#i wanted to do something with my day. i just wanted to hang out with a kitty my new kitty friend and it ruined my whole day and maybe week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usedtobecooler · 3 days ago

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the sinclairs' new neighbour arrives out of the blue on a random friday night in may and subsequently becomes the object of eddie munson's desires.

tw: explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni. virgin!eddie, oral male receiving, eddie's pov. pathetic amounts of pining. no use of y/n.

you've been around after every hellfire meeting for a month now, waiting with legs crossed and swinging from a fold-out table as you sit patiently for them to wrap it up, and fuck if you're not the most distracting thing eddie munson has ever laid eyes on.

you join in on the end-of-game conversations every week, a genuine little interest in the lilt of your voice as you ask questions and join in with the banter, which usually consisted of ribbing mike wheeler for being a little shit.

and, eddie's not dumb, okay? he knows you're only here because you're picking up the sinclair siblings every week, taking a bit of the load off steve harrington, who's been designated chauffeur for a year now, much to his own dismay.

but, sometimes, he thinks you maybe like being here and spending late friday evenings in their presence. and it's a nice little delusion for eddie to live in until he's home and safely tucked under his sheets, thinking of your cute laugh and your flirty smile when he slides a hand under his sleep shorts.

he's only a man. a pervert of a man, absolutely. but he'll feed into his delusions and feed into his daydreams, because it's not hurting anybody but himself in the confines of his room.

things are shadowy and hazy this particular friday, and eddie sure as shit is not on his game. he's stuttering and fumbling over his words, which wheeler is using to his advantage like the dickhead he is, mocking eddie with every fuck up with that stupid fucking face he makes.

eddie calls it a day earlier than usual because his head just isn't in the game damnit, and henderson claps him on the back on his way out, giving him this sincere smile which eddie kind of hates because dustin usually takes every opportunity to add himself into their shithead-ery.

oh god, he was worse than he thought. he needs to hang his hat up and give his job over to zombie boy byers immediately.

eddie doesn't get out of his head quick enough to realise that harrington arrived and left with all of the kids in tow, the sinclairs included.

so when you arrive at the door a half hour later, a confused look on your face, eddie's face fucking falls.

"damn, did harrington want his old job back that badly he kidnapped my kids?" you laugh quietly, all sincerity and jokes as you look around the empty room, eyes landing on eddie with a sparkle.

"it's my fault, i let everybody go early and i-" eddie groans, putting his hands on his hips then dropping them to his sides, "i didn't think. sorry, sweetheart."

sweetheart. why'd he fucking say that? someone needs to get the shotgun and put him down like old yeller.

eddie makes himself busy by packing away all his stuff, pointedly not looking in your direction because he's an idiot piece of shit, and who knows what other mess will come out of his mouth if he keeps letting himself look at you.

"you seem stressed, eddie," you observe quietly, a statement. you cross your arms behind your back, fingertips linking together, "is there anything i can do to help?"

eddie lets out this little self-deprecating laugh, a mirthless smile on his features, "unless you stop showing up here, no, there's nothing you can do."

a hurt look flashes across your face momentarily before it disappears again, masked over with a confused furrow of your brows, "oh. i'm sorry, have i done something wrong?"

eddie's fucking this up. he's a fucking idiot, who apparently can't talk to any girl who isn't ronnie or little erica sinclair.

"just, y'know, consuming my brain so much that i can't focus on anything else lately, so." eddie admits, deflated as he slumps into his chair and rolls his neck until he's looking up at the ceiling. his throat clicks audibly, dry and scratchy.

"oh." you say again, a relieved sigh escaping you as you kick a leg out to bash his shin lightly with the toe of your boot, "why didn't you say something? that's- that's okay. lucas kind of figured, he told me your moon eyes were annoying him."

eddie's kicking them all out. hellfire will be no more. he's sick of these damn kids.

he covers his face with his hands, rubbing against his two day stubble with calloused fingertips. a useless groan escaping him, "sorry, i wasn't trying to be obvious. girls don't. hmm."

eddie stops himself with a grunt, trying to narrowly escape the word vomit that threatens to spill out. he's nervously jiggling his leg, the chains on his jeans clattering together obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet room.

he feels your presence enter his orbit, the soft press of your hand on his knee stopping the motion of his jerky leg.

"don't be so nervous," you scold playfully, voice light like you're trying to hide a smile, "i'm not anybody to be nervous around. i like that you noticed me, that i'm somebody you're interested in."

eddie's hands fall away from his face at that, and he blinks blearily, head lolling until he catches sight of you crouched down in front of him, staring up with these gorgeous eyes that eddie just wants to get lost in.

"really?" he asks dumbly, brain short-circuiting at the sight of you knelt down like this in front of him, his stupid mind wandering into filthy territory.

"really." you nod, smiling up at him with this thousand-watt thing that he's sure could power the whole of hawkins, "i'm interested, too. in case i wasn't being obvious enough by hanging around here willingly every week."

you weren't obvious at all. not at all. or maybe you were and eddie's just a fucking moron.

"can i help relieve some of that stress now?" you ask, head tilted to the side in question, "i'm only down here anyway."

eddie's brain melts out of his ears, he's pretty sure. his tombstone is sure to say here lies eddie munson, killed by the insinuation of a blowjob.

"oh, you don't have to- you really don't have to, ha, your hands are on me, fuck-"

the conversation kind of fades out after that, and you're all action dropping from your deep squat to thud your knees against the floor softly.

and you're so pretty on your knees for him, eyelashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks that are flushed and warm. eddie practically melts into his chair as you paw at his jeans, fluid motions and featherlight touches like you've done this before, and god he doesn't want to think about that right now, that you've done this for other guys before him. not when you're laid out below him and nudging in between his spread legs with pursed lips, spitting over the flushed head of his dick to dampen it further.

"you should- you should know i've never done this bef- fuck, fuck," eddie stutters over his words, fingers clawing into the arms of the chair when you begin mouthing hot and wet over the leaking slit that continues weeping pathetically with every lave of your tongue.

he tried, okay? he tried to tell you, but he's a weak man and - and you're fucking looking at him with these pretty, knowing eyes like you had a clue from the beginning, and fuck was it really that obvious?

he clenches his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of a neon sign over his head that scream eddie munson, adult virgin.

you start off slow and savouring, lapping at him with these kitten licks and mouthing down the bulging vein on the underside. eddie thinks he's delirious, because he's surely imagining the way you're inhaling the musky scent of him, moaning prettily as you do.

"mm, fuck," eddie groans quietly, hips shakily punching up when you finally sink down over the head of his cock properly with your lips wrapped tightly around your teeth, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes him feel fucking insane.

he didn't know it would feel like this. his brain is gonna explode, scanners style.

your hand reaches blindly for his, guiding his fingers to slide into your hair, and his eyes fly open to meet yours, a pretty haze covering your orbs as you nod slightly to give him the go-ahead to curl his fingers.

"ha, you're gonna fucking kill me," eddie murmurs, but he's gently pulling ever so slightly from the root at the base of your skull, because he may be a virgin but he's not fucking clueless, right? he's read enough skin mags to know how to pull hair properly.

you whimper high pitched and your eyes finally flutter closed, letting eddie move you up and down with his firm hand as you alternate between sucking and drooling all over his length.

he's aware that he's looking at you like he's in love, okay? he can't help it. you're literally sucking the soul out of him, moaning around his girth and running your tongue over him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted. like he said before, he's weak.

"you- you're so good at this, oh my god," eddie's eyes roll back into his head when your free hand runs from where it's gripping the meat of his thigh to slide between his obscenely wide legs and cup his balls, rolling and squeezing them between your fingers.

the room is filled with the whining, high-pitched noises that eddie's really trying his best to hold in at risk of sounding like an absolutely pitiful virgin, and the wet noises of your mouth working over his cock, the slick slide of your fist jerking off what you can't quite reach.

eddie's stomach clenches, and holy fuck this is over too quick, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed because, because-

"i'm coming, you're making me come, holy fuck-" eddie's words die with a groan that sounds breathy and pathetic even in his own ears, his fingers burying so tight in your hair and pulling as he arches in on himself and jerks his hips in aborted little thrusts. he feels the plush of your lips brush against the wild, untamed curls at the base of his cock and he lets out a weak grunt, feels his length throb and spurt out another weak dribble of come at the sensation.

he's so delirious when he finally comes to that he's all but dragging you up from where your knees have to be aching on the floor, dragging you into his lap, and fuck sake his soft cock is still out and covered in spit and come and-

your mouth is on his in a hot press of lips and teeth and tongue, eddie's so out of his element here but the taste of his own spend on your tongue is as addictive as it is mildly disgusting.

"you got a mattress in the back of that van of yours?" you mumble between kisses, smiling into it.

"mhm, yup, a-ha," eddie nods wildly as he chases your mouth with his own, "i think i need some more stress relief. i hear burying your face between a pretty things legs helps."

eddie definitely does feel like he's dying when your thighs wrap around his ears and lock him in face-first.

and what a way to go that is.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #x reader #mine #my fanfic #he possesses me mind body and soul #virgin!eddie makes a comeback in a new way #virgin!eddie munson

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cceana · 2 days ago

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Arcane Highschool!AU 2

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 6.1k words, part 1 here, established relationships except for vi's, Star athlete!vi x band!reader, Childhoodbestfriend!caitlyn, New kid!jinx x Class president!reader, Troublemaker!sevika x Tutor!reader, Artist!ekko x Muse!reader, Bestfriend!jayce, and Enemies to lovers!viktor

A/N - lmaoo.. sorry yall for not posting for like a really long time ;-; studied my azz off last week which was def worth it cuz i did so feaking well on that exam hehe. this was lowk rushed bcuz i rlly wanted to post. hope yall enjoy queens (> 3 <)

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

The weeks following that unexpected late-night moment between you two felt different—charged with something new, something unspoken but lingering in the air. It wasn’t just the occasional brush of hands when walking side by side, or the way she’d glance at you across the cafeteria before looking away just a little too fast. It was the warmth in her voice when she teased you, the way she stuck around after practice just to sit beside you while you tuned your instrument.

She never said why she stayed. You never asked.

But you both knew.

It started with one call—past midnight, your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

“I can’t sleep,” she said when you answered, her voice rough with exhaustion.

You could hear the faint sound of cars passing outside, the rustle of her shifting under the covers.

“You’re calling me because you can’t sleep?” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded at the thought of her thinking about you this late.

“Yeah,” she admitted. A pause. “Your voice is kinda nice.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh.”

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

You smiled, rolling onto your side.

From that night on, the calls became routine. Sometimes she ranted about her coach pushing her too hard. Sometimes you talked about your music, your fingers unconsciously tracing the melodies you’d played that day. Other times, you simply listened to each other breathe, neither willing to hang up first.

one day, she told you about a celebration party her teammates where hosting

She invited you.

“It won’t be the worst thing ever,” she had said, arms crossed as she leaned against your locker. “Just show up for a little bit.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you want me at parties?”

Her lips had twitched, almost like she was fighting back a smirk. “Since I realized you never leave that damn band room. It’s tragic, really.”

So here you were, awkwardly lingering near the kitchen, nursing a half-empty cup of soda while bodies moved and music pulsed around you.

And she? She was in the center of it all—laughing, drinking, surrounded by teammates who treated her like some kind of legend. She belonged here, in the chaos and the noise.

You? Not so much.

You should have left an hour ago, but something held you in place. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing at you between conversations, like she was making sure you were still there. Or maybe it was the warmth in her eyes whenever your gazes met.

Either way, you weren’t leaving just yet.

You had just decided to step outside for some air when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned, blinking up at her. She was closer than expected, her usual cocky smirk in place—but there was something else in her expression, something tense.

“Just getting some air,” you replied. “It’s suffocating in here.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Come on.”

Before you could respond, she was leading you out the back door, weaving through the crowd with ease. The cool night air hit you instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat of the party.

You leaned against the railing of the back porch, inhaling deeply. “Finally.”

She chuckled beside you, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shot her a look. “You asked me to.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out into the night. Then, in a voice softer than you’d ever heard from her, she said, “Yeah. I did.”

Something about the way she said it sent your heartbeat into a sprint.

You shifted, watching her carefully. “Why?”

She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I wanted you here.”

Your breath caught.

She turned to face you fully now, her expression serious—no teasing smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect. Just raw honesty.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around,” she started, voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I’m stubborn, I’m hot-headed, and I probably piss you off at least twice a day.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “At least.”

Her lips quirked up slightly before she continued. “But you… you’re different. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my crap, and somehow, you still—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure she could hear it.

“I keep catching myself looking for you in a crowd,” she admitted, shifting her weight like she was forcing herself to stay still. “I wait outside your rehearsals, even when I could’ve left. I call you at night because your voice is the only thing that makes me feel like the world isn’t spinning too fast.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I like you.”

The words hung between you, thick with weight, with meaning.

“I don’t just like you, actually,” she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I—I think I’m falling for you.”

You stared at her, stunned, unable to form words.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was bracing for rejection. “If that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, just—”

You stepped forward before she could finish, reaching for her hand.

She froze as your fingers slid between hers, as you squeezed lightly.

“You idiot,” you murmured, your chest aching with something overwhelming. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t fully considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat, she huffed out a laugh. “God, we’re dumb.”

You grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked nervous. “Can I—?”

You didn’t let her finish. Instead, you pulled her down into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—she was clumsy, caught off guard, but warm and sure the moment she realized what was happening. One of her hands came up to cup your face, rough and calloused but impossibly gentle.

When you finally pulled away, she was breathless, eyes flickering between yours.

“So,” she murmured, voice lower now. “Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned, lacing your fingers together. “Good.”

And as she pulled you back inside—back into the noise and the chaos of the party—it didn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

Not when she was right beside you.

Not when she was yours.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

The days that followed felt like something out of a dream. The kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from.

She had been true to her word—she didn’t want to let you go again. Every morning, you’d wake up to a good morning text, and by the afternoon, she’d have already made plans for the two of you, whether it was a quiet café visit, a stroll through the city, or simply lounging in her estate’s massive library, reminiscing about the past between pages of old books.

She had slipped back into your life as if she had never left it.

And yet, there was something new about this—something deeper, sweeter

Like the way she’d always find an excuse to touch you, whether it was resting her head on your shoulder when she was tired, bumping her knee against yours under the table, or absentmindedly playing with your fingers when you sat next to each other.

Or the way she would wait for you. Even when she was drowning in responsibilities, she would insist on having lunch together, texting you just to tell you something random about her day.

Or the way she’d steal your snacks.

Without fail, if you had food, she would somehow find a way to take at least a bite. “Sharing is caring,” she’d say, plucking a fry from your plate before you could react. And if you tried to call her out on it? She’d just smirk, pop whatever she took into her mouth, and say, “You love me, so it doesn’t count as stealing.”

(And you couldn’t even argue. Because she was right.)

Then there were the nights.

Those were your favorite.

She was always busiest during the day, but at night? That was when she really let herself be soft with you.

Like when you’d both curl up on the couch, watching movies that neither of you paid attention to because she was too busy tracing lazy patterns against your arm, or playing with your fingers, or resting her head in your lap with the most peaceful look on her face.

Or the nights when she’d show up at your door unannounced, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still full of warmth as she mumbled, “Just needed to see you.”

You’d let her in without question, and she’d collapse onto your bed with a tired sigh, reaching for you without hesitation. “Come here,” she’d murmur, voice softer than usual, more vulnerable. And when you settled next to her, she’d just hold you, burying her face against your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her steady.

Or—your personal favorite—the way she looked at you.

Soft. Fond. Like you were the most precious thing she had ever laid eyes on.

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch in her study, she nudged you with her foot. “Hey.”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cupcakes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want cupcakes,” she repeated matter-of-factly, already standing up and stretching. “And I want to make them with you.”

You laughed, setting your book aside. “Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, offering a hand to pull you up. “But I’m a fast learner. Come on.”

You sighed but let her drag you to the kitchen. What followed was absolute chaos.

Flour on the counter, sugar accidentally spilled on the floor, a mess of ingredients neither of you fully measured properly. She kept getting distracted, flicking flour at you, grinning mischievously every time you yelped in protest.

At some point, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you mixed the batter. “I think we make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I’m doing all the work.”

She hummed, tightening her hold on you slightly. “And you do it so well.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Okay, okay, let’s get these in the oven before I distract you too much.”

Too late, you thought, but you didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, you watched as she carefully placed the tray in the oven, a proud gleam in her eyes despite the fact that neither of you had any idea if the cookies would even taste good.

It didn’t really matter.

Because moments like this—messy, chaotic, ridiculous moments with her—were worth more than any perfect, scripted day.

And when the cupcakes came out horribly burnt, she just laughed, tossed one to you, and said, “Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

Loving her was like standing in the eye of a storm—unpredictable, consuming, and just a little dangerous.

But you never wanted to be anywhere else.

She was everything you weren’t. But in the same way that she crashed into your life like a hurricane, she had also settled into it, leaving pieces of herself in all the places she had touched.

And now, she was everywhere.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere between her dragging you into trouble and worming her way into your perfectly structured life, she had become a permanent fixture.

No, more than that.

She had become yours.

Your mornings were different now.

Instead of waking up to your alarm and immediately drowning in responsibilities, you woke up to her texts.

chaos incarnate: WAKE UP chaos incarnate: pres, you better not be ignoring me chaos incarnate: hello?? chaos incarnate: fine. i’m calling you.

And then, not even a second later, your phone would start ringing.

You groaned, answering it without opening your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

You sighed, rolling over. “It’s four a.m.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

You hated how easily she did that.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“And? That was a whole eight hours ago.”

You groaned again, but this time, you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your lips.

The entire school knew about you two.

Not because you told anyone, but because she made it impossible not to know.

She’d sling an arm over your shoulder in the halls, leaning in obnoxiously close just to see you flustered.

She’d steal your lunch, even if she had her own, just to make you roll your eyes and huff at her—because, according to her, you looked cute when you were annoyed.

She’d sit in on student council meetings—uninvited—kicking her feet up on the table like she belonged there, just to watch you glare at her.

And if anyone so much as looked at you for too long?

She’d pull you closer, smirking as she draped herself over you and drawled, “Mine.”

You pretended to be exasperated by it all.

You weren’t.

One second, she was smirking at you from across the room, her gaze sharp, teasing, full of something wild you could never quite pin down. The next, she was leaning against your desk, spinning a pen between her fingers as she sighed dramatically about how boring the student council meetings were, just to get a reaction out of you.

And sometimes—when no one else was around—she’d be quiet. Soft. Like a storm that had momentarily calmed, if only for you.

It was confusing. It was frustrating.

But it was also thrilling.

You never knew what she’d do next, but somehow, you always ended up right there with her.

“We’re skipping.”

You blinked up at her from your pile of papers. “What?”

She grinned, already grabbing your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. “I said, we’re skipping. Come on.”

You pulled back instinctively. “I can’t. I have to finish—”

“Boring,” she cut in, rolling her eyes. “You work too much. If you spend one more hour staring at those papers, you’ll turn into one.”

You crossed your arms. “And you get into trouble too much.”

She smirked. “Yeah? And yet, here you are, still standing next to me.”

You sighed, but the fight was already slipping out of you. With her, it always did.

She took advantage of your hesitation, intertwining her fingers with yours, and your heart definitely didn’t just stutter in your chest.

“Come on,” she murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “Just for a little while?”

And just like that, you were done for.

The two of you ended up on the rooftop, the one place where no one ever checked.

She sat on the ledge, legs swinging slightly, looking up at the sky like she had never seen it before.

For a moment, she was quiet. Contemplative.

Then, without looking at you, she spoke.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever stuck around.”

The words were soft, but something about them hit harder than anything she had ever said before.

You swallowed, watching her carefully. “You don’t make it easy.”

She laughed, a little breathless. “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way you never expected.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against hers where they rested on the ledge.

She went completely still.

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but she caught your hand before you could.

Her grip was tight—like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“You drive me crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, and you worry too much, and you never break the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

She huffed, exasperated, before turning to face you fully.

And then—before you could react—she leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuited.

She pulled back, smirking at your stunned expression, but there was something warm in her eyes, something real.

“You’re mine now,” she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You opened your mouth—probably to protest, maybe to demand an explanation—but she just squeezed your hand again, tilting her head at you.

“…Unless you don’t want to be.”

You swallowed, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

And then, slowly, you laced your fingers through hers properly, squeezing back.

“…I think I do.”

Her smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“Good,” she murmured.

— Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t sure when this became normal.

When tutoring sessions turned into something more—into lingering glances across textbooks, into stolen moments between classes, into a relationship that neither of you ever really talked about, but both of you knew was real.

It had started with her grumbling about the stupid school system, about how she didn’t need to study when she had “better things to do.” But now? Now, she was here—on time, every time, sitting across from you with a scowl like she hadn’t just walked across campus grinning at you like an idiot when she thought no one was looking.

She had changed.

Or maybe she hadn’t, and you were just seeing her differently now.

Either way, she was yours.

And that was enough.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, realizing that, yes, you were staring, and, yes, she was very much aware of it.

“I’m not,” you lied.

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you flipped the page in five minutes?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

Damn it.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t take you for the distracted type, tutor.”

You sighed, closing the book. “Maybe if you actually studied, I wouldn’t have to get distracted.”

She scoffed, leaning back. “I do study.”

You gave her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I study when you make me.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching you in that way that always made your stomach do something weird.

“Why do you even put up with me?” she asked.

The question caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because she sounded genuinely curious.

Like she didn’t understand why you were still here.

Like she didn’t realize how easy it was to love her.

You frowned. “Because I want to.”

She stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then, suddenly, she reached across the table, grabbing your hand.

It wasn’t gentle.

It never was with her.

But her grip was warm, steady, real.

“…Good,” she muttered, squeezing your fingers once before pulling away. “You’re stuck with me, anyway.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dating her meant learning to navigate her world.

The world of bruised knuckles and reckless grins, of sharp words and sharper instincts, of someone who had spent so long fighting that she didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t mind.

She never hurt you—not really.

But sometimes, she’d show up to your study sessions with a fresh cut on her cheek, or a bandage wrapped around her hand, or a bruise blooming on her jaw, and every time, you’d sigh, pulling out your first aid kit without saying a word.

She hated it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

She huffed but didn’t pull away, letting you press a cotton pad to her cheek, wincing when the antiseptic stung.

“Idiot,” you muttered, brushing your thumb over her skin after you were done.

She smirked. “You love me.”

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured side of her face.

She tensed for half a second before melting into it, her fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place like she never wanted you to leave.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

There were other parts of her world, too.

Parts that had nothing to do with fights or scraped knuckles.

Like how she always walked you home, no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to.

Or how she’d steal your pens just to hear you complain about it, only to return them later with a smug grin.

Or how she’d grumble about studying, but when you fell asleep next to her, she’d pull a blanket over you without saying a word.

Or how she’d stay, even when she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the best with words.

But she didn’t need to be.

Not when she loved you like this.

“Hey,” she called one day, leaning against your locker.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted, suddenly looking a little… awkward.

Which was weird, because she was never awkward.

You frowned. “Are you—”

“I got you something,” she blurted out.

You blinked. “You what?”

She huffed, shoving something into your hands.

It was… a necklace. Simple, understated. Something you would actually wear.

You stared at it, then at her.

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Because I wanted to.”

You looked down at it again, running your fingers over the chain.

It was nice.

And it was from her.

Your heart did that weird thing again.

“…Put it on me?” you asked softly, handing it back.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that, before scoffing. “You really like making me do things, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

She muttered something under her breath but moved behind you, fastening the clasp.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered.

“…There,” she murmured.

You turned back to her, letting her see the way you were smiling. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, but her ears were red.

You grinned.

Then, impulsively, you reached up, cupping her face in your hands before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She froze.

“…You absolute menace,” she muttered after a second, her voice half-choked.

You laughed. “You love me.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way she grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as she pulled you down the hall?

That told a very different story.

— Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

The world felt different when he painted you.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened as they traced your features, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly in that absentminded, faraway smile. Or maybe it was the way he became so completely immersed in the moment, like nothing else existed except you, him, and the quiet hum of creation between you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—when you had become his muse, when his hands had memorized the slopes and curves of your expression more intimately than you ever could. But at some point, it became normal to sit in his studio, to let him paint you while the sun spilled golden light across the room.

At some point, it became home.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

You huffed but obeyed, shifting just slightly to get comfortable. “You know, I’m starting to think you just tell me that so I don’t walk away.”

He smirked without looking up. “Would it work?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a fresh stroke of color. "Then I don’t see the problem."

You watched him work, watched the way his fingers moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowing in deep focus.

It was so like him—to get completely lost in his art, in the way he captured emotions in strokes of paint. You weren’t even sure he realized how much he gave away when he worked. The quiet admiration, the unwavering patience, the unspoken tenderness in the way he committed you to canvas.

The thought made warmth curl in your chest.

He loved you.

Even in the moments when he didn’t say it outright, you felt it.

“…You’re staring,” he noted after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

You smirked. "So?"

"So," he mused, dabbing a final stroke onto the canvas before finally looking at you, "stay still."

You scoffed but didn’t argue.

His gaze lingered, studying you like he was committing every detail to memory.

Then, suddenly, he set the brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing up and making his way toward you.

Your brows furrowed. "Are we done?"

He hummed, stopping right in front of you. "Almost."

Before you could question him, he reached out, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek.

You blinked.

“…Did you just wipe paint on me?”

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

Your jaw dropped. "You menace—"

He laughed, grabbing your hands before you could retaliate. "It’s barely anything!"

"You smudged me!"

"You’ll live."

You gasped dramatically. “I can feel it on my face—”

"Would you like me to fix it?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How?"

He smiled. "Like this."

And then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, right where the paint had been.

You froze.

Your heart stumbled over itself, warmth blooming beneath your skin.

"...That doesn’t count as fixing it," you mumbled, embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, fond.

"I disagree."

Loving him meant understanding the way he saw the world.

The way his hands itched to create, to turn fleeting emotions into something tangible.

The way he’d go silent for long stretches, caught up in his own thoughts, before suddenly dragging you into his latest project with that spark of inspiration in his eyes.

The way he loved you—not just with words, but in the way he painted you, over and over again, like he was trying to keep you forever.

And maybe, in his own way, he was.

One night, long after the city had gone quiet, you found yourself back in his studio, curled up on the couch while he worked.

You weren’t posing this time.

You were just there, watching as he sketched in his notebook, his focus unwavering even as the hours slipped by.

“…Do you ever get tired of painting me?” you asked suddenly.

He paused, looking up at you.

Then, without hesitation—"Never."

You stared at him. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

"It is obvious," he said simply, setting his notebook aside as he moved toward you.

You let him sit beside you, watching as he reached for your hand, tracing absentminded patterns along your fingers.

“…There are infinite things in the world to paint,” he murmured, his touch feather-light, reverent. “Landscapes, emotions, stories… But you?” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. "You are my favorite."

Your breath caught.

You weren’t used to this—to his quiet, devastating sincerity.

He didn’t always say how he felt outright. He spoke in colors, in soft touches, in lingering glances over paint-stained canvases.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling your face grow warm.

He smirked. “And you love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Instead, you tugged him closer, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just existed—wrapped in warmth, in paint-stained fingertips and whispered affections between the silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

— Bestfriend!jayce

There were moments where you still couldn’t believe this was real.

That after years of laughter, inside jokes, stolen hoodies, and whispered dreams of the future, you had ended up here—curled up next to him, his arm lazily draped around you, as if this had been inevitable from the very start.

In a way, maybe it was.

Loving him never felt like a sudden thing, never like some grand revelation that struck you out of nowhere. It had crept in slowly, weaving itself between every late-night conversation, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted just a little longer than it needed to.

And now? Now it was second nature.

He was yours.

And you were his.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

He smirked without looking up from his book. “The thing where you stare at me like I put the stars in the sky.”

You scoffed, shoving him playfully. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention toward you. “Not denying it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or judging you.”

“Doubt it.”

You sighed, dramatic. “God, dating you is exhausting.”

“Right?” he teased. “Can’t believe you fell for me.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Can’t believe I did, either.”

His expression softened at that, his teasing smile melting into something fonder.

Then, suddenly, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before letting his fingers trail down, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“…Lucky me,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just sat there, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, your heart stumbling over itself at the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something rare.

Like he had been waiting his whole life for you.

“…You’re such a sap,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. “Only for you.”

The thing about dating your best friend was that nothing really changed.

Not in the way you expected, at least.

There were still late-night fast food runs, still study sessions that turned into existential conversations, still a constant presence at your side whenever you needed him (and even when you didn’t).

But there were differences, too.

Like how he held your hand without hesitation now, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Or how he hugged you longer, pressing his face into your shoulder like he needed to be close to you.

Or how he kissed your forehead absentmindedly whenever you did something that made him proud, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Or how he whispered, "Love you," so casually, like he had always been saying it.

Like he always would.

“Okay, real talk,” he said one night, sprawled across your bed like he owned it.

You hummed, flipping a page in your book. “Mm?”

“If we weren’t dating, would you still have a crush on me?”

You blinked, giving him an unimpressed look. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.”

You sighed, setting your book down. “We are dating.”

“But if we weren’t,” he pressed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would you still be into me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

Then, with a smirk, you shrugged. “Dunno. You’re kinda annoying.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“But,” you continued, reaching over to poke his cheek, “I’d probably be in love with you anyway.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hopelessly in love.”

You groaned. “Why do I even like you?”

He laughed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“…Because we were always meant to end up here.”

Your breath hitched.

The words were simple, said so casually, but they settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through your entire being.

Because he was right.

Every moment, every choice, every little thing that led to this—it had always been leading you here.

To him.

To this.

To something more than forever.

— Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

It still surprised you sometimes—how things had changed.

How the cold rivalry that once existed between you had melted into something warm, something constant, something that made your chest tighten in the best way whenever you so much as thought about it.

About him.

Once upon a time, you and him had been at odds with each other, a battle of sharp words and stubborn ideals. He was relentless, fiercely determined, a mind constantly working ten steps ahead. And you—well, you were the opposite. Passionate, chaotic, diving headfirst into the unknown with little concern for anything but discovery.

But now?

Now he was yours.

And God, you loved him.

“Stop working,” you whined, dramatically flopping onto his desk.

He barely spared you a glance, eyes still locked onto the notebook in front of him. “Can’t.”

“You always say that,” you huffed, watching as he furiously jotted down another equation, his pen moving like it had a will of its own.

“Because it’s always true,” he shot back, voice carrying that familiar unwavering certainty.

You rolled your eyes. “Five-minute break.”

“No.”

“Two minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, tilting your head at him. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t take two minutes to—” You peered at his notes and blinked. “Wait. Is this…” You trailed off, recognizing the layout of a physics equation, the bold scrawl of hypotheses scattered between calculations.

He finally glanced at you, the sharp glint of his focus not dulled in the slightest. “I had a thought earlier and needed to get it down.”

You stared at him. “You had a thought so urgent that you couldn’t even pause for two seconds?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re crazy”

“And you’re distracting.”

“You love me, though.”

A flicker of something softened his expression. He didn’t answer immediately, just studied you with those impossibly sharp eyes, the ones that always seemed to be unraveling the mysteries of the universe—except, in that moment, they were solely on you.

“Yeah,” he murmured eventually, the intensity of it making your breath catch. “I do.”

It was rare, hearing it outright like that. He wasn’t one for grand proclamations, but when he did speak—when he let himself be honest—it always hit you like a tidal wave.

You swallowed, warmth pooling in your chest. “Then take a break.”

He sighed, exasperated but amused. Then, to your utter delight, he set his pen down.

“Two minutes,” he relented.

You grinned, holding out your arms. “Hug me.”

He stared. “…Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, like he was analyzing the request for its deeper meaning. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pulled you against him.

You melted instantly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms were strong, steady—the kind of embrace that felt unshakable, like he would hold the entire world together if it meant keeping you safe.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded against him. “Much.”

His fingers lingered at your back, just the faintest trace of hesitation before he fully gave in, relaxing into the embrace.

And neither of you let go.

Dating him had been an adjustment.

He wasn’t the kind to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was driven, always looking forward, always chasing after the next big thing. His brain never stopped, his heart never wavered, his ambition burning like an unstoppable fire.

Which meant he showed affection in his own way.

Like the way he never actually said I love you, but instead muttered things like, don’t forget to eat or stay inside, it’s cold.

Like the way he pretended to be annoyed when you interrupted his work, only to immediately pull you back when you tried to leave.

Like the way he sighed every time you teased him, only to let you lace your fingers with his under desks, his grip never faltering.

And the thing was?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One evening, you were in the library together, him completely immersed in his research while you doodled aimlessly in your notebook.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that had become second nature between you.

Then, suddenly—

“…You make me reckless.”

You blinked. “Uh. Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You make me reckless,” he repeated, almost contemplative. “It’s irritating.”

You squinted at him. “Are you… saying you love me?”

He hummed. “Statistically, it would be hard to deny.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. “Oh my God.”

He finally looked up, arching a brow. “What?”

“You just confessed your love for me like it was a scientific fact.”

“…And?”

You let out a laugh, completely endeared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed. If anything, there was something fond in the way he regarded you, something soft in the way he reached out, tapping his fingers against your wrist.

“…You already knew,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

Because of course you knew.

You had known for a long time now.

But hearing it—even in his own, methodical way—still sent warmth flooding through your entire being.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I did.”

And if he squeezed your hand just a little tighter?

Well.

You didn’t mention it.

#arcane x reader #arcane #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #sevika x reader #lesbian #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane headcanon #arcane imagines #x reader #jinx x reader #wlw

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senascoop · 7 hours ago

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ꣀ꣒ WHEN YOU’RE ALL THAT THEY WANT IN THIS LIFE . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎

pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), comfort core . . . word count, 200-300 each . . . [LIBRARY]

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

“It’s okay, I can do this.” You mutter, determination laced in your voice as you struggle to pull your top over your head. The door is shut, the room quiet except for your frustrated sighs. Your fractured hand, wrapped tightly in a cast, throbs slightly, but the real pain isn’t physical. It’s the creeping frustration, the helplessness, the way twenty minutes have passed and you’re still stuck, half-dressed, fingers trembling. It’s just a bra. A simple t-shirt. But why does it feel impossible? Your throat tightens. Useless. The word sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and cruel.

“Baby, I’m coming in.” Heeseung’s voice is gentle, the door creaking open before you can protest. His gaze lands on your bare back, and though he can’t see your face, he knows—you’re frowning, lips pursed, probably on the verge of tears. “It’s just me, hmm?” His voice is soft as he steps forward, hands finding your shoulders. He carefully turns you to face him, and even as warmth creeps up his neck, he forces himself to focus—on you, not the vulnerability of your exposed skin. Heeseung swallows, picking up your bra with careful fingers. But his heart clenches when he finally sees your teary eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks, voice laced with concern.

You look down, shame curling in your stomach. “I feel so useless… I can’t even dress myself properly. My hand keeps getting in the way.” His brows knit together as he helps you clasp the bra, then effortlessly pulls the t-shirt over your head. His touch is careful, deliberate—like he’s afraid you might break further. When he’s done, Heeseung cups your cheeks, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Stop thinking that,” he murmurs. “This is temporary, hmm? But what’s permanent is my love for you.” His gaze holds yours, steady and full of warmth—reminding you that even when you feel weak, he sees you as nothing less than strong.

. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박종성 !

You carefully mixed the ingredients, your hands coated in the strong, pungent scent of kimchi as you worked beside your future mother-in-law. You had always wanted to learn how to make it, especially for Jay. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d react to your homemade kimchi one day, even if you still weren’t sure when that "someday" would be. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it.” You muttered to yourself as you worked, following her instructions. From the doorway, you could hear Jay laughing lightly, chatting with his mom about something—probably teasing each other, the way they always did.

It made your heart warm to see them getting along so easily, and you couldn’t help but think about how one day, this might be your family too. Jay caught your eye and smiled, his eyes softening as he watched you. You knew the look—the one that said he could picture a future with you, one where you were part of his world, just as you were becoming part of his family. “I’m so glad you’re learning to make this,” Jay said, his voice low, as he came closer. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warmth a reminder of how much he loved you. “You know,” he continued, his tone teasing, “I think my mom’s kimchi is the best. But your version might be a close second.” You laughed softly. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !

You sighed, staring at the crumpled bills in your wallet. The numbers weren’t adding up—again. How were pads this expensive? Weren’t they a necessity? You let out a frustrated groan, popping another piece of chocolate into your mouth. Maybe that was part of the problem too. You could survive without snacks, but during that time of the month? Impossible. You rested your head on the kitchen counter, already dreading the rest of the month.

“My money is your money. Stop calculating.” Jake’s voice startled you. You turned to see him standing at the bedroom door, arms crossed, eyes still half-lidded from sleep. His hair was messy, his shirt slightly wrinkled, but his smirk was sharp, full of amusement. “Yeah, but—” Before you could finish, he was behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. His chin rested on your shoulder as he swayed you slightly, the warmth of his body making it hard to focus on why this still didn’t feel right.

“But what?” he murmured. “You do know I plan on marrying you, right?” Your breath hitched. “Jake—” “Nope. No arguments.” He spun you around effortlessly, hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, his grin softening into something more sincere. “That means my money is already yours, dummy.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he only tapped your lips. “Nope. Not hearing it.” You huffed. “You’re impossible.” “And you love me for it.” He kissed your forehead before stepping back. “Now, should we go get you more chocolate too?” Damn him and his boyfriend privileges.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

“Where is he…” you mumble, scanning the crowd anxiously. Sunghoon isn’t good with places like this—too many people, too much noise. You had only left for a few minutes to grab snacks, but now, the once calm area had become packed with people swarming to see a panda. Then you spot him. He’s stiff, standing awkwardly near a signpost, his hands clenched into nervous fists. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his shoulders rising slightly with tension. His gaze flickers around like he’s calculating an escape route, but his eyes widen the moment they land on you. You don’t waste a second, weaving through the bodies until you reach him.

The second your hand finds his, he flinches—but when he realizes it’s you, his grip tightens. Relief washes over his face as you quickly guide him out of the crowd. The moment you’re in the clear, you pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, you got stuck because of me.” Sunghoon shakes his head, still catching his breath. “It’s not your fault. I mean… I was the one who got hungry.” He mutters, trying to act tough, but the pink dusting his cheeks gives him away. Then, in a quieter voice, he mumbles, “But I’m glad it was you who found me. Otherwise, I’d look like a lost kid.” You grin, poking his flushed cheek. “You kinda already did.” “Shut up.” He groans, but the way he squeezes your hand says otherwise.

. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !

You leaned your head against Sunoo’s shoulder, wincing slightly as the throbbing in your foot made itself known. You never imagined that something so small could cause this much trouble. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it made it impossible to walk without cringing. Despite your attempts to be independent, Sunoo had insisted on helping, his voice filled with concern. “I told you to be careful.” His tone was teasing but laced with care. You sighed, not wanting to feel helpless. “I was careful! It just… happened.” He chuckled, a soft, comforting sound, as he gently adjusted his hold around you. Even though you were leaning heavily against him, you couldn’t help but notice how strong he was—certainly stronger than you’d expected.

Sunoo was never the bulky type; he wasn’t exactly a gym freak, and you loved him just the way he was. Still, the way he effortlessly lifted you into his arms made you pause. “Are you sure you’re not secretly training for a superhero role?” You teased, letting your voice be light despite the discomfort. “Maybe.” He smirked down at you, carrying you up the stairs with ease. “But my real superpower is making sure you’re always taken care of.” You laughed softly, your heart fluttering at his words. “Well, you’re doing a great job.” He winked, eyes sparkling with affection. “I know.” As he laid you down gently on the bed, his touch lingering on your side, you couldn’t help but feel thankful—not just for his strength, but for the way he always knew how to make you feel safe, even when life threw you off balance.

. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !

You lay in bed, limbs heavy, the fever wrapping around you like an unbearable weight. Every inch of your body ached, exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. You didn’t remember when exactly your eyes had closed, only that the loneliness of being sick made the world feel quieter, emptier. When you woke up, it wasn’t silence that greeted you—it was a familiar voice, soft yet laced with worry. “You scared me when you didn’t pick up your phone.” Your vision blurred slightly as you tried to focus.

Jungwon stood beside your bed, a warm cloth in his hand, dabbing your forehead. In his other hand was a bowl of soup, the steam curling in the air. You blinked, groggy, then turned to your phone on the nightstand. Ten missed calls. Your throat felt dry. “How’d you know?” Jungwon sighed, dipping the spoon into the soup before carefully bringing it to your lips. “Because you always pick up. And when you don’t, it means something’s wrong.” The first sip was surprisingly sweet, warming your throat, easing the discomfort in your chest.

You hummed in appreciation, and a small, satisfied smile tugged at Jungwon’s lips. “This is… really good,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “Of course it is. I made it,” he said, feigning smugness before his expression softened. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your warm skin. “Good thing, though… your temperature feels normal now.” His touch, gentle and reassuring, made something inside you melt. “Jungwon…” “Shh.” He shook his head. “No need to thank me. Taking care of you is kinda my full-time job.” You let out a tired chuckle. “Oh? Do you get paid for this?” He grinned. “Yeah. Your love is enough.”

. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !

“Don’t stop,” Riki mumbles, voice laced with exhaustion as your fingers glide through his soft hair. His head rests on your chest, his body melting into yours as he finally lets himself be taken care of—for once. You feel the tension leave his shoulders with every stroke, his breathing slowing, steadying. “It feels like my stress is fading away…” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper. You let out a soft chuckle, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “Then just stay like this,” you say, shifting slightly before tossing a leg over his, pulling him impossibly closer. He lets out a content sigh, nuzzling deeper into you, the warmth between you two making the rest of the world disappear. “Hmmpf…” he hums, voice drowsy, before mumbling, “I can’t wait to live with you forever.”

His words come out so naturally, like a thought slipping past his lips before he can even second-guess it. Your heart stutters. “Wouldn’t you get annoyed?” you tease, though there’s a genuine question hidden underneath. “Like those couples who grow tired of each other?” Riki immediately lifts his head, eyes blinking up at you in pure offense before peppering your face with soft, lazy kisses—your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “Never,” he mumbles against your skin, before sighing and resting his head back against your chest, fingers curling into your shirt. You smile as he wraps his arms around you, holding you like you’re his whole world. Because, in truth, you are.

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theetherealbloom · 1 day ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.

You didn’t notice him watching you.

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.

He felt something tighten in his chest.

God, you made him feel strange.

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.

His response came almost immediately.

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.

You: Are you sure?

Pedro: Obviously.

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

Pedro noticed.

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.

And then, of course, there was the teasing.

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."

He smirked. "Clearly."

"Don’t judge me."

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Your heart stuttered.

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."

You told yourself not to react.

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”

You had only sighed. “I know.”

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”

His brows knit together. “You okay?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”

Pedro didn’t look convinced.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then—

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.

You hesitated.

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”

Cecilia.

You felt your whole body go rigid.

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”

You swallowed hard.

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”

The implication was clear.

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.

But then—

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered.

It was subtle, but you caught it.

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.

Warm. Steady.

Grounding.

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”

Your stomach twisted.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”

Pedro stopped walking.

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”

You swallowed.

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”

A lump formed in your throat.

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”

You snorted. “So dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”

“Maybe.”

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”

Something in you wavered.

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”

Your breath hitched.

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”

Something tightened in your chest.

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader masterlist #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x plus size reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal series masterlist

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shawtylex09 · 3 days ago

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HIYAAA could you maybe do something about teacher izuku with pro hero girlfriend/wife?? I was thinking of a scenario where his partner is always staying up, working on some hero stuff and he tries to lure her into bed to rest. Maybe include a making out session :3

Hiiii!!! I was literally gone all day doing things, so lemme cook you up someone good pookie. 💚

Slight smut warning. 18+

You sat in your office, a hand running through your messy hair and your eyes stinging with lack of sleep. A heavy sigh slipped passed your lips as you dragged your hand down your face, glancing at the clock.

1:47 am.

Wonderful.

You still had quite a bit of paperwork to go through, and some emails to draft, and you’d been sitting at the goddamn desk since 10 pm.

“That’s what I get for being a procrastinator.”

You mumbled to yourself, sighing heavily and grabbing your pen again, continuing your painful paperwork.

You had been deep in your work, until you felt eyes on you. Your eyes flicked to your right, where you saw your lover, Izuku Midoriya, standing there.

“Sweetheart..what are you doing awake? You have to be awake for school in a few hours..”

You mumbled, your brows furrowing with concern as you spun in your chair, facing the tired man you called your boyfriend.

Izuku wasn’t wearing his glasses. His hair tousled and his tee (that was yours that he stole.) was loosely hanging off of one shoulder. He didn’t bother wearing pants to bed, the shirt was long enough to reach his upper thigh anyway, the black boxers wrapping around his muscular thighs.

“Come to bed..”

He mumbled, rubbing his eye with a slight pout on his face. It was obvious he was displeased with your current position in your office chair, and not in bed, holding him.

“Baby, I’ve got work I gotta do”

You said as a smile pulled at your lips, seeing your boyfriend sleepy and more than ready to have you in his arms warmed your heart.

Izuku whined in protest, walking over to you and grabbing your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Please..? You’ve been working all evening..I haven’t been able to see you because of your paperwork..and it’s already 2 in the morning..”

Your boyfriend mumbled, pressing a few feather light, and sickeningly sweet kisses to your knuckles.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, cupping his cheek with the hand he’d been kissing.

“Zuku, I need to finish my work. Why don’t you go lay down okay? I’ll be back in bed when I finish up these papers.”

Your tired eyes dragged to the desk as you gestured to the stack of papers, sitting on the desk and taunting you with the task of finishing them.

Izuku frowned, then, an idea popped into his head, and he grinned mischeviously. You looked up just to see your boyfriend shifting to sit in your lap.

You blushed and gently placed your hands on the sides of his thighs, feeling his boxers under your touch.

“Izuku..”

You said softly, slowly shifting your hands back around to the plump curve of his ass. Izuku blushed softly and cupped your cheeks, his calloused thumbs running over your skin with a careful touch.

You smiled a little and gave his rear a playful squeeze, Izuku rolling his eyes as you did so. He leaned in closer to your face, tilting his head to the side

“Why do you love squeezing my ass?..you weirdo..”

You laughed softly and shrugged, a grin gracing your features as you gently groped his plush curve.

“It’s not my fault you’re so curvy baby”

You whispered softly, to which Izuku blushed, glancing away as you leaned closer to his face.

“Shut up..don’t say that kinda thing..”

He muttered shyly, his eyes moving to yours. You smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Well, at least let me show you how pretty you look, baby”

And with that, you pressed your lips to his. Izuku’s lipd were slightly chapped from him chewing on them, but they still had a certain softness that left you wanting more and more each time you kissed.

Izuku groaned softly, his hands moving to your shoulders, his fingers slightly digging into the fabric of your shirt as he kissed you with equal passion.

You softly bit his bottom lip, a whine leaving him and making you break the kiss only to chuckle, then your lips found his once again.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, sliding his fingers under it to feel the smith skin of your abdomen under his fingers.

Meanwhile, your hands moved to his thighs, gripping the curves and planes of his smooth skin, only covered by his boxers, which held a tent from his manhood.

You smirked while you broke the kiss, looking up at him as you ran a finger over the bulge in his boxers.

Izuku whined and bresthlessly moaned as you rubbed his tip through his boxers, giving you a half lidded, needy gaze.

“Sweetheart..don’t tease me please…”

He whispered, a flush on his soft, freckled cheeks.

You laughed softly and smiled up at him, a mischievous grin settling on your lips.

God you loved his whiny tone and flustered expression.

“Cmon, let’s take this to our bedroom, yeah?”

You asked, not wanting to tease him too badly, but also enjoying your affect on his body- seeing the way he physically responded to your touch definitely excited you.

Izuku vigorously nodded at your words, gripping your shirt tightly as a deeper red coated his cheeks. He knew what the hazy look in your eyes meant for him, and he felt a pit of heat grow in his stomach.

“Yes- yes let’s go”

Izuku gasped as you picked him up, loving being manhandled, even if you weren’t necessarily rough with him.

He knew he was in for a long night.

Ty for the ask, ilyyyyy!!!

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bybobbysbeard · 3 days ago

Text

First Rise

Day 2 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: cooking together. read on ao3

God, what a long day.

It’s shifts like these that make Tommy feel every one of his 45 years. None of the calls were particularly brutal, but they were long. He should have been home hours ago. He definitely put in enough flight time to warrant every second of the 48 off he’s about to share with Evan. The nylon strap of his overnight duffle digs into his shoulder. His feet hurt. He’s got a headache. All he wants to do is crash on Evan’s couch, snuggle, and watch some trash TV.

He opens the door to the loft and catches the tail end of a frantic sentence. Maddie’s face is tiny on Evan’s phone, propped up against a pile of cookbooks. Even from here, Tommy can see her cheeks are flushed, and she's gesturing wildly with a free hand. Evan has his hands up too, but he’s making soothing movements, trying to bring her energy down.

Tommy’s frazzled brain tunes back into the conversation.

“It’s fine Maddie, we didn’t have plans to go out tonight, I promise. And you know I’d do anything for Jee. Oh! Tommy just got here. Let me get some food into him, and then I’ll get started right away. Will Chim be able to pick them up tomorrow morning? If I set it to run overnight, I can probably squeeze out an extra loaf. Maybe… four in total.” Evan waves a distracted hand at Tommy, already turning to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. A few sticks of butter, a block of bright orange cheddar, and a glass tupperware of last night's chicken stir-fry are gently placed on the counter.

“Oh Buck, are you sure? I am so sorry for the late notice, I swear, pregnancy brain has me forgetting my own name.”

“I am one-hundred percent sure. In fact, I have a bag of flour that’s been hanging around that I should really finish off, so honestly, you’re doing me a favor.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I have to run, but I’ll make sure Chim knows. I’m sure he’ll text you in the morning.”

“Anytime Mads. Have fun tonight!” Buck waves, adorably, at the phone before Maddie pokes at something on her end and it goes back to Evan’s lockscreen. It’s a snapshot of him and Tommy, all smiles and sunglasses, bare shoulders in the summer sunshine. They had hiked for hours, up and down Mount Wilson. Tommy had gotten such a sunburn. It gives him a strange feeling in his gut when he looks at it; guilty, but heavy with relief.

It’s from months ago. Before he ran. Before he got his head out of his ass and realized he was sabotaging the only chance at real happiness he would ever have. Before they came back together, had an honest conversation full of shouting and tears, and decided to try again.

Tommy steps into the kitchen, brushing a kiss over Evan’s cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist in a quick hug. Evan leans into him, humming softly and releasing a blustery sigh.

“Let me drop my bag upstairs, and you can tell me what all that was about.” Tommy murmurs into a stubbly cheek. Evan nods.

He drags his tired body up the loft stairs, and leaves his duffle at the foot of the bed. A quick trip into the ensuite to wash his face and grab some aspirin has him feeling moderately more human.

When he makes it back downstairs, Evan is still getting ingredients out, but he’s moved onto the pantry. Bread flour, salt, sugar, and yeast are spread over the counter. In the next second he’s bent at the waist, digging under the counter and sending pots and pans clanging. He straightens up, biceps bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt, before setting a chrome monstrosity of an appliance on the counter. Evan flips the lid, pulling out a squarish pan with a handle.

“I didn’t realize you had a breadmaker.”

“Yeah, I bought it a while ago.” His gaze stays focused on the appliance, but his shoulders are creeping up towards his ears. He’s defensive. Probably bought it when they were on their break. When they got back together, Tommy heard plenty from Howie and Hen about Evan’s baking escapades. He’s still weirdly embarrassed by it, but Tommy thinks it's sweet. His boyfriend missed him enough to nearly start a side business. Meanwhile, Tommy just wallowed. Evan is still talking. “It’s surprisingly useful, and super easy. I guess Jee’s daycare is having a bake sale, and Jee was telling her group about the cheese bread I made over the holidays, so Maddie said I would bake a few loaves for them to sell, but then forgot to tell me.”

“And the bake sale is tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Evan pops the p, plugging in the breadmaker. “And she promised Sue from Dispatch a visit with Jee tonight. So, Uncle Buck to the rescue. Alright, let’s see. It’s two o’clock. I could probably make two loaves in the machine before bed, including cooling time, and then it can do another overnight. And I could make one by hand too, I guess.”

An electric thermometer joins a pyrex measuring cup next to the sink. “Is there anything I can do?”

Evan scoffs, “Tommy, come on. I can see how exhausted you are. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll heat up these leftovers for you, and then you can nap while I make bread. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t offer to help if I didn’t want to. At least let me help get the machine going. You said it yourself, it’s super easy.”

Evan stares, visibly weighing his fatigue against his honesty.

“Okay.” He slides a paper index card across the counter. “Make sure you layer everything according to this. It can change how the yeast activates.”

Evan’s chicken scratch is messy, but legible. The instructions are detailed, nearly overly so, but Tommy’s tired enough to appreciate it. He doesn’t want to have to do any improvising tonight. Evan’s got his mixer out, and is carefully measuring out warm water and yeast into the bowl. Tommy grabs the thermometer. A cup of water, warmed to eighty degrees, goes into the baking pan, followed by butter, chopped into cubes, and salt and sugar. Evan hands him the cheese grater before he can ask for it. Tommy yawns his way through grating a cup full. They trade ingredients. Evan needs the sugar, and it's time to spread the flour in the baking pan.

Soon the kitchen smells like blooming yeast and melted butter. It’s domestic; takes him back to slow Sunday mornings with his mom. If Tommy wasn’t so tired, he would enjoy it more. They dance around each other, Tommy stumbling more than once when Evan moves unexpectedly and his slowed reflexes make him lag a half step behind. Nonetheless, they pass off tablespoons and cup measurers until Evan carefully tips his dough into a greased bowl and lays a tea towel over it. He sets a timer on his phone. Tommy taps out the last of the yeast grains into the little divot he made in the final layer of shredded cheese. He caps the jar, and yawns so widely his jaw cracks. Evan’s watching him and wincing.

“Okay, thank you for helping, but you are done.”

“Baby, I’m–” another jaw-cracking yawn, “--fine. I can keep going.”

“I know you can. But this pan is ready to go in the machine, my dough needs its first rise, and you need to eat.”

A steaming plate of chicken stir-fry is set in front of him. Maybe he is more tired than he thought, he didn't even notice Evan putting it in the microwave. He makes his way through most of the meal while Evan tidies up and loads the breadmaker. He leaves the last few mouthfuls, totally distracted with watching his boyfriend. He’s so at home in the kitchen. At ease. He has everything he needs within reach, and he’s done all of the motions so many times, they seem like muscle memory. It’s a privilege to see him so comfortable.

Soon, Tommy’s resting his chin on a palm and his eyes are closing without his permission. It's toasty in the kitchen, and the breadmaker makes a soothing rumble as it kneads. It lulls him into a doze. Eventually, a heavy palm lands on his back and makes him blink. Then there’s a muscled shoulder sliding under his arm and leveraging him to his feet. He leans heavily against the warm body keeping him upright.

Soft lips press against his temple and the arm around his back jostles him to wakefulness. “You want the couch or the bed for your nap?”

“Hmm. Couch. Wanna be close. And the bed's too far.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” A few uncoordinated steps before they find their rhythm, and then Tommy is being lowered. Well-worn leather meets his back. A fuzzy blanket is shaken out and smoothed over his legs and a calloused hand strokes over his hair. Tommy’s never felt this cared for in his life. Evan smells like flour, like fresh bread. Like a warm kitchen, and handmade food for a loved one.

He smells like home.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #tevan #my fic #911 abc

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qqueenofhades · 3 days ago

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Genuine question, since I'm another person your recent posts have inspired to contact government officials: why is calling the best method? Is it because constant phone traffic disrupts everything else, the idea that people people only call about things they really care about, or something else that isn't apparent to me? I'm really curious as to how this particular feature of government works.

And thank you again for maintaining hope while still spreading awareness. Kindness ripples outwards to touch many lives. Anyway, here's a picture of my service dog being real confused about what we're supposed to be looking at.

Calling is the best method because congressional staffers actively monitor the number of constituent calls that they receive on [x] issue and have to present that information to their congresscritter on a usually-weekly basis. Whereas emails can easily be responded to with a form letter/go straight to junk/dismissed as a crank/etc. However, I want to emphasize that again, any contact and any proactive action to make your concerns known to your elected officials is better than none. If you are scared to call and want to do an email first to get the hang of it: that is okay! You are still forcing SOMETHING into the system and at least making them register your email. I am not here to shame anyone for taking the steps that feel best to them at first.

Calling is also important as a blue-leaning person because red voters call/badger elected officials more often and have no shame about doing it, so this is the one time you have to channel your inner Republican and make a stink at elected officials. It does work and consistent public pressure/feedback can move important votes and actions either left or right. I do not expect everybody to spend all their time calling their elected officials about every single outrageous thing Trump/Musk/et al are doing, because otherwise you would be doing nothing but. Pick a few issues and monitor them and see what you need to do and who you need to pressure, but if you also need to take a break for your mental health, do that too. That way if there is something you really feel that you have to speak out on at once, you will be more ready to do it and more ready to engage over a longer period of time, rather than just in spasmodic rage bursts about whatever outrage of the day they've cooked up now.

(Also, what a good puppy. Not patting because they are working hard and I respect that, but yes.)

#the-kazoo-kid #ask #the national nightmare

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hyperfocusthusly · 2 days ago

Text

My Hero

@bucktommyfluffebruary - Day three prompt ‘Spider-Man kiss’

Notes: established relationship, domestic fluff | rated: G | Words: 511

[Read on A03]

——-

Tommy remembers a moment too late that he had left his coffee mug on the floor next to the bed. His socked foot collides with it, sending the dark brown contents spilling g across the cream carpet of their bedroom. He sighs, scrubbing his palms over his face.

It’s going to be one of those days.

It had felt like forever since his and Evan’s shifts had lined up, weeks of just missing each other. The same Evan who is splayed out on their bed, head hanging off the edge halfway asleep. He had twitched at Tommy’s curse to the coffee mug and didn’t stir any further as Tommy rummaged around in the bathroom for something to clean the rapidly forming stain. He glanced at his watch, he only had a few minutes before he needed to leave for his shift. He returned to the bedroom and got down on the floor, scrubbing at the carpet. Evan shifted, eyes flickering open.

“W’tre you doing?” He asks, voice thick with sleep.

“I spilled my coffee, need to clean it or the stain will set.”

“Leave it, I’ll do it.”

Tommy chews on his lip, looks over at his inverse boyfriend.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, you’ve got your shift.”

“Mmm, I do need to go.” He stands, clenching his jaw. It was just an accident, he knows that, but he can’t help but feel bad for leaving Evan a mess to clean up.

“Hey,” Evan’s soft tone draws him out of his thoughts “it’s okay, really. You clean up after me all the time.” Evan’s hands reach out to him, the angle making his movements awkward. He grasps at the fabric of Tommy’s trousers pulling him a step closer to the bed.

Tommy laughs, the anxiety in his chest easing at the sight of his flailing boyfriend.

“Evan,” he tries not to trip over the cup for the second time, falls forward instead. He finds himself leaning over Evan, staring down at the expanse of his bare chest. Evan’s hands climb up his body, finding purchase around the back of his neck.

“The mess is fine, but I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t get my goodnight kiss before you go.”

Tommy chuckles,

“Oh yeah, and we’re going to do it like this?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Evan pulls him down until their lips meet, Tommy can feel Evan’s nose bumping against his chin. His tongue flicks up into his mouth, exploring the new angles. Tommy melts into it, almost forgetting that he has to go to work. He ignores the protest his back is putting up at his current position and runs his hands along Evan’s flanks, coming to rest on his shoulders. He soaks up the small needy noises that Evan is making, pressing deeper.

When his watch bleeps he groans,

“Sorry baby, as much as I love playing spider man with you, I do have to go to work.”

“Go on then. Be safe.” Evan gazes at him through half lidded eyes, a flush spread across his cheeks.

“My hero.”

Tag list (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed);

@leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

#bucktommy fluffebruary #prompt: Spider-Man kiss #domestic fluff #writing kissing is my Achilles heel actually #bucktommy #911 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #my writing

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loveandpeaceanddoughnuts · 3 days ago

Note

Hiiii I recently found your account and love your writing.

Would you be able to write something angsty for Levi where the reader gets seriously injured while out on a mission? I’d like it to be really angsty but whatever you want to do I’m good with!

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much for your kind words and this request!! I've dabbled in angst here and there, but this is definitely the darkest I've gone. I was surprised to find I really enjoyed writing it! Maybe there's more angst in my future hm...

Anyways THANK YOU again for sending this, I love hearing from readers and love requests! I'm sorry that it took me so long to get back to you, I hope you still see this and that you enjoy it if you do!

don't fall away from me: Levi x Scout!Reader angst

[tw: hurt/no comfort, heavy angst as requested!, injury/gore, spoilers for No Regrets, mentioned (not actual) vomiting // wc: 2k // ao3 // set before the fall of Shiganshina]

It wasn't often that you and Levi were separated for missions these days. A combination of luck and called-in favors from the Captain meant that most days and nights you were by each other's side, sometimes worse for wear, but together, at least.

But luck didn't last forever, and Levi wasn't all-powerful. You had been sent on a long-term mission beyond the walls, leading a troop of Scouts to establish an outpost farther than the Regiment had ever been able to put down roots. It was risky, but if successful, would pay off immediately, filling in new corners of the Eldian map. Levi stayed behind, part of Erwin's private detail as the Commander lobbied for more funding.

Levi hated it. Hated the pompous bastards he had to deal with, the tasteless displays of wealth in the inner walls, and worst of all, that it kept him from you. But you had reassured him as you always did, strong arms around his neck and soft lips against his. "I'll be home soon, Levi. Wait for me." He saw your squad off, raised his hand in a stern wave, watching until you and your horse disappeared over the horizon.

It wouldn't last forever, he reminded himself. You were tough. So was he- a few weeks away was nothing in the grand scheme of things. And he'd seen you take down enough titans to know that they should be afraid of you. The memory made his chest swell with a quiet pride. You were a damn good soldier, and you were his. He'd make sure to remind you of both when you came home.

That was the hope that kept Levi patient as he waited out the weeks. Once the political posturing was over, he took his stress out on the spiders that had taken up residence in the rafters of the scouts' barracks. Hange was heard laughing quietly to Moblit that HQ was always cleanest when you were away. Luckily for them, Levi didn't overhear, too busy chasing his worry away with a dustrag.

The morning of your squad's return dawned clear, the sun cresting the Walls like it anticipated your arrival as much as Levi did. The Captain had been up before then- fussing over his hair and straightening his cravat needlessly, wanting to appear cool and calm when he rode out to meet you. You were sure to tease him otherwise. It had become something of a game to see who could spot the other first at your homecomings, waiting just inside the gate or, if impatience got the best of you, riding out to meet the other on some pretense.

He sipped from the teacup between his fingers, hiding a smile as he thought about the look on your face. Your eyes always lit up, your grim on-duty expression melting into relief, excitement- love, when you saw him again. He was almost sure it was love. Little as he knew about the subject, anyway. Hoped it was, would've prayed it was if he had any faith. Because Levi loved you. He hadn't admitted it yet, but the weeks of separation had shown him just how much he had grown to rely on you, to cherish your shared moments, the light you shone in the dark corners of his life.

Maybe he didn't need to seem cool and calm, this time. He allowed himself to believe that you'd missed him as much as he missed you. That certainty carried the Captain to his horse, through the gates, out on a hard ride through the outskirts of the walled city, until he saw the blurry forms of your squad through the morning mist. His carefully fixed hair fell back into messy bangs across his forehead as he urged his horse faster, his body taut with both exertion and excitement. You were almost home.

He searched for your face in the crowd of green-cloaked soldiers to no avail. Maybe you were scouting ahead, or keeping watch from the rear. He shook off the icy tendrils of fear that crept down his neck. Surely that was all. Levi looked to the rest of your squad, but they didn't meet his eyes. Some of them limped, some held bandaged limbs, others leaned on their comrades. The tendrils turned into choking vines.

Levi reared his horse in front of the ragged procession and leveled them with a glare. "Where is she?" Silence. He gritted his teeth, his voice a sword. "I won't repeat myself."

A single Scout stepped out from the ranks. Levi recognized her as a young recruit; this would have been one of her first missions. She gestured at a covered wagon hitched to the horse behind her. "She saved us, Captain." The girl's voice wavered, then broke. "We wouldn't be here if she hadn't-"

Levi didn't know if she finished her sentence. He was already off his horse and shoving past her, his mind a wall of white noise. Somehow he was standing beside the wagon, ripping the cover back with shaking hands-

In the days and weeks that followed, every Scout from that ill-fated mission would swear on their lives that the Captain maintained his composure in that moment. Whether in solidarity or out of the fear that came from watching the collapse of something unbreakable. Every last person there that day would deny that they ever heard Levi sob.

The sound tore from him helplessly, choked horror in the back of his throat. Your bloodless lips were parted, your hair strewn across the packs of gear they’d propped you on. Your arms lay limply atop a rough blanket that hid everything below your chest. When Levi reached for your hand, pressing it to his cheek, you were cold. He whispered your name, but you didn’t stir.

With effort, Levi tore his gaze from your body and whirled on the soldier that had revealed you. “Tell me what happened.”

In fits and starts, she managed the story. It had happened so fast, she said, the night watch asleep in the newly constructed outpost, the early sunrise revealing a trio of titans surrounding the camp, all teeth and eager eyes. 15m class and hungry, scrabbling at their tents, waking up to a nightmare.

You had slept in your gear- Levi clenched his fists against a sudden surge of nausea. You always teased him about his habit, sleeping sitting up or fully clothed, ready for anything. But out there, on your own, you had done the same. Did you think of him as you fell asleep? The girl was still speaking, her gaze far away. You had sprung into action, using the titans themselves as anchors to fly at their nape out there in the vast flatness of the wild.

You dispatched two quickly- of course, Levi thought, of course she did- but the third- the girl stopped to drag the back of her hand across her mouth, swallowing a dry heave. Levi had to resist the urge to shake her, to make her keep talking- but she soon continued in a whisper.

"The last titan caught her in it's teeth. It was a blur, we didn't see, only heard a- heard a snap, and a scream... we cut it's Achilles tendons, brought it to it's knees, and she fell..." The scout trailed off, her jaw working soundlessly as she remembered. "The wound, wounds- they weren't clean, sir." Her voice was a strained apology. She wobbled, clearly spent, and Levi turned away.

He stepped back toward the wagon where you lay. Levi took a slow breath, reaching into the depths of himself to find the strength to look at what hid beneath the blanket. He peeled it back, hissing through his teeth when the fabric caught on patches of drying, tacky blood.

It took a moment for Levi to process what he was seeing. Your lower body was a torn mess of crimson, contrasting hideously against the stark white of exposed bone protruding from your mangled calf. He could see the titan's attack written on your flesh- the purpling crush of teeth along your thighs and the shredded aftermath of those jaws tearing down to your ankles. The smears of dirt and gore told him how you were dragged along, out of the titan's clenching jaw, off the battlefield.

This is a dream. A nightmare. Levi told himself, clinging to it with a childish desperation that he thought had been beaten out of him long ago. He tried to swallow but his throat had gone cotton-dry. His tongue cleaved mute to the roof of his mouth. This isn't real.

He blinked, and suddenly it was Furlan in your shredded uniform, or you in his. A dizzy panic clawed up Levi's chest. He shook his head, looked away and back- and the scene changed. The hollowed pallor of your cheeks was that of his mother's corpse, a dim memory of hell. He thought he might be sick, thought wildly that he couldn't vomit in front of the other Scouts, couldn't let them see such filthy weakness- but that was forgotten when you opened your eyes.

You stared blindly at the wide, wide sky, and Levi saw Isabel in your place. Not again. Please, not again. He watched your chest rise and fall like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth, like he was the one willing it to continue. Please.

"Le-vi...?" Your voice shocked him into sanity. He cupped your cheeks in trembling hands.

"I'm here, I'm here," he rasped. "I've got you. Stay with me."

You slowly dragged your fingers through the blood on your uniform, then held them in front of your face. You didn't seem to understand where it came from, what had happened. Levi moved into your sightline. You reached for him, but your head lolled and your arm fell back in the next instant. Levi caught your hand and lifted it the rest of the way, pressing your bloody fingers to his lips.

"I'm here," he repeated, fixated again on the defiant movement of your chest as you slipped back into unconsciousness. "I'll protect you."

The other soldiers were shuffling about, some trying to quiet their nervous horses. Levi forced himself to inject authority into his voice, to project some stability on the surface as he crumbled within, never taking his eyes from your face. "I'm riding back with you. Let's go."

Eager to go home, the camp moved quickly at his order. Someone hitched Levi's horse to the wagon were you lay, seeing that the Captain wasn't about to leave your side.

Your body seemed to shift before Levi's eyes, a mist poured into the shape of the ones he had already failed, already lost. Their corpses laid atop yours, or beside you, or sprawled at your feet until he forced them away, the sight of your breathing like a talisman. Your blood dried and flaked on his cheek, but he hardly felt the itch. His cravat lay abandoned on the filthy floor.

Every jolt of the wheels made him grit his teeth, fighting down a surge of rage at the horses, the stones that made them stumble, the ground itself for not softening for you. He wanted to carry you home himself, wanted to tear off his own legs and offer them up for you. He wanted to wake up.

He spoke to you, the words pouring out, unstoppable. Vows to protect you, spiraling into impossibility- he'd kill every last titan to make sure they never touched you again, he'd give you his blood to replace what you'd lost, he'd burn down the world to keep you warm.

Confessions that had never passed his lips before, spilling into the space between you, overflowing helplessly in a whisper you couldn't hear. "I love you. Did you know that? Could you tell?" He choked on it. "I fucking love you. I didn't want to, but I do, and I need you to come back, so I can tell you to your goddamn face."

He couldn't stop touching you, kneeling at your side, his legs long gone numb. He brushed the stringy hair from your forehead, warmed your hands in his, smoothed the blanket back over your wounds. When there was nothing left to do, he did it all over again, repeating the words until they hung in the air and piled over your body, still breathing, only just.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Please.

#esperanza requests #esperanza answers #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi angst #aot angst #hurt/no comfort #injured reader #heavy angst #aot levi #aot oneshots #traumatized levi #captain levi

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neeeooon · 17 hours ago

Note

How would Blue Lock guys react to their S/O having a stalker? And how would they "deal" with it? I want my protective boys

MY FIRST REQUEST TYSMMMM idk which guys so i used the wheel lol i hope you enjoy!! lmk if you want a part 2 for anyone i missed 🫶🤍

when you have a stalker ;

bf blue lock x gn!reader. some sections may be unsettling (still sfw)!

itoshi rin

-> rin has never been a fan of pda. he loves it when you play with his fingers and hold his hands when you’re together, but never in public. he never felt the need to be "protective" until recently

-> the two of you were at the beach when you suddenly noticed someone following you. usually, you wouldn't pay it much mind, but something about this guy irked you

-> you pulled gently on rin's arm to get his attention and subtly nodded your head in the guy's direction. "he's been following us since the shop. it's really freaking me out..." you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, but rin didn't blow you off or belittle you

-> to your surprise, rin shot the man a glare while tossing a lazy arm around your shoulder. you'd been expecting simple words of comfort, not pda

-> you tried not to enjoy the feeling of your boyfriend's arm around you since you could tell he wasn't comfortable. still, the fact that he was willing to do this for you made you smile at him lovingly

-> "is he gone?" rin asked after a minute, but kept you in his grasp even after you said yes. you smiled to yourself when he let you snuggle into his side without complaint

bachira meguru

-> he noticed something was off before you did, which he found slightly concerning

-> you'd been so distracted with work and school that you never realized the man constantly hanging out in your peripheral until bachira's grip tightened on your hand one day

-> "that's the same guy from the park, right?" you looked back at bachira's observation and frowned. "weird... he looks oddly familiar. i think i've seen him before."

-> that freaked him out (thankfully), and bachira made sure to stay close to you and go out of his way to make sure you weren't doing anything alone while you were in public

-> "aren't you being a bit overprotective?" "nope! you have a weirdo stalker, y/n. i'm gonna protect you!" "stalker? like raichi?" bachira just sighed.

-> he never had to physically intervene since the man never got too close, but his lingering presence was starting to weigh on you. finally, bachira had enough and gently pinched your cheek before approaching the man

-> you don't know what was said, but the man stumbled out of his seat and darted off after a few seconds of listening to bachira. "what did you say?" you asked when he returned. bachira feigned a look of innocence and shrugged. "funny. i can't remember!" but whatever he said worked, because you never saw the guy again

kunigami rensuke

-> you were paying for some skittles for your movie date with kunigami when a man at the register beside you quickly handed his card to your cashier. you blinked at the odd interaction and looked up to see him grinning at you rather awkwardly

-> “sorry, i should have asked if it was okay before just paying for you like that…” he seemed genuine enough, so you shook your hands out and grabbed your skittles. “no, that’s okay! thank you so much. you really didn’t have to, though!”

-> he introduced himself to you and started telling you a bit about himself. since he bought your skittles, you felt bad for ditching him, but your boyfriend was waiting on you and you could practically feel his gaze on your back

-> “hah, that’s so cool! look, i’m really sorry, but—“ “oh, no worries! i'll see you again, y/n." he was still smiling, but yours suddenly dropped. you never gave him your name

-> you immediately took a step back, and it was clear by the sudden shift in his expression that you had made a mistake

-> he threw a hand securely over your mouth and began pulling you to the exit, but before he could take you far, you heard your boyfriend yelling your name

-> the guy freaked out and dropped you, but security went after him as kunigami fell to your side. "what the hell?! i was.. are you hurt?"

-> you were a bit shaken up and had a little scratch on your cheek, but you were fine. you had to drag kunigami away with you when he saw the cut on your face and made him promise to drop it for your sake

karasu tabito

-> you'd been getting cryptic messages for weeks to the point where karasu was at your back every time your phone dinged. you'd tried to go to the police about it, but they said no actual harm had been done, so there was nothing they could do

-> you were out shopping with karasu when he stepped away to return something. as you were sifting through shirts, this random guy approached you and started talking as if you were friends

-> you awkwardly smiled to be polite, internally panicking when you realized the way he spoke reminded you of the creepy texts you were getting

-> when he asked if you wanted to leave with him, you stepped away and told him that your boyfriend was "right over there." you could tell that the guy was getting frustrated and even had the nerve to place a hand on your shoulder before he was suddenly pulled away

-> you couldn’t hear what was exchanged, but you saw how tense karasu’s shoulders were and how quickly the guy scampered off

-> "was that him?" he asked before taking your face in his hands and checking you for any damage. "are you okay?"

-> you nodded and forced yourself to stop shaking. "i think so. i'm okay, i just want to leave." you slowly pulled your phone from your bag, which had been recording the entire incident. "think this counts as enough evidence?"

-> he kept an arm securely around your waist and didn't let go until you were back in the safety of your home with your restraining order in hand

itoshi sae

-> he can ignore many things, but anything surrounding you or your well-being? absolutely not

-> he was in spain for work when you told him about the creepy feelings you were getting at your job. like someone was watching you during the last hour or so of your shift

-> since he couldn't be there with you for another few days, sae tried to think logically and keep you calm. meanwhile, he was texting your boss to make sure someone would walk you to your car every night

-> his flight home was originally scheduled for a saturday, but sae had this sinking feeling in his gut and was able to catch an earlier flight. the first thing he did when he landed was go straight to your workplace to see you

-> he hastily pulled into a parking spot when you didn't answer his call and asked your co-worker where you were. he found you out back, cornered by a large, creepy man. "i said no! i have a boyfriend, go away!"

-> sae stepped forward and grabbed the guy by the hair to pull his face out of your personal space. "the fuck? who are you?!" "the boyfriend." sae nodded his head to you, and you kicked the man as hard as you could between the legs

-> you immediately stepped over him and into your boyfriend's open arms. "you're home early!" "i had a bad feeling." though you were able to protect yourself, you were eternally grateful that sae was there by your side

shidou ryusei

-> he’s too confident to get jealous, but with that said, he can be a tad overly protective of you

-> shidou's with you all the time. always touching you, whispering things in your ear, playing with your hair, basically doing everything in his power to be near you when you're together

-> if anything, he made your stalker work extra hard to get you alone since he had to orchestrate a grand scheme just to get shidou away from you, even if it was only for a minute

-> it worked, though. you were enjoying a day at the mall together when you asked your boyfriend to hold your bag so you could run to the restroom. while he had his back turned, as if daring anyone to try and steal your bag from him, your stalker followed you

-> you nearly pissed yourself when someone grabbed you by the arm and tried to shove you into an 'employees only' closet. the guy got one good tug on your shirt sleeve before he was shoved off

-> you were reminded of how protective your boyfriend is when he straddled the guy and punched him until his knuckles bleed. you didn't stop him

-> when shidou was done "defending your honor" he wiped his hand on his pants before fixing your shirt and nudging your cheek with his finger. "you alright there, darling?" you nodded and hugged his arm. "i am now."

#requested!#merged this with the jealous post (i like this one more 🤭)#sorry if these are too long i got carried away lol #itoshi rin #bachira meguru #kunigami rensuke #karasu tabito #itoshi sae #shidou ryusei #bllk shidou #bllk bachira #bllk x reader #bllk rin #bllk sae #bllk kunigami #bllk karasu

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gothamite-rambler · 14 hours ago

Text

Batman has to constantly remind them he's not going down with the sinking ship when it's not his fault

Superman: Yeah, so we're turning ourselves into the government. Do you want to meet us there, or should we meet with you?

Batman: …

Wonder Woman: Batman, we're on a time crunch. Just give us your answer.

Batman (while driving, hesitating): First, I'm fine, thank you. How are you? Second, my son, who is in the car with me, is also fine… thankfully. Third, are you on crack?

Superman: I… We as a team voted that it's best if we turn ourselves into the government.

Batman (flatly): That's a decision you made. You guys have fun with it. Can I go now?

Wonder Woman: You’re part of the team! You have to turn yourself in!

Batman: Says who?

Wonder Woman: We decided as a team!

Batman: Yes, good for you. Why am I being dragged into this?

Wonder Woman and Superman: YOU ARE PART OF THIS TEAM!

Damian (in the background): Father, can we get McFlurrys later?

Batman (to Damian): Why do people eat those? They taste disgusting.

Damian: You have to get the one with the Oreos.

Superman: We’re still on the call!

Batman (annoyed): Right, not going in. Bye.

Wonder Woman: Don’t end the call! You have to hear us out.

Batman: I should just hang up, but I’m bored and need something entertaining to listen to. Proceed.

Flash (speaking first): Take one for the team, Bruce.

Batman: Okay, first, when I'm on a call with any of you, call me by my hero name. Commissioner Gordon can get away with that, but I’m not on that level with most of you. Second, I’m not on this team if you want me to do this ridiculousness. Third, seriously, are you on crack?

Green Arrow (in the background): Thank you for not saying heroin.

Damian (in the background): Father, why do they think you’re dumb?

Batman: Because they’re not very smart.

Green Arrow (expecting this): It’s amazing how badly this is going. I told you guys he’d say no, but nobody listens to me.

Batman: This is one of the rare times I agree with Arrow. I didn't sign up for a team where we all turn ourselves in for something I didn’t do.

Superman: It’s a team decision.

Batman: I don’t care.

Superman: But it’s for solidarity.

Batman: That I don’t care about.

Superman: Again, we’re a hero team. We’ve saved the world together; can’t you do this one little thing?

Green Lantern (Hal): And his response is…

Batman: Fighting villains, I enjoy. I wouldn’t be on a sports team, a firefighter team, or a doctor team with you if you're going to be this dense, and I sure as hell won't be on this team if you want me to do something this stupid. Is the brain cell you share gone for the day?

Superman: Okay, well… Kara is going with us.

Batman: And I've lost a little respect for her.

Supergirl: Hey! Wait, you had respect for me?

Batman: Did you contact any of my adult kids? Nightwing? Red Robin? I know Red Hood would just laugh before hanging up.

Superman: We haven't called them yet… but I bet they'd say yes!

Batman: No, they wouldn’t. I know that because they just texted my youngest son, who’s with me, and their messages say, “Not a chance in hell.” I didn’t even have to say anything. I raised them well.

Superman: Can’t you put aside your ego and just do this for us?

Batman: Who’s going to pick up my son from school? Go to my daughter's recital? Attend my other son’s group therapy session? Talk to my future fiancée about where I’ll be? Just curious, which one of you will handle that?

Batman waited for a few seconds, and none of the members responded.

Batman: Right. As stated, I'm not going, and if you call me again with this stupid request, I'm cutting the power to the building for a month. I will let that building decay to prove a point.

Damian: You tell 'em, Father!

Batman ended the video call without another word.

Wonder Woman: He’s getting calmer with his reactions.

Green Arrow: Yeah… Guys, maybe we don’t turn ourselves in this time. Maybe we… do something else? Anything else, because he has a point. I'm not sinking in the Titanic when there's a lifeboat.

Aquaman: Good Titanic metaphor.

Green Arrow: Thanks, man.

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cherryblossompink303 · 3 days ago

Text

Patience: ~Big brother is a prince!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: The ouran host club get an unexpected visitor ➼ what to expect: "you need him as much as he needs you" ➼ warnings: None ➼ Part ten | Part eleven

"I am scared to think of the jokes the twins are going to make today" You raise an eyebrow at the sight of the host clubs attire for the day. Hikaru gasps "We are gentlemen y/n, we would never, you are the one with a dirty mind" You roll your eyes, laughing as you sit down at your usual table, pulling out your notebook.

"Sure" you roll your eyes through a laugh. "Just you wait y/n we will convince the boss that you should start wearing the costumes aswell" the door creaks open strangely early for the time of day "Oh. what an unnaturally young guest" Tamaki notes, low and behold stood in the doorway it a little girl that couldn't be older than five years old. "Well, glad you're here, my little lost kitty cat" he extends his hand to the little girl.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Big brother is a prince!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Little kitty-cat, why have you come to see us today?" taaki asks, leaning down to make eye contact with the girl, who raises her hand to point at the club "It's a reverse harem!"

you nearly spit out your tea from over at the table at what the girl said, convinced tha you must have heard wrong. The hosts freeze up for the same reason "That can't be right. I must've heard wrong. Maybe there's still some water in my ear from when i went swimming" Tamaki bashes his head.You want to point out that he went swimming days ago but you also want to believe that you both heard wrong.

"Water in the ear that's gotta be it"

"I'm sure we just heard her wrong, there's no way this cute little girl said the words 'reverse harem' something's going on with our ears"

"There's debauchery here!" the girl exclaims again,at this point there was no denying that you had heard her right. "Yay! There's debauchery here, isn't there?"

"You're the glasses character" she points to Kyoya

"You're the boy-lolita, and the stoic type" she points to Honey and Mori.

"Twincest"

"The sex appeal" she points to you, a horrified look taking over your face. "I mean I'll take it but oh my god"

"And the bookworm!"

"hmm" she turns to tamaki who stumbles in fear, the girls eyes widen at the sight of him "Big brother?"

"My brother’s blond- you must be him!” Then, much to his surprise, she throws herself into Tamaki’s arms, hanging from his neck and kicking her feet.

“You never told us about this.”

“Since when do you have a little sister?” The twins accuse.

“I don’t- I’m definitely an only child- at least as far as I know…” Tamaki fears, holding the squirming little girl so that she doesn’t fall. "I must admit you two do look similar" You point out.

“I want to know if ‘glasses character’ is superior to 'big brother.’” Kyoya wonders, clearly still slightly tense between the two of them after what had happened at your apartment.

“Does that matter? I can’t believe she called me a bookworm.” Haruhi stews, thoroughly unhappy with her assigned character.

"You study all the time Haruhi, I got sex appeal, from a child. I'm horrified" you stare at the scene before you with concern. "They're not wrong though" the twins comment, you laugh.

"Excuse me. You want to tell me your name, little one?" Tamaki asks, slightly frazzled from the interaction. "Kirimi!"

"Kirimi?" Haruhi questions, wondering who would name their child afer salmon. "Kirmi-chan, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. I'm really sorry but I don't have a younger sister"

Tears begin to well up in Kirmi's eyes "Are you sure? You're blond just like me" it is at that moment that you know that Tamaki isn't going to be able to resist "Well, that is true..."

He picks her up "i give in! As of this moment, I'm your new big brother! You're so cute!" he spins her around.

"I know you get carried away by emotion , but don't you think it's irresponsible to make such empty promises?" Haruhi points out, watching him spin around Kirimi.

"Don't listen to that mean Haruhi. I'm not irresponsible. Come home with me and I'll look after you" you sigh as you watch Tamaki definitely being irresponsible. "What do you think we should do?" You turn to Kyoya.

"We should probably try to find out if she actually has a brother at this school"

"Kirimi"

The black magic club door appears once again in the music room yet this time the person who steps out in a way resembles Tamaki, with long blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Hey, uh, who they hell are you?"

"He looks like a foreigner!"

"What's up with that? How come the door looks different all of a sudden"

"Oh Kirimi" the boy steps out from the door way "Master, you forgot your cloak" a maid and butler steps out from behind him wrapping a dark cloak around the boy, which is the point that everyone realises who it actually is. "Nekozawa-senpai?" they all question in tandem.

"Master Umehito is terribly vunerable to any kind of bright light for that reason, if he doesn'tshroud himself in black, he will fall victim to the brightness of the outside world, and will undoubtedly collapse and just to be comfortable, he even has to cover his beautiful blond hair with a dark wig " The maid explains.

"On the other hand his sister, mistress Kirimi, is frightened of dark, dimly lit places" The butler chimes in.

"So this little girl is Nekozawa-senpai's younger sister?" Haruhi asks.

"You are quite insightful. Yes, that will be correct sir."

Tamaki puts Kirmi down, leaving her to stare in confusion at her brother. "Kirimi, so this is where you've been hiding." he approaches her in his typical way which certainly is nightmare fuel to a child.

"Big brother save me from the monster!" Kirimi launches herself back into Tamaki's arms.

"Please don't be scared, I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is Belzenef, the nekozawa family had worshipped cats for generations"

"You know, I get the feeling she's not scared of the puppet call me crazy, but I think it's you" Haruhi points out, Kyoya nodding behind her. "It's probably your clothes, we'll help you change, 'kay?" The twins slide in.

"Oh! Don't do that! It's far too bright! I may die!" Nekozawa-senpai cries as the twins pull at his cloak.

"I know! Why don't we just darken the room!" Honey goes to draw closed the curtains of the music room, Krimi bursts out crying "Don't! I'm afraid of the dark!"

"Don't worry little one!"

"Either way, someone's unhappy" Kyoya points out.

"It's a tragedy that these two siblings are such polar opposites. As a result, they have come to be known as the Nekozawa family's Romeo and Juliet"

"But Romeo and Juliet weren't brother and sister. I think their situation was a little different" Haruhi points out.

"Oh I'm well aware of that, to be honest it's something I just came up with on the fly. Pretty impressive huh? I thought it might make the story more dramatic"

"Oh I see"

"We were sent by the master's family to get our beloved mistress Kirimi back home safely"

"Is the rest of the family..." "As out of touch as you three are?"

"How dare you say such a terrible thing! The Nekozawas are a distinguished family! They're descendants of the Tokarev dynasty of russia!"

The host club's heads tilted to the side at the name "Tokarev, huh?" Kyoya questions. "Wait, you mean Romanov, right?"

"There's a legend that says once every few hundred years, a Nekozawa child is born. A child who is destined to be possessed by that darkness, exactly like our master Umehito" there is something about the maid that was starting to remind you of renge with her flare for the dramatic.

"That legend may or may not be true"

"What do you mean it may or may not be true?"

"Is it or isn't it?"

"Mistress Kirmi fell in love with the handsome fairytale prince of an odler brother she had seen in portraits. However, as a result of his condition, the master is unable to go near his sister without being shrouded in black. Once she learned that her older brother was enrolled in a high school here, she decided to go looking for him. That's what brought her to your host club. We've tried to keep her comfort by reading her bed time stories about princely characters like her brother, but we ran out of stories so we've started reading her shoujo manga that had princely characters in them and i'm afraid she's become completely addicted"

"Shoujo manga?" Haruhi questions "Oh...that's not..." you cringe at the idea of shoujo manga being read to sucha small child. "Is there really debauchery in shoujo manga?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to haruhi" you shake your head. "But Sashimi-chan is so young"

"Not Sashimi" "It's Kirimi"

"So Kirimi-chan doesn't know that you're her real older brother Nekozawa-senpai?"

"Yes, we've talked to her, but she refuses to believe us"

"That's so sad, well no wonder Neko-chan is so upset"

"It's painful, that's why every night I offer prayers, in hopes that one day, Kirimi will come to embrace the darkness"

"I think you've got it backwards buddy"

"You should try to get accustomed to the light" "What are you trying to do to your sister?"

The butler steps forward "Come along mistress kirimi"

"It's time to go home"

Kirimi bursts out whailing "I'm not going with you! I don't wanna go home! I wanna stay with my big brother!"

"Nekozawa-senpai?"

"Don't worry about me Suoh, all I want is for my sister to be happy. Make sure she gets the love she deserves" Nekozawa runs away in clear distress.

"But wait a minute! Senpai!" Nekozawa is long gone.

"Sibling relations are a source of problems in any family" Kyoya pushes his glasses up, which you know that means he isn't entirely just talking about Nekozawa-senpai and Kirimi.

"I must admit though, that was a noble act, giving up being apart of kirimi's life so that she can be happy, even if leaving her with Tamaki is certainly not the best option" You think aloud.

"Even so, I'm kinda jealous, I grew up an only child, so I can't really relate. But I can't imagine how tough it must be to have a sibling that's so different from you that you can't even spend time together"

Tamaki places Kirimi down "Is something wrong? Tell me, big brother"

"I'm sorry Kirimi-chan, but I'm not the big brother you've been looking for, don't worry, he's still out there. Believe it or not you have a big brother that's even more handsome than I am, and I promise you he's a real prince"

"Oh no" you mutter, for a second you thought that Tamaki may have been doing the right thing but he's ended up going in the complete opposite direction.

"Once she stepped foot in this room, Kirimi-chan became a guest of the host club and it's our job to make all our guests happy! It's an absolute tragedy to see a brother and sister at odds this way. We have to do something to help them! Starting now, 'operation: change Nekozawa-senpai into the princely character of Kirimi-chan's dreams' is underway!"

"Are you serious?"

"But sir"

"You want to change Umehito from a prince of darkness to a prince of light? I don't know if that's even possible"

"Senpai, quit getting carried away by your emotions! Don't make promises you can't keep"

Tamaki smirks "Oh, ye of little faith. Have you forgotten we have an expert on our side?"

"Oh no" you already know where this is going even before you hear the ghastly shrieks of laughter and the churning of a motor as Renge arises out of the floor.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"And as winefried rose from the well she vowed that she would never go near him again...Kirimi can we take a break?" you figured that baby-sitting kirimi would be better than witnessing whatever Renge has in store for Nekozawa-senpai, however you figured that reading her stories you had from back at home may be more age appropriate than reading her shoujo manga.

"No! I haven't heard these stories before I want to know!" She jumps up and down on the sofa next to you, shaking your arm as she does so. "Okay one more"

"yay!" Kirimi throws herself backwards to lie back on the couch, head resting on your leg. "There was once a princess called Dwynwen..."

It is about halfway through that you realise that Kirimi has fallen asleep on top of you. "I thought it was strangely quiet" Kyoya hums from the doorway, drawing your attention "I think she has been running around so much at the dragon stories she's worn out"

"I was unaware you owned so many fairytale books" He enters the room, approaching the two of you "There are very few of these ones in print, I brought them with me to make sure they don't get thrown out"

Kyoya picks one up "I see" he trails off, attempting to read the language on the cover despite the fact that you're pretty sure that he does not know it. "How is Renge's 'masterclass' going?"

"interestingly...I must admit she certainly runs a tight regime" you laugh "Sounds about right" you pull a blanket over Kirmi after she stirs in your lap. "Do you think it will work?"

"Possibly, I know that Renge certainly does not like to take no for an answer"

"And how are things with..."

He raises an eyebrow "with?" your head tilts to the side, knowing that he is playing dumb. "You know what I am referring to"

"Tamaki and I have yet to have a chance to speak" he looks off into the distance, not wanting to make eye contact with you. "You have had ample time, you are avoiding the topic"

"And what if I am?" he finally turns back to look at you "You shouldn't, you need him as much as he needs you"

"He was incredibly careless, I cannot forgive that"

"Kyoya." your voice is stern, pulling his attention. "Do you think that Tamaki messed up my apartment maliciously?"

"Well- No- Of course I don't- he wouldn't"

"He wasn't thinking, I will admit that because he never does, why was that any different to today when he decided to get the hopes up of a five year old that he will somehow change Nekozawa-senpai into something he is not?"

"It...It isn't different and it is incredibly different at the same time"

"How?"

Kyoya pauses, looking back at you with the same look you had given him seconds ago "You know how it is different" you raise an eyebrow "I do?"

"You do. and if you do not then you are less astute then I thought you were which I incredibly doubt"

"Tell me anyway?" Kirimi stirs before Kyoya can give an answer, waking up once more, rubbing her eyes as she sits up. "Oh its the glasses guy again" you laugh.

"I'll talk to Tamaki if you want me to but no promises of anything beyond it"

All of a sudden you hear a whail from the science room down the hall, everyone's heads snapping to look at the door. "Maybe we should double check that Renge isn't going too overboard"

You move Kirmi to sit on the sofa properly "Wait here for a moment Kirimi I will be right back"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Dare I ask?" as you enter the science room you find Haruhi yelling tamaki who was standing next to a mannequin who appeared to be dressed like her. "It's better if you don't"

"Big brother?" Kirimi appears next to you in the doorway "This room is dark and scary" she starts to tear up. "Oh, Kirimi-chan, i asked you to wait for me in the other room"

"What's wrong little one? There, there, calm down" Tamaki runs over, picking kirmi up "You see? There's nothing to be afraid of" the two of them laugh as he spins her around.

"Senpai?" You turn around to find a dejected Nekozawa-senpai chanting to himself about being a princely big brother. "I'm not afraid of this flashlight! Self evil beam!"

Nekozawa-senpai flashes the torch in his face. "He did it!"

"Nekozawa-senpai's come a long way, he's able to shine a flashlight in his own face"

"Bravo, senpai, bravo"

"Good job, I'm impressed"

"You did it! Your little sister is going to be so thrilled"

"Look there Kirirmi-chan that gentleman is your real big brother." Tamaki points to Nekozawa.

"Kirimi" Nekozawa-senpai turns around, a horrifying look on his face due to the the underlighting. Kirimi screams at the sight, running away.

"So I guess shining the flashlight in his face" "Scared her and sent her running"

"Oh kirimi" Nekozawa-senpai bursts out crying. "I've had enough. Even if I continue your special training there's no guarantee that Kirimi will ever accept me I think she'd be better off if you acted as her brother in my stead, Suoh"

"But that's rediculous you're the big brother she's looking for. If you care about her, you'll do whatever it takes to win her over"

The twins finally pull back the curtains of the room "Hey, look Kirimi-chan hasn't made it out of the courtyard"

"There's something down there with her...oh it's just a cat" Nekozawa-Senpai gasps "Your family sure does love cats" "Even strays warm up to you guys"

"What did you say?" Nekozawa-senpai pushes the twins away to take a look "They're revered by our family, it's true, but Kirimi wouldn't participate in something like that. Something as occult as befriending a stray cat. Kirimi is afraid of animals and cats are the creatures she fears the most"

"Kirmi!" Nekozawa-senpai jumps through the window.

"Nekozawa-senpai!"

"But he's not wearing his black cloak!"

Nekozawa-senpai runs up to Kirimi, who jumps into his arms, now actually able to see him in daylight without the cloak.

"Now look at that, this is all thanks to my special training" you roll your eyes, although even you can admit that while her methods were questionable, Renge was more helpful than not this time.

"I think Nekozawa-senpai is ready to continue on his own now, one of us should probably sort out what we're going to do about this window" You look at the remains.

the rest of the host club hum in agreement "Kyoya, Tamaki? would you mind?" the two of them look at you hesitantly "S-sure" Tamaki stutters out in nervousness, whether that be at you or Kyoya it is unclear.

You smile "Great, we'll leave you to it" turning around as you go to leave you place a hand on Kyoya's shoulder "Talk to him, remember what I said, you need him" You whisper, leaving the room with the rest of the host club.

Maintaining relationships certainly was not Kyoya's strong point, that much was clear, but if Nekozawa-Senpai can overcome all that to reunite with his sister, maybe he can learn to change too, with time, and patience.

Next time on patience 'Honey's three bitter days!'

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