You’d clung together as if drowning, each using the other in an effort to claw their way to the surface, though only succeeding in dragging yourselves down faster. You were drawn together by mutual brokenness and mutual need into this torrid, hurricane of a thing between you. 

You and he were like a room full of noisy machines: Discordant hums and whines creating a horrid, unbearable, nails-on-a-chalkboard din.

There were lies. There were fights and threats and harsh words. A look of rage or hurt filling his face could fill your heart with savage pleasure, and yet whenever you thought you’d given him a fatal wound, he could always turn right around and gouge an even deeper one into you, and then he would be the one enjoying the effects of his cruel tongue. 

He didn’t need to use the door, but the last time he stormed out of your apartment, he slammed it anyway.

So now he was just time you’d wasted long ago. For all you knew, he was dead, and you were proud to say you hadn’t cried a single tear over him. He’d chosen to leave, after all. He’d chosen to throw himself back into the chaos of his old life. He’d chosen that, knowing full well that it was that or you. 

So you burned his love notes, washed his scent out of your bedsheets and purged any hint of him from your life. You’d built yourself back up, somehow. 

Through a dozen changing seasons you’d long ago frozen and sweat him out of your system. He was gone, and gone for good. You didn’t waste your time thinking about him; any memory of him, on the rare occasions they occurred, was quickly pushed away and ignored until you’d all but forgotten him.

Alongside him, you were drowning, and without him you’d reached shore.

***

This should have been a night like any other.

You lay wide awake in bed, listening to the wind buffet and bluster against the window, blowing the rain into the glass with hail-like force.

Sleep evaded you. It had been a whole week of fruitless tossing and turning, in fact. For some reason your mind was on high alert.

A chill went through you despite your blankets. The dark seemed impenetrable tonight. Dense and pregnant, as if unacknowledged knowledge was waiting to overcome you while sleeping, fingers creeping into your brain and secreting unwanted ideas in the deepest recesses.

You shivered and tried to rub some warmth into your icy skin, ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach and the light film of feverish sweat on your forehead. 

The window creaked under the continued assault from the elements and you turned over with a huff, folding and punching your pillow into a more comfortable position, though without expecting it to have any effect.

Another sound, and this time your body tensed. You sat up in bed, poised to listen. This, you now knew, was why you’d been on a hair trigger all these nights: you’d been waiting.  It was as if the wind, high for these last few days was blowing a scent along with it. Subconsciously, you’d been waiting for this night to come.  

That noise didn’t come from the window. It came from the hallway. 

Your feet were on the floor before you were aware, and you were moving light-footed towards the door, pulling on your robe to cover the goosebumps on your exposed skin.

You didn’t stop to think you might be in danger, moving completely without caution towards the source of the sound. In truth, there was no space in your mind for anything but the hope of a resolution to the flutters of anxiety and anticipation you’d been dealing with. You were drawn like a magnet to that possibility.

And, when you opened the bedroom door, you found it, because standing in the hallway was an explanation for everything. 

It was a ghost you thought was long since laid to rest. 

He stood there, chest heaving against his waistcoat, his dark hair damp from the rain and blown into disarray. 

For a moment, you and he simply stared at one another.

It was him, alright. It was his perfect, angular jaw, his smooth skin and thick brows. And there, behind the dark green eyes, was the old man looking out at you: the weary traveler who rarely allowed himself to rest, who, in his deepest heart, didn’t think he deserved such happiness. 

And, in a rush, it all came back. 

You and he were like a room full of noisy machines, but all their discordant sounds were capable of falling into some inexplicable, otherworldly harmony and, in those glorious moments, everything about you made sense.

You made sense when the fire flickered, throwing dancing light onto his face, on his brow lowered in concentration and his lips moving softly as he read aloud to you. 

You made sense when he stretched out in the sun like a cat, grass stains on the arms of his white shirt, laughing as you goofed around above him. 

You made sense when you held his head pillowed in your lap, you brushing his hair out of his eyes and he looking up at you with his steadfast gaze; looking at you as if you were home.

And you made sense when the bed sheets stuck to the sweat on your entwined legs, when your back arched off the mattress, pulled into a helpless curve by the heat of his kisses to your neck.

God, it made so much sense when you gasped his name like a prayer throughout endless night-time hours. You let him touch you in ways that nobody else ever had, in ways that nobody else ever would. Only with him could it ever seem right: only to his touch could your flesh bloom like a field of summer flowers.

So, as he moved towards you in the hallway, you grabbed him by his waistcoat, pulling him to you and along with you as you backed up towards the bed. 

His touch hit you like a freight train. As soon as his mouth was on yours, as soon as his cold fingers were in your hair, everything fell back into place. His three year absence dissolved and everything besides him fell away. 

Teeth clashed, bodies half fell onto the bed. He had a tight fist curled in your hair, pulling from the roots. You kissed him fiercely, craving him as gasoline to glowing embers on the verge of smoldering.

He tasted the same, he smelled the same. A creature of habit, his shampoo was the same eucalyptus, and it hit you with another body blow. 

His body was a homecoming, and you knew it like muscle memory: he groaned into your mouth as your tongue flicked along his sensitive alveolar ridge, and then he bucked his hips into you as you transferred it to his ear, swiping your tongue down his helix in the way he clearly still loved.

And, judging by the way his hands and mouth made you shiver and squirm against him, and how hot your sex already burned for him, he remembered you as second nature too.

His light stubble scratching pleasantly against your ear, he finally spoke:

“I’ve missed you,” he rasped.

And as he kissed down your neck, pulling your robe aside to more easily get to your chest, you let out a breathless, supplicatory whisper. You said the only thing that made sense.

“Five.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Megalist

Request info + rules

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[gottalovetumbler]

Supernatural Stains

Pt.2 LFG!!!! MDNI 2,274 words info: blood, cursing, anger, dentist (Got longer than I expected but I wanted to get the back story squared away so we came all now ignore it and read on :)

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

It's been over a week since you've seen those two handsome hunks and it seems you're already going through withdrawals. The bags under your eyes have grown from near non-existent to the first thing people's eyes linger on when you greet them. To make things even better this is your first night shift in a four-shift stint so there's physically no way for you to try and remedy this odd predicament you've found yourself in. 

Your shoulder pops as you shove another drop off into the large 40lbs washing machine, you should honestly get that checked out, not cause it hurts or anything it isn't very comfortable. As you throw the last struggling socks into the drum a scent you recognize hits your senses. Ah yes, the lovely scent of shit and menthol fills the air, by golly it's your absolute favor- 

“Excuse me, do you work here?” 

Agitation digs into your spine as it crawls higher and higher because no Dave, we haven't seen each other many times and I sure as hell haven't folded your dirty ass underwear more times than my own or anything. A nice smile grows on your face as you speed walk to the office, taking pride in the fact that he has to huff and puff to keep up with your cruel pace. “Of course! How can I help you?

“Well first off whoever did my laundry last time folded it when they weren't supposed to and I got overcharged for it so I'd like that as a credit or discount. Secondly, the idiot bunched my socks up instead of folding them like asked so howcan I get compensated for that?” What a lying fucking bastard, are you kidding me? You did that laundry perfectly and even took a few pounds off the total because you felt nice but nope no anymore. 

“Well for the overpayment I can calculate how much you overpaid and apply that to this drop-off but for future reference please let us know when you pick up if something looks wrong so we can fix it as soon as possible. As for the socks, I won't be able to do much about that since they were not damag-.”

A wrinkly finger being shoved into your face stops your angry ramble, impatience simmering about to spew as you lock eyes with the source of the said appendage. The vein in his neck bulges out as he bares his teeth at you ready to tear you a new one, not sure if it'll be physically or metaphorically with how angry he's becoming. The upcoming onslaught was halted by a large hand landing roughly on Dave's right shoulder. Your matching sneers split from each other and snap to the owner of the rough grip and in that moment you realize just how invested in the angry exchange you were. 

“Mate, if you think that's the way to speak to a beautiful young lady then you need ta’go for a walk.” 

And well, you'd be lying if you deny in any way that the smooth accented voice didn't make you flush. A small part of you is scared that this will just cause a bigger reaction and maybe even a lawsuit from dear old Dave but as you both look towards the voice you realize, there's no way in hell Dave will win this one. It seems he realizes this too as he just shoots you a dirty glare and stalks out the door with his laundry. 

You recognize one of the two men straightaway, that being Johnny, and boy oh boy did you miss that faint but sweet strawberry scent though you note its dirt counterpart is much less overpowering this time around. The new scent though, lemongrass with a smidge of gunpowder, nearly takes your breath away though what truly makes you gawk is the man it's attached to. What is up with all the attractive men and why are they in your laundry mat? How did not only this 6 '1 brown-eyed beauty but his two other handsome friends end up here?  

“You alright there, love? Something on my face?” Your face flushes as Johnny snorts, clearly getting the same feeling of Deja Vu as you. The new man huffs in laughter as your head bows. The sight that greets you causes your heart to drop, there's a small puddle of blood beneath both your clenched hands. You stand frozen both in shame and awe as you stare at the crimson fluid, what crappy vampire gets entranced by their blood. Two warm hands grip each of yours gently, dislodging the nails from your palms, they must be speaking but all you can hear is the roar of blood pumping through your ears.

As your gaze locks back into focus you question just how long you've been zoned out. The light outside is nonexistent so it's no longer 5 something pm, a sluggish glance to the bottom of the computer screen tells you it's 7:36. And holy shit does that knock you straight out of the nice daze you found yourself in, your senses slowly come back as you take in your surroundings. 

You're still in the office but instead of at the counter your sat in the plush rolling chair tucked into the back corner, Johnny is sitting in one of the chairs from the lobby to your left still massaging your now bandaged hands. His eyes lock with yours and a question is clearly on the tip of his tongue when the mystery man makes himself known. 

“Oh, finally you're up! How long do you dry a down comforter for? A lady jus' dropped one off with the vague instructions to make sure i' was quite fully dry.”

It fully clicks in then that not only have you been out of it for more than two but also that the new man has been handling everything for you. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry that you had to do this. I have no idea what came over me. I am so so sorry.” Your attempt to shoot out of the chair is stopped by an immovable force, Johnny's arm locks around your midsection and pushes you back down. “No sae fast bonnie, yer in na shape tae up ad movin around. Sit back doun, guid lass, an juist rest, kyles got it covered for ye.”

“I appreciate that I really do but please, you've already helped me enough and I need to get back to work before someone reports me to the owner.” It takes quite a bit of energy to stop the nervous stammer in your voice but youmanage. It takes even more energy to convince both Johnny and who you assume is Kyle to let you finish the night but they eventually leave after catching you up with everything that's happened while you were out. 

Turns out Dave did end up coming back in and dropped off his laundry that Kyle finished as quickly as possible but waited an extra hour to let him know he could pick it up. Other than that, the machines gave them some grief and a handful of rowdy high school kids tried to use the lobby as a hangout spot but once it was clear they had no laundry they were quickly escorted out. After getting you up to speed they finally parted, Kyle with a tip of his head and Johnny with a frown. 

It was about 5 minutes after they left that you realized they not only handled customers for you but also started the nightly clean-up duty, the lint traps were cleared, the trash can emptied and even the machines were wiped down. Due to it luckily being decently quiet the rest of the night you really didn't need to sweep or mop so for the first time ever you got out right at close. 

With it being only about 10 pm, the drive home was filled with many more bright headlights than you would have liked but it wasn't unpleasant. Especially since you were much more focused on how many emotions were bumping around in your muddled head. The topmost being a mix of embarrassment and anxiety, what if Kyle and Johnny think you are some freak (just the word makes you cringe, mainly because it's not untrue), or what if someone contacted your boss or worse, left a review about the seemingly inebriated girl in the back of the office getting her bandaged hands rubbed by a burly man. All these thoughts came to head as you made a sudden and unwanted realization, you care way too much about what these men (who mind you, you've only seen less than three times) think of you. I mean you haven't even been properly introduced to each other, they could be serial killers for all you know, and here- ring ring ring.

You jump as your eyes snap to the screen of your car where the name Big Grin takes up the whole screen. Why the hell was your dentist calling this late at night? With a huff, you answer the phone with a soft “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Y/N? This is Jessie calling from Big Grin, is this a good time to talk?” She continues after getting a positive noise from you. “I'm calling with regards to your recent appointment following your concern with your teeth amongst other things-.” Oh OH, that's why they are calling so late. 

~~~~~~~flashback~~~~~~~

A few months back you finally started seeing a new dentist after moving out of your parent's house. The dentist they took you to wasn't bad per se but he didn't know how to not be a creep. So you found a new dentist, Dr.Owen was a kind man and truly listened to all your concerns, especially paying attention to the ones surrounding your upper fangs. You had seen him for about 3 months when it all changed, one day he was just doing a routine cleaning when he accidentally caught your gum and made you bleed a bit. Now this typically wouldn't be too big of a concern but when the blood hit your tongue you blacked out. Coming back to only about 30 minutes later you were then informed that you are not only not human but that your a fucked up example of what you're supposed to be. 

Dr.Owen didn't say that of course but what he did tell you is that while he is not a vampire his wife is and that was why he had gotten into dentistry in the first place. So that people like you could have access to a normal dentist and routine cleaning. He also let you know that he has studied many different types of fangs but the ones you have are new. It seems that somewhere back in your bloodline something happened because you not only have a set of vamp fangs but also just normal human adult ones. The human ones grew in first and because of that your vamp puberty has been semi-halted. 

The gist you finally get after the hour-long lecture is that being a vampire is only passed through bloodlines, no biting people to change them. And that a kid fully becomes a vampire around the typical age of puberty when their fangs fully grow in. Now vamp fangs are no different from human ones, they look the same and don't even elongate like in movies, all they do is trigger a hormone that completes the transformation. The issue with your is that because they aren't/can't fully grow they are just sitting in your gums and aren't able to fully turn you. Until they do you won't feel the unstoppable bloodlust nor do you need to feed on blood but because they do exist they have slightly impacted you. 

Until you decide to get the adult fangs removed and let the vampire ones grow in (if ever) then you would only get small hints of the vampire feature, while you don't need blood to survive if you do taste it, it acts as a little like a sugar rush or caffeine. As for abilities, your sense of smell is slightly more enhanced and your eyes are more sensitive to light, effectively making you half vampire half human. 

He also gave you a quick rundown of the history of vampires, how the first was recorded as a passenger on a ship sailing back to Britain from the new world The issue with the story though is that everyone on that ship swore up and down that Thomas H Kline never boarded the ship and appeared out of nowhere. With no proof of Thomas being anything but a normal passenger, he was free to live his everlasting life in London where he had three children with his human wife Louise. Out of the three, two inherited the gene and with them, the curse continued down the bloodline till one of the branches came to you. 

~~~~~~~unflashback~~~~~~~

“And I'm just calling to schedule your next appointment with Dr.Owen to look at your teeth again and discuss the future, what is a good time for you?” A short back and forth gets you set up for an appointment at 9:30 am the next morning, early enough before work that you can go back home and do nothing for a bit. 

With that thought you pull down your long dirt driveway fully unaware of the truck that slowly drives past the entrance before flipping back around and driving back the way you both came.

☆ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

[anjaelle]

Study Buddies

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Black!Reader Summary: He's decidedly taken permanent residence in this dorm room, and you can't say it bothers you much. Warnings: Language, mentions of bruising/battering. Word Count: 2k a/n: The successor to Dumpster Diving. The same two losers in the same universe. Only because you guys asked so nicely.

(gif source)

--x--

"I feel like this is an abuse of my good graces."

You watched as Dave Lizewski climbed through your window for the third time that week and tripped over your extension cord, falling to the floor with a dull thud. He popped back up, readjusting his hoodie and his glasses.

"You really need to move that somewhere."

"Right," you nodded, nudging the power strip with your foot, "gotta make sure my flurry of suitors have clear access to my boudoir."

He cracked a smile at you, one he rarely expressed in public for other people, and you felt your heart thump against your ribs.

Absolutely fucking not.

You plopped onto your bed and crossed your legs, "Okay, Kick-Ass, what brings you to my window this time?"

You were prepared for another round of bruises and cuts from endless fights he seemed to get himself into. Sometimes he explained the injuries, other times he didn't. But he was just happy he had someone who could help him without asking too many questions.

This time he simply shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"I kinda...just wanted to see you today."

"Oh!"

There was a heavy pause and he scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaaah."

You propped your chin on your fist, inquisitively, eying the way he seemed to fit so seamlessly into your living space. "You just saw me at study group this afternoon."

"C'mon you know it's not the same."

He was right. Sure, you had the tendency to sit next to each other in study group and bump knees. And you could feel his glances every five minutes. And sure, when he wasn't passing glances at you, you were passing glances at him wondering why he wasn't looking at you.

And, yes, you did know what it felt like to have him sleep on your chest while you stroked his soft curly hair. But that usually only happened after you got him sorted out. This was new.

You scooted over and patted the space next to you on the bed, which he happily plopped down on like he always did after leaning over to kiss you on the forehead.

"So you came all this way and climbed the side of a building for little old me? I still don't know why you don't use the front door."

“The security guard creeps me out. Besides, I’m not spider-man. I just used some guy’s ladder.”

“You stole someone’s ladder?”

“He wasn’t using it!”

“What if he’s on some roof trying to get down now?”

He stared at you. You stared back. His eyes widened.

"I'll be right back!" He jumped up and rushed out the door, shouting behind him, "Prop the front door open for me!"

He came back about ten minutes later, red-faced with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hair was messy like he'd been running, and his glasses were slightly askew.

"So..."he took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his sweater, "there was a guy on the roof. He was really pissed and, uh, I got freaked out and ran."

You noticed the grass stains on his clothes, which was clear evidence that he tripped and fell at least once on the way back. It was hard not to feel the swell of...something...deep in the pit of your stomach.

"Another job well done, Kick-Ass. Always thinking of the common man." You playfully tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, zipping it up and down while he cleaned his dirty glasses off on the Watchmen shirt you got him.

Because that's what friends did. You bought stuff for each other. For fun.

He didn't think twice about stripping down to his underclothes to throw his things in the wash. His reasons were partially because his roommates were always too lazy to clear their machine out for him to use, partially because he really liked your detergent (he admitted that the smell reminded him of you), and partially because he knew you didn't like when he wore his "gross street clothes" in your room.

Which was absolutely fair.

After throwing his grass-stained, dirty clothes in the wash, he flopped onto your bed and stared at the fairy lights that decorated the ceiling. You sat cross-legged next to him, looking him over and subconsciously checking for new injuries. You'd learned first aid just to help him with his stitches...and the occasional bullet removal. You didn't learn the bullet removal in first aid class. You puked the first time. You could still see the messy stitching in his shoulder where he was shot.

The mixtape he made for you played lowly out of the speaker on your desk, and you heard him humming softly to himself in thought.

"I like your room." He suddenly said, tilting his head to fully address you.

You cracked a smile at him, "Yeah I can tell. You've been hanging out here every other day for the last 2 months. You might as well move in."

A light, airy laugh bubbled out of him in waves. It sounded almost like a giggle, which made you giggle too.

"Why are we laughing?" You asked bumping him with your knee.

Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he thought deeply about what he wanted to say next. The fact that he lacked a poker face made him relatively easy to read--and he's said the same about you at least once.

He tapped your knee with his knuckle, "Nothing. I--just...nothing. I promise."

You sat in comfortable silence again as the music filled the room and the gentle golden lights cast shadows along the walls.

"Has anyone ever followed you here?" You asked.

"No."

It was a stern, short answer. Absolute. Definite. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before settling on your face. It was the most serious you'd ever seen him. When he propped himself on his elbow to rest his head on his hand, he clenched his jaw.

"I'd never let that happen. I would never come here first because I'd never put you in the position to be in danger."

"I know," you admitted, carefully, "I was just wondering--"

"I'd never let anything happen to you." He stated with a shrug.

You instinctively reached out and pushed his dark curls back and away from his eyes, "I thought I was the one keeping you safe. How did we get here?"

In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you to pull you on top of him like you weighed nothing. His strength always seemed to surprise you. You barely had time to let out a shocked squeak.

"You can't keep doing that."

His eyes widened, "Did that hurt? I'm sorry--"

"No," you swatted his chest, playfully, "I'm fine. I'm just never really prepared for it."

When he was sure he didn't severely traumatize you with his displays of affection, he resumed rubbing small, lazy circles into your lower back.

"Sorry for startling you."

"You're forgiven."

He leaned forward and kissed your nose.

Dave Lizewski was an enigma. Beneath the nervousness, the dorkiness, the shyness, and general earnestness was someone who surprisingly had a lot of game. You used to imagine that he practiced his lines in the mirror before he visited you. Then you realized...no. He's just very honest when he's comfortable.

You rested your head on his chest to listen to his strong, steady heartbeat that seemed to pick up speed. When you reached up to gently touch the healing scar on his collarbone where he was nearly stabbed, he shifted under you.

"What are you thinking?" He suddenly asked.

"I get scared for you sometimes."

He said nothing, but you felt his hand pause before continuing its trek down your back.

"You're still a human being, y'know," you added, "even when I pulled you out of the dumpster--"

"Which I still thank you for, by the way."

You snorted, "You're welcome. But even when I pulled you from the dumpster, you could've died from how high you fell. And then there's the stabbing, and the shooting, and you got hit by a crowbar once..."

He seemed to consider this. Then he said, "Someone has to do it. No one else on campus--in town--has stepped up to the plate yet."

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Why not me?"

"You can't answer my question with another question, you asshat."

He laughed at your outburst and lightly patted you on the butt.

"Compromise? I pinky swear to stop after graduation."

You didn't believe him. But when he held his pinky out to you, you wrapped yours around his and he pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips.

"Fine. But if you're still running around lower manhattan in a onesie at 26, I'm telling your dad."

You curled yourself back up against his chest while he curled one of your braids around his finger, absentmindedly.

"You don't have to worry about that, by the way." He said, dropping your hair, "I just really, really like the idea of you still being in my life four or five years from now."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dave nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, "I dunno. I just...I think you're really cool and I know I can be weird sometimes. And I know you might not see me the way I see you but-"

You leaned forward to kiss him once and then twice. And as your curled your fingers into his hair, he seemed to melt into your touch with a soft groan. He pulled away just enough to rip his glasses off and toss them in the corner before pulling you in again. He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of your neck when you nipped at his lower lip. Your fingernails slipped under his undershirt to walk along the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, just above the waistband of his boxers, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he hissed, kissing along your jaw and down your throat, "God, I love you."

Your eyes popped open. "What?"

"What?"

He trailed kisses back up to your lips like nothing happened, but you could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

"Did you... just say...you loved me?" You asked, between kisses. He pulled away and stared at you with panic in his wide blue eyes.

"Yes. No. Yes...shit did I ruin it? Do you want me to go?"

"No."

You felt a rush of an unexplained emotion flow through you as you pulled your hand out from under his shirt.

He traced the shape of your lower lip with this thumb before dropping his hand to your shoulder, "I--you don't have to say it back. It just slipped out."

You rolled off of him and crawled up the bed to rest your back against the wall. He hesitated, then slid into the space beside you.

"I lied," he mumbled, "I was gonna say it before, but you distracted me with your mouth. Again."

You sighed and reached over to hold his hand.

"How long?"

"Since last semester."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

You watched him thump his head against the wall, "Because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But, y'know, we crossed that line the first time we smanged, I think."

"Please don't say smanged."

You could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him, "We smanged."

You flicked him on the shoulder and he laughed. Some of the nervous tension melted away as he squeezed your hand.

"Like I said," he continued, "you don't have to say it back. It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

You thought for a moment about how often you worried about him and how often he watched over you. He seemed to always be around, even when he wasn't physically there. Dave was undoubtedly your best friend. You turned to look at him only to find him already watching you with the most intense gaze you'd ever seen. Felt your cheeks heat up.

"I'm not sure if it's love yet." You said, carefully, "But...I think it could be."

[aceofstars16]

Here we go! I finished the cover the same day I finished the rough draft of the fic, and now I edited the next chapter and posted it!

You can read the whole thing on AO3!

But I will also include the next chapter under the cut here in case you don't want to use AO3 (though I don't have the energy to find the previous chapters on here, there are links to the tumblr posts on AO3 though!)

Chapter 8 - Old Food and Old Friends

Tensions rise as Ford realizes he may need help in fixing the time machine.

Darkness. It was everywhere, sticking to everything. Ford could feel it, clinging to him, trying to suffocate him, to pull him under. And it was succeeding. Laughter echoed around him, laughter that he had heard for weeks on end, mocking him for his stupidity.

“Just leave me alone for one minute!” He screamed, knowing it wouldn’t do anything, but unable to face the suffocating darkness anymore.

“Fine. I can make it on my own! I don't need you! I don't need anyone!”

The darkness vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by the light of a lamp, sitting on a desk that Ford hadn’t seen in ages. Tires screeched outside of the closed curtains. Curtains he had closed only a few moments ago, or at least – that’s what his mind told him. In reality, it had been years ago, but dreams had a way of making everything seem real again.

Glancing down at the pamphlet in his hands, Ford let out a sigh, desperately wanting to throw it in the corner of the room for all the good it did him. That dream was gone, ruined by a brother who couldn’t let go of a childish fantasy that hadn’t been a possibility for ages.

Ruining lives, that’s what Stan did.

The thought came out of nowhere. It was almost in line with his own feelings, his own thoughts and emotions. But something about it wasn’t quite right.

Stan only cares about his own dreams; he never wanted you to succeed.

Anger rushed through Ford at the thought, but he couldn’t figure out if he was mad at himself for thinking it, or at Stan or…at something else. That unsettling feeling. He knew it, but his brain seemed to be failing him, as if something was stopping him from identifying it.

You can’t trust Stan. You can’t trust anyone.

Fiddleford leaving, townsfolk starring at him. Something about their eyes sent a chill down his spine.

You are the only one you can rely on, everyone else will fail you.

Right…that’s what he had learned. If he ever wanted to succeed, he could only trust himself. He had to do it himself, had to fix it. No matter how hard it was, not matter how lonely…

That’s right. Besides, you don’t need anyone. You are strong enough on your own.

“You are going to change the world one day.”

Pa was looking at him. It was the last time Ford had ever seen him, at some celebration that must not have been very important because every inch of the background was blurry.

“I…”

“You’ll make me proud. You’ll be someone. You’ll change the world.”

A shiver ran down Ford’s back. He didn’t know why, but something felt…wrong.

Then it was gone and Pa nodded and walked away.

One blink, and he was back in reality, staring at the ceiling of his cabin in Gravity Falls. He was shivering, and his head was throbbing, he didn’t feel sick, just…off.

Coffee, that’s what he needed. Caffeine always helped clear his head. Did he have any coffee left? Only one way to find out.

Sit up, swing his legs over the edge of the bed. That’s what he told himself to do, but his limbs didn’t respond, not because of exhaustion, but because something was keeping him there.

Panic overcame him and he started pulling, trying to yank his hands free. His muddled brain was still half in the dream, still feeling like something was there, just out of sight.

Bill.

The thought washed over him and his brain slowly recalled the last time he had been conscious, and the agreement he had come to with Stan. Tie him up. Right. But now he was stuck, and despite rationalizing that he must not have done anything since he was still tied up, the anxiety that had sparked a moment ago grew at the inability to move.

Turning his head as much as he could, another flash of anxiety hit him when he didn’t see Stan anywhere?

“Stanley?”

No response.

Oh gosh, what if Bill had taken over…what if…

“Stanley?!?”

“Huh, what?”

A second later, Stan was stumbling to his feet, looking around quickly, as if ready for a fight.

“Were…were you sleeping???” Ford stared at Stan with his uncovered eye, his worry being replaced by annoyance. After everything Ford had said, Stan had slept?

“Uh, just closed my eyes for a bit that’s all,” Stand said, his shoulders relaxing a little as he looked at Ford, but he almost immediately looked away again.

“You were supposed to be keeping an eye out on things!” Ford couldn’t help the outburst. He had trusted Stan and what did he go and do? Sleep.

“I was! And nothing happened, okay?”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You haven’t moved an inch.” Anger flashed in Stan’s eyes for a moment, but almost immediately fizzled out. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’m going to go check on the kids even though nothing happened to them because you didn’t move.”

“Wait.”

“What? I told you-”

“I’m still tied up…” Ford said, trying to move his hand as if to prove that he was stuck and needed some help if he wanted to do anything.

“Oh…right.”

It only took a few minutes - minutes of complete silence aside from Stan mumbling under his breath as he struggled with one of the knots - but soon, Ford was able to move freely again.

Rubbing his wrists, which were slightly scuffed up from the ropes, he let out a breath, knowing he should thank Stan, but when he looked up, his brother had already left. Okay then…guess no thank you was needed. Or Stan just really didn’t want to be around Ford.

The back of Ford’s neck prickled as his dream came back to him. It was Bill, that was the only explanation. He was messing with him. But glancing at the ropes, he felt doubt creeping into his mind. Stan had come, he had tied Ford up, but he also didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the situation. Of Bill and his plans. Not that Ford had been able to explain too much but deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder…could he really trust his brother?

------

Stan shut the door, not fazed by the loud banging it created. Who cared if Ford got mad? Stan hadn’t done anything wrong; nothing had happened. But the words that his brother – or really the creature controlling him – had spoken rang in his mind. Why had Ford sent him the post card?

Shaking his head, Stan pushed the thought away. Considering Ford’s reaction upon waking, he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk to Stan. And Stan wasn’t in the mood to talk to him either. He’d rather talk to his other family members. Which, to be honest, he was still trying to wrap his head around, but it did make some sense seeing as Mabel had been so keen to stay with him and trust him so quickly.

As he walked into the living room, he saw the kids. They were talking quietly and Stan ignored the memories that popped into his mind of him and Ford as kids. They had shared everything with each other back then, back when they trusted each other. But not anymore. Those kids were long gone.

“Stan!”

Mabel grinned at him and Stan couldn’t hold back a smile. “Hey, kiddo.” He glanced at Dipper - the brother that she had tried so hard to find again - and ignored the pang of hurt that came with knowing Ford had never searched for him like Mabel had for her brother.

“How’s Ford?” Dipper asked.

“I’m fine.”

Stan opened his mouth, only to be cut off when his brother walked into the room. Despite not wanting to, Stan found himself glancing at him, but Ford didn’t return the gaze, he just walked to the table where they had left the time machine, plopping down some tools before fiddling around with it. He still looked tired, but at least he wasn’t a second away from collapsing anymore.

Letting out a breath, Stan caught sight of Mabel looking at him questioningly, but he just smiled. “How’d you sleep, kiddo?”

Mabel glanced at Dipper, who was watching Ford cautiously. “Good.”

“Glad to have your brother back, huh?”

“Yeah…how are you and Ford-” She started, but Stan cut her off before she could finish her question.

“Hey, you know what, I’m kind of hungry. Want to help me rummage up some food?” Stan grinned and started heading out of the room.

A moment later, Mabel was next to him, grabbing his hand to lead him despite him knowing where the kitchen was - though he supposed she didn't know he had been there last night. “It’s this way, but there isn’t much food. Me and Dipper could only find some crackers last night.”

“I’m sure we can find something.” Stan said, hoping it was true. At this point, he was starving - the handful of crackers he ate last night had barely been a snack, let alone a filling meal. And while sleep had helped a little with his exhaustion, he knew food would help even more.

They rummaged around in the kitchen for a while, but Mabel was right, there wasn’t any food left, at least not anything edible. Why didn’t Ford have any food? Sure, he definitely wasn’t in his right mind, but it was still concerning.

“Ew.” Mabel made a face as she sniffed a pack of cheese in the fridge.

Stan chuckled, more to cover over his unease than out of amusement. “Yeah…I’m thinking a trip to the store is in order.”

“What about the snow?”

Frowning, Stan walked to the window. Snow was covering most of the sill, but he could see outside. “I think it’s calmed down some. It should be safe enough to drive.”

“Maybe we can all go to the store! A family outing!”

This time, the laugh that escaped Stan’s mouth was genuine. Mabel sure had a way of bringing excitement and joy to any situation, even one as…confusing as theirs. And Stan was grateful for it. “Yeah, maybe so.”

------

Dipper was vaguely aware of Mabel and Stan leaving the room, but he didn’t follow. Sure, Ford said he was fine and he did seem a little more coherent than before but after the encounter with Bill…

Shaking his head, Dipper focused on what Ford was doing. He was using some small tools to try to fit the time machine back together. If anyone could fix it, the author could…well, at least if he was at the top of his game.

“Ford?”

For a moment, Dipper thought he hadn’t heard him, but then Ford sighed, though he didn’t look away from his project. “Yes?”

“You look uh…”

Ford glanced at him for a second, and Dipper suddenly felt embarrassed, but he was curious about what had happened last night.

“It looks like you slept, but you told me that when you did, Bill would…”

Waving with his hand, Ford focused back on the measuring tape. “He didn’t. Stan tied me up, so Bill didn’t do anything.” For a moment, Ford’s eyes narrowed and he muttered under his breath, but Dipper still heard it. “At least I don’t think he did.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Dipper scooted slightly away from Ford and unfortunately Ford looked up right as he did. For a split second, Dipper saw guilt cross his face, but then it vanished.

“Apparently Stan fell asleep at some point too.” Ford’s gaze hardened as he returned focus on his work before muttering to himself again. “But I suppose if something had happened, I wouldn’t have still been tied up when I awoke.”

Dipper frowned. Ford and Stan’s relationship seemed…strained, to say the least. And sure, Stan from the future wasn’t always the most trustworthy guy, but…he didn’t seem too bad. And this 80s Stan seemed fine too. So why was Ford so cold towards him? Sure, he had been brash with Dipper at first but Stan was his brother, not only that but his twin.

“Ford?”

Ford didn’t look up from his work. “I need to focus, if I want to fix this.” His voice had an edge to it, which immediately set off Dipper’s anxiety.

 “Oh…right…” Dipper fiddled with his hands, not wanting to anger Ford further. But after a few moments, curiosity got the better of him. “Are you mad at Stan?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ford took a deep breath, then opened them again before continuing his work. Despite expecting it, Dipper was still disappointed. He had so many questions about what had happened to create the future he knew, but if he didn’t know anything about the past, he wouldn’t be able to answer them.

“Yes.”

Dipper sat up straight at the word. Ford still wasn’t looking at him, but the frustration on his face was evident.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story.” Ford muttered.

“But he’s here. Wait, why is he here?” Dipper was hit with the realization that he didn’t know how Stan had even known how to get to Gravity Falls. Unless he lived here too, but from Ford’s interactions with him, that seemed unlikely.

“Because I asked him to come… Gah!”

Dipper jumped as Ford threw his screwdriver on the table. “Wh-”

“This blasted thing doesn’t make sense. If I had some blueprints, I might be able to figure it out. But this machinery is too complex even for me.” Ford glared at the time machine.

Dread grew in the pit of Dipper’s stomach. “You…you can’t fix it?”

For a moment, Ford was quiet, his brow furrowed in thought. Then he straightened up, only to deflate again. “I…don’t think I can…but…I might know someone who…could help.”

“Really?” For a moment, Dipper was confused, then he remembered the journal and he straightened up. “Wait, your assistant? He’s good with machines, right?”

Ford glanced at him and sighed. “Yes, I just…have to find him.”

“You don’t know where he is?” The hope that had grown in Dipper’s chest deflated.

“I…have a few ideas...I just hope he’ll actually talk to me this time.”

------

“Absolutely not.” Ford frowned at Mabel and Stan, who had just asked about going into town together to get food.

Mabel felt disappointment worming its way into her chest, but she pushed it back. “Why not? It’ll be fun!”

Ford stared at her for a moment, as if she was some kind of puzzle. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not going to leave the por-my house without supervision.”

“What, you don’t have a lock?” Stan grumbled.

The glare that Ford shot at Stan was painful to look at, despite it not even being directed at her. “I’m not leaving my work for anyth-one to mess with.”

“You mean the big thing in the basement?” Mabel asked, which she regretted as Ford shot her a suspicious look.

“How do you-?”

“Dipper told me.”

Ford glanced at Dipper who looked at him sheepishly. Sighing, Ford shook his head. “Like I said, I don’t want to leave the house unsupervised.”

“Okay, fine, then I can just go with the kids and-” Stan started but Ford quickly held up his hand.

“Unfortunately, I need to go into town myself.”

“Why? Don’t trust us to get the right food?” Stan countered.

For a moment, Ford just glared at Stan, and Mabel hated how icy his look was.

“No, I have to find someone if we want a chance at fixing the time machine and I’m the only one who knows him. And where to find him.” 

Stan made a dismissive sound, but before he could say anything, Mabel piped in, not wanting Stan to get even more annoyed. “How about we split up!”

Everyone turned to look at her and Mabel gave her biggest grin. “Me and Dipper can go with Ford and Stan can stay to watch things.”

Mabel tried her best not to be disappointed when she saw the deep frown that grew on Ford’s face.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I should just go into town myself and-”

“Oh yeah, it’s not like you’re seriously sleep deprived or anything,” Stan muttered.

“Well, if you-”

“Hold up!” Dipper raised his voice, and Mabel had a feeling that he wasn’t a huge fan of the brothers arguing either. “Why can’t me and Mabel go with Ford while Stan stays here to watch the house?”

A grin grew on Mabel’s face and she gave Dipper a thumbs up at his support of her plan. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Stan, she couldn’t help but feel excited to have some quality time with Dipper and maybe figure out what was going on between Stan and Ford.

“I suppose it could work but...I’m still not a fan of it…” Ford glanced at Stan for a moment, and unfortunately Stan saw it.

“What, you don’t think I can sit in a house?” Stan deadpanned.

Clutching his hands behind his back, Ford’s gaze flickered away from Stan. “No, it’s not that it’s just…there are things that you don’t understand, and if anything went wrong…”

“You don’t trust me.” It was an accusation, but Mabel didn’t miss the hurt that crossed Stan’s face.

“I didn’t…look we’re wasting time. I’ll just go into town.” Ford glanced at Mabel. “You can come if you’d like, but Dipper has more experience with supernatural occurrences so he should stay here in case anything…happens.”

Stan opened his mouth, probably about to argue some point, but Mabel quickly jumped in. “Sounds good to me!” In reality, she would rather Dipper go with her or she stay with Stan, but she was tired of the arguing and it wasn’t the worst solution.

“Are you sure, Mabel?” Stan asked, glancing at his brother with uncertainty.  

Dipper was looking at her in concern too, but she just grinned and looked at Ford. “Yup! It’ll be fun!”

For a moment, Ford just stared at her, then sighed. “Alright then, we should get going.” He held out his hand towards Stan.

For a moment, Stan looked confused, then understanding crossed his face and he sighed, reluctantly pulling out his keys. “You better not crash her Ford; I know your luck with cars. And with that eyepatch you’re bound to be even worse.”

Grabbing the keys, Ford let out a huff. “I still know how to drive, Stanley. And I can still see. Come along, Mabel.”

Mabel gave her brother and grunkle a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll be back soon!” Then she headed after the author. Sure, she didn’t really know him, and he did seem a little…cold, but it would totally be fine! It was just an opportunity to get to know Ford. And maybe, just maybe, she could get him to tell her what was going on between him and Stan so she could help fix it.